Fractured

by Sydney Landon

  I walk down the hallway toward his office and hear his voice. Good, he’s on the phone. I quickly make my way to the bedroom and straight into the bathroom. I wrap my hand in plastic to keep the cast on my wrist dry and turn the water on as hot as I can tolerate. I’ve stopped wearing most of the other bandages, as my cuts have healed enough to do without them. I quickly remove my clothes, turning to avoid seeing my reflection in the mirror, and take a fresh loofah from the bathroom cabinet. The rough texture gives me hope that eventually I’ll be able to scrub away the feel of him on my skin. My stomach churns at the very thought, and I quickly jump under the scalding water.

  Again and again, I add liquid soap to the loofah and scrub my body. I work the hardest on my stomach, breasts, and the area between my thighs. Those places never seem to be free of the filth I feel crawling back almost immediately. I have no idea how long I’ve been in the shower, but as I start to sway, weak from the hot water and exhaustion, I realize I’m sobbing almost hysterically. When I look down, I see blood on my hands and on the sponge. A scream rips from my throat as the door is thrown open and Lucian stands there looking terrified.

  “Lia!” he yells frantically. “What’s wrong?” He looks around the room, as if expecting to see someone else here with us. I’m still in a daze at the sight of the blood…the red against my hands is mesmerizing and it’s hard for me to look away. His voice has lowered considerably when he says, “Baby, fuck, what have you done to yourself?”

  I’m so confused by his question that I look to him in inquiry before following his eyes back to my body. I sway on my feet as I really see what he’s looking at. The loofah has dug deep, breaking the skin in what looks like more than one place. My stomach seems to have gotten the worst of it with me possibly breaking open some of the healing cuts there. My thighs and breasts both look bright red and are starting to throb. The most alarming thing is that I don’t remember rubbing hard enough to do that kind of damage, nor did I feel the pain I should have felt. I don’t want him to see me like this. He’s going to know now that I’m not as okay as I’ve been pretending to be. There is no way to explain away what I’ve done to myself. For some reason, all I can do is apologize. “I’m sorry, Luc. I’m sorry,” I repeat again and again as he looks just as broken as I feel.

  “Stop, baby,” he whispers shakily as he reaches one hand out to brace me and uses the other to turn the water off. The bathroom is filled with so much steam it’s hard to breathe. I drop the loofah from my hand, unable to bear the sight of my blood on it.

  “I just wanted to get clean,” I try to explain. “I don’t know why I can never get it off me.”

  He flinches at my words, looking like he’s taken a hit. Without commenting, he picks me up and lifts me from the shower. He manages to grab a towel from the closet and wrap it around me before walking into the bedroom. The air feels frigid after the heat of the bathroom making me shiver. With little regard for the expensive bedding, he lays me gently on the sheets before pulling the comforter over me. I want to protest because I know I’m not only getting water but blood, as well, all over the expensive linens. He drops a quick kiss on my forehead, looking just as shaky as I feel. “Hang tight, baby; I’m going to grab the first aid kit.” For some reason, I have the insane urge to laugh. Where would I possibly go right now? I’m a wreck in more ways than one. Thankfully, I’m able to control myself, because he would probably think me completely insane after what he just walked in on if I were to start laughing hysterically.

  He returns with a white box, setting it on the nightstand before sitting next to me. When he pulls the comforter back, I freeze, not wanting him to see the ugliness that has become so much a part of me, both inside and out. Some of what I’m feeling must show on my face because he stops. “I hate for you to see me this way,” I whisper as I feel the tears rising to choke me once again. When will they ever stop? I don’t understand my sudden descent into this kind of despair. My stepfather has abused and touched me before. Yes, it was worse this time, but still, why can’t I get past it enough to function? I have someone who cares about me; someone who I know would kill to protect me. I’m alive, I wasn’t raped, and I’m home with the man I love. Why can’t I crawl out of this horrible shell of self-pity and take my life back?

