Chapter 13 Lana
LANA
My fingers are cramping from gripping the bench so tightly. The leather is slick with sweat beneath my palms. I can feel heat radiating from my abused skin, each stripe he's laid across my bottom a reminder of his patience.
He's not going to stop. The realization hits me with stunning clarity as another strike lands, a line of fire across my skin.
He'll keep going until I break, just like they did at the facility. The only difference is the words he wants to hear.
"L-Lana," I gasp out, the name tearing from my throat. “Lana.”
A sob follows the word. I can’t hold it back.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by my ragged breathing. Tears stream down my face, hot against my cheeks as my body shakes.
My name—my real name—hangs in the air like something fragile and precious that might shatter if either of us moves too quickly.
"Good girl," Aiden says softly. "That's all I needed to hear."
His hand touches my back, gentle now, stroking along my spine. The tenderness after the pain makes me shudder, a memory tugging forward from the back of my mind.
"Lana," he says, testing the name. "That's a beautiful name."
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. I feel as though I’ve failed somehow, despite his words and gentle touch.
"Can you stand up for me, baby?"
I push myself up from the bench on trembling legs, my movements unsteady. The burning sensation across my bottom makes me wince with each shift of my weight. Aiden's hand remains on my back, steadying me as I find my balance.
"Look at me, Lana," he says, and hearing my name in his voice sends another shiver through me.
I lift my eyes to meet his, expecting to see satisfaction or cruelty there. Instead, there's something else. Relief, maybe. Or concern. The complexity of his expression confuses me more than harsh indifference would.
"I'm sorry I had to do that," he says, his thumb brushing across my cheek to catch a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "But you needed to remember who you are."
I don't know how to respond to that. The apology feels foreign, dangerous.
But Aiden's blue eyes hold something different, something that makes my chest tight.
"Who am I?" I whisper, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
His hand stills against my cheek. "You're Lana," he says simply. "You're a person, not a number. Not property."
The words should comfort me. Instead, though, they feel like lies, pretty words meant to manipulate me into compliance.
I've heard promises before—whispered assurances that turned to ash the moment I believed them.
"What do you want from me?" I ask, my voice barely audible.
Aiden's jaw tightens slightly. "I want you to remember who you were before they took that away from you."
I shake my head, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I don't know how to be her anymore."
The admission tears something open inside my chest. It's the truth I've been running from—that whatever they did to me worked. The girl named Lana feels like a stranger, someone I might have known once but can no longer reach.
"We'll figure it out together," Aiden says, his voice gentle but firm. "One step at a time."
I want to laugh at the absurdity of it.
We'll figure it out together.
The words feel like sandpaper against my raw nerves. Together implies partnership, equality.
Those things don’t exist.
Something flickers across his face—pain, maybe, though I can't imagine why my words would hurt him. He bought me. This is what he paid for.
"That's not—" He stops himself, running a hand through his dark hair. "Fuck. This is harder than I thought it would be."
I don't know what to make of his frustration. Is he disappointed in his purchase? Have I already failed him somehow?
"I'm sorry," I whisper automatically, the words as natural as breathing. "I'll do better. Whatever you want, I'll—"
"Stop." His voice cuts through my apology with sharp authority, and I freeze mid-sentence. "Don't apologize for telling me the truth."
The truth. I don't even know what that is anymore. Everything feels twisted, upside down. The pain across my bottom throbs with each heartbeat, but his gentle touch on my face creates a different kind of ache entirely—one I can't name or understand.
"I don't know what you want from me," I whisper, my voice breaking on the words.
Aiden's hand drops from my face, and I immediately miss the warmth of his touch. He steps back, creating distance between us that feels both safer and more terrifying.
"I want you to heal," he says finally, his blue eyes holding mine. "I want you to remember that you're human."
Human. The word sounds foreign. I've been 127 for so long that humanity feels like a luxury I can't afford. Human means having choices, having worth beyond my ability to please and obey. Human means having a voice that matters.
I don't remember how to be human.
"I don't understand," I admit, wrapping my arms around myself. The movement pulls at the welts on my bottom, and I wince.
Aiden sighs, and the sound makes me flinch. I've learned that sighs usually precede punishment. But instead of striking me again, he moves to a small cabinet I hadn't noticed before and pulls out a small jar.
"Turn around," he says, his voice gentler now.
I obey, though my legs still tremble beneath me. The cool air of the room raises goosebumps across my naked skin.
"This will help with the sting," he explains, unscrewing the jar. The scent of something herbal fills the air between us.
I tense as his fingers, now coated with cream, touch my burning skin. The initial contact makes me hiss, but then a cooling sensation spreads across the welts.
His touch is methodical, almost clinical, but there's a gentleness to it that makes my chest tighten with confusion. I grip the edge of the bench again, but this time it’s not from pain, but from something else entirely.
I haven’t felt the sensation of being cared for by another person for so long that the feeling is almost foreign. Something in me longs to lean into it, to let the gentle touches wash over me, to let myself relax under his touch.
Seeking this out was what got me into this situation in the first place, though.
So I do what I’ve learned to do best: fold into myself, placing a steel wall between myself and anyone else.