  Lucian drops the comforter back into place, moving to take my head between his hands. “Lia, you’re beautiful to me, no matter what. When I see the marks on your body, all I think of is how strong you are and how many battles you’ve fought in your life. Most people would have given in to their circumstances years ago, but you’ve persevered. I hurt when you hurt, baby, but I never, not for one moment, see anything but the woman who brings me to my knees with her courage.” His lips settle on mine in something more than a brief peck for the first time since my attack. He possesses my mouth in a way that leaves little question as to whether he still wants me. As our tongues tangle, I feel a flicker of life which I was afraid was lost forever. Somewhere deep inside, I was terrified he would never want me again as he had before. If this kiss is any indication, though, those fears are unfounded. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are heavily-lidded with desire and his breathing is rough.

  Words of love are on the tip of my tongue. I love this man so much it’s a physical ache in my soul, but I can’t bear to have him pull away from me today, so I leave the words hanging between us once again. It needs to continue to be enough right now that he cares for me. Doesn’t he show me that every day? Never breaking eye contact, I pull the cover from my body, exposing my injuries to him. I see the distress he’s unable to hide as he looks at what I’ve done to myself. As he takes an alcohol wipe and starts cleaning my new injuries, I say quietly, “I didn’t mean to do it, Luc. Since…I haven’t been able to wash it all away. I keep trying, but I still feel his hands on me.”

  Lucian inhales sharply, looking crushed at my admission. “Why haven’t you talked to me, baby? You’ve every right to feel what you’re feeling, but you keep saying you’re okay. I knew…with all of the showers, that something was going on. I’ve been standing outside the door until I hear you get out, but this time, I heard you crying. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Lia. I’m here. Let me help you deal with what you’re going through.”

  “I want to,” I admit huskily. “But…I’m afraid you won’t want me anymore if you see how weak I am right now. You might think I’m strong, but I’m scared of my own shadow. I’m afraid that I’ll never be me again and we’ll never be us.”

  His hands still as he gapes at me. “Oh, baby, I can’t believe the thought of me not wanting you would even enter your mind. I feel like a sick bastard because I want you so fucking much every time we’re together that it keeps me tied up in knots.” He takes my uninjured hand and puts it on his crotch. My eyes widen as I feel him hard and throbbing against my palm. With a rueful smile, he releases my hand. “Yeah, that’s how much I don’t want you. I know it’s fucked, but my cock wants you immediately when you’re near. As soon as you’re healed and ready, I’ll be inside you again where I belong.”

  Lucian’s words help to relax me a little as he continues to tend to my old and new wounds. I want nothing more than to believe nothing has changed in that area of our relationship. From the moment we met, the air has literally crackled with the desire we feel for each other. I was too inexperienced to even realize and understand a lot of it at first, but I knew that I’d never felt anything even close to what I felt when he was near. After we had had sex, the feelings only strengthened. When we weren’t together, I was in a constant state of slow burn for him. Even with my thoughts and emotions all over the place now, I still feel the hum of electricity between us.

  He has been so distracted and restless. I think we both desperately need to return to some semblance of our former routine, but I don’t know how. Thus far, I’ve avoided leaving the apartment. The few times Lucian has mentioned it, I’ve felt myself shutting down. I’ve begun to feel terribly guilty, though, over the last f
ew days. I’ve watched him seeming to struggle with something, and I have to believe it’s my situation and his inability to make things better overnight. Lucian is a man of action and unfortunately for both of us, there doesn’t seem to be a miracle cure for me mentally. Physically, my body is healing, and each day I see the evidence of my attack lessen. Well, at least it had been until my freak-out in the shower moments ago.

  Rose had asked me earlier when I planned to register for my last quarter of school. I need to check on the test scores of my final exams and meet with my financial counselor. Now, though, I can’t stand the thoughts of going back on campus at least until my stepfather is behind bars. Lucian seems to think that is imminent, but I don’t have his confidence. Of course, I never would have imagined my mother turning herself in, either. Lucian didn’t seem surprised at all, which is even more puzzling. Apparently, he has more faith in humankind than I do. When I feel my hand being shaken, I look up, realizing I’ve completely zoned out while he applied my new bandages. “Sorry, baby,” I murmur absently, noting as I always do his pleasure when I use that word. Although Lucian addresses me in that manner often, I feel shy about doing the same. Maybe some part of me has never been able to believe I’m entitled to use words such as those with a man like Lucian Quinn.

  “No worries,” he assures me as he sits back to study my face. “Better now?”

  I nod shyly, feeling the urge to drag the covers up over my head. I can’t help but think that he’s wondering when the woman from a few weeks prior will return. I only hope for my sake, as well as his, that it won’t be long. With that in mind, I find myself saying something I wish instantly that I could take back. “Would you…like to walk to Leo’s for dinner?” I feel even worse when Lucian lights up like a kid at Christmas. I may have underestimated how difficult it’s been for him to stay cooped up in the apartment. I want to panic as the words are hanging between us, but the look of relief on his face keeps me silent. If he needs this, I’ll do it no matter how hard it is for me.

  His voice is carefully blank, as if he doesn’t want to pressure me, when he asks, “Would you like to?”

  No, no, no! I’m screaming inside as I say, “Sure, I think it would be nice. Unless you’d rather not?” Shit, I hope my voice doesn’t sound hopeful at that question. I started this and now I need to see it through.

  “No, I’d love to. I believe getting out for a bit would do us both some good. Do you need help getting ready?” I think of the yoga pants I’ve been wearing daily and guess this is his way of assuming—or hoping—that I plan to leave my present wardrobe mainstay behind, at least for dinner.

  “No, I can manage.” He drops a light kiss on the top of my head and leaves the room with more spring in his step than I’ve seen lately. I wait until he’s completely out of view before pulling myself slowly from the bed. I ache from a combination of my injuries and my lack of recent activity. Lying around has caused my body and my mood both to be sluggish. Even though it scares the hell out of me, I need to get out of this apartment just as badly as Lucian apparently does.

  I step into the walk-in closet which now contains all of my clothing, thanks to Lucian sending Sam to pick it up, and look through the hangers until I find a maxi-dress that flows to my ankles. I add a scarf and black cardigan to hide the worst of my remaining bruises and slip my feet into a pair of black ballet flats. In the bathroom, I take the ponytail holder from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. I quickly brush it and add some lip-gloss. There is no use in adding further makeup with the ugly bandage on my nose. Lucian’s aunt has said I should be able to remove it soon. I have an appointment with Lucian’s personal physician next week.

  He walks into the bathroom, looking gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and a black button-down shirt. “Ready?” he asks before pulling me into his arms and holding me against his muscular chest. He has no idea how much I need what he is giving me right now. He has treated me more like his sister since we’ve been home until today. Feeling his arms around me for more than just a brief hug is Heaven. I know he has been afraid of hurting me, but I’ve missed this between us. He has taken to holding my hand at night when we go to sleep, and I wake almost every morning to find him already gone from the bed. I am starting to realize now that maybe he has just been trying to follow my lead. I’ve given him little reason to believe I want more from him, that I need more from him than ever before. While I’ve been trying to deal with the mess in my head, I’ve pushed him away. I know in my very bones that I couldn’t make it through all that has happened to me without him, and it’s time I tried to let him see that. I know I can’t bounce back to normal overnight, but he needs to know I need him.

  I draw back slightly and he automatically loosens his hold, thinking I’m pulling away. Instead, I go up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. His arms tighten, and he groans. The kiss is gentle and I pour all the love I feel for him into it. When our lips finally part, he lays his forehead against mine. “I’ve missed you,” I admit, trying to convey so much into so few words.

  He looks into my eyes as if he can see directly into my soul before saying, “I’m here, baby. I never left. I’m right here waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come back to me.”

  Then it happens. The words flow from my mouth and my heart before I can stop them. “Oh, Luc, I love you.” His eyes widen and I feel him catch his breath. Even as the words hover in the air between us, I don’t regret them. The need to tell him how I feel has been choking me. The thing that surprises me the most about the moment, though, is that he hasn’t pulled away. He is still looking at me, as if trying to gauge the truth behind my words. I wordlessly cup the side of his face in my hand, letting him know it’s okay that he can’t say the words back. When I began to pull away, thinking it will be easier for him if I do, he tightens his hold on me before moving his hands from my back and curving them around my neck, holding me immobile.

  “I want to give that to you, baby, I really do.” Looking tormented, he says raggedly, “I lose the people I love, though, and I…God, I can’t lose you, too.”

  “Luc,” I whisper brokenly as I choke back a sob. “You won’t lose me,” I try to reassure him. It’s obvious from the rigid set of his jaw and the shadows in his eyes that my attack has been harder on him than I imagined. Even though I was the one hurt physically, we both bear the scars of the last few weeks. I turn my head and kiss the side of his arm. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

  He shudders, seeming as emotionally invested in our conversation as I am. “Just give me time, Lia, and know that when I can say the words again, it will be you and only you who will hear them. I’m not going anywhere, either. I’m committed to you.” We kiss tenderly for a few moments before he finally releases my neck and takes my hand. My stomach growls loudly in the quiet room, making it impossible to miss. Lucian smirks at me, raising both of our hands to kiss my fingers. “Let’s find my girl some food,” he teases, looking so impossibly relaxed and handsome. I feel a twinge of desire inside which takes me by surprise. I was afraid I would never enjoy that simple pleasure again, but I should have known that no amount of ugliness could ever take away my body’s reaction to him. I didn’t truly start living until I met him, and my heart and body will always respond when he is near because he owns them both.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucian

  I walk down the familiar streets of my neighborhood feeling lighter than I have since before Lia’s attack. Just doing something so normal feels better than I could have imagined. Lia is tucked under my arm while I twirl a strand of her blonde hair around my finger. I could tell earlier when she suggested having dinner out tonight that she regretted it almost as soon as she spoke the words. She has shown no interest in leaving the apartment since we arrived home from the hospital. She’s spent the majority of her time either in the bed, or curled up on the couch pretending to watch television while she actually stares off into space.

  When I admitted as muc
h to my aunt, she again suggested counseling and possibly medication. It’s not that I’m opposed to either in principle, but I remember well that neither seemed to help Cassie through her erratic years of highs and lows.

  When I found her in the shower earlier with blood on her hands and stomach, I was hit with a crippling sense of déjà vu. Spots danced before my eyes and I was damn close to a panic attack at the very least and having a fucking heart attack at the worst. Thank Heaven I had been able to get myself together and take care of her. For just a split second, I’d thought she had cut her wrists or something equally as bad.

  I’d almost called my aunt then, feeling lost as to how to help the woman who had become my world. Losing her would shatter me, and this time, I don’t think I could put myself back together again.

  While I was quietly panicking and trying to keep my mind occupied with taking care of her, though, something happened which maybe we both had been needing. We talked to each other for the first time in days. She told me how she had been feeling since her attack, and I listened in shock as she gave voice to her fears that I no longer wanted her physically.

  I wanted to slump over in relief because I had been experiencing the same fear—that Lia no longer wanted what we had had before her stepfather got his vile hands on her. Our talk had continued before we left for dinner when Lia had admitted she loves me. A part of me wanted to run when the words left her mouth. But the other part had needed to hear them again, since the first time she said them in the hospital and I hadn’t been sure she even knew it because of the medication she was on. If I were honest with myself, my heart had soaked up her declaration like a flower seeing the sun for the first time in years. I was afraid, though, to give those three words back to her. I’m afraid to move forward and terrified of losing her if I don’t.