Beautifully Broken

But I can only avoid him for so long, his presence demanding my attention, and my gaze slowly creeps back to Damian.

Again. he reminds me of a grizzly bear. With the beard, I can’t make out much of his facial features. But his eyes… they’re sharp and cold as if they’ve been carved from an iceberg.

“You have fifteen minutes, Cara. I don’t want you on your feet for too long.” Damian leaves the door slightly ajar as he heads back into the room.

Honestly, I’m relieved. I think I might die if he closes that door. I couldn’t stand small spaces before I was taken. Now, they terrify me.

I take a slow breath, as deep as I can, before an ache seizes my chest, and then I exhale.

Just focus on one thing at a time.

Shrugging the jacket off, pain pierces through my left side, making it hard to breathe for a moment. I place my hand against the wall as I step into the shower, so I don’t topple over and then grab hold of the little rail.

When the warm water sprays over me, my lower back stings, where Henry kicked the shit out of me.

I turn my face up to the water and let it wash over me for a while. My cheek, jaw, and mouth start to throb as life returns to the wounds, and then the pain spreads down my body, relentless and raw.

It’s too hard.

Everything’s too hard.

With zero energy, my movements are sluggish. All my strength has been drained from me and replaced with this harrowing nightmare that fills every part of me with suffocating darkness.

I reach for the bar of soap. It’s hard and cracked, and I have to rub it under the water to soften it a bit. Then I keep my eyes on a cracked tile where the one corner is chipped away, and biting my tender bottom lip, I slip the bar of soap between my legs.

The moment the soap touches my skin, it stings like fire, so much that my legs start to quiver under my weight.

God.

I can’t.

Why didn’t I just die?

I can’t deal with this.

A sob breaks through my feeble barrier, and I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my soap-covered hand. One tear slips from my right eye and disappears into the water.

I try to take deep breaths, but it makes my chest feel like it’s going to split open any second.

One step at a time, Cara.

Don’t think about what happened. Just focus on this second… then the next.

As I fight for control over the devastating feelings, I keep my breaths shallow and stare at the cracked tile until I feel a little calmer.

I wash my left arm next, making sure to cover every inch. Even though I want to scrub my skin off, my movements remain ginger. The pain is a sickening reminder of what happened.

Once I’ve washed my whole body, I start the process again. Every bruise is pulsing with pain. But I don’t stop, my need to find some semblance of feeling clean again, forcing me to ignore the pain.

Using the soap, I do my best to wash my hair, and then I rinse the suds out.

When I’m done, I gingerly lean back against the tiles, totally exhausted and consumed by the unrelenting pain.

Letting out a sigh, I turn off the faucets. My legs tremble beneath my weight as I reach for a towel. I wrap the rough fabric around my aching body, and the instant I step out of the shower, I see Damian standing by the door.

My heart leaps into a turbulent battle to not let the terror drag me under.

I freeze and clutch at the towel as if it can protect me while watching Damian with an apprehensive gaze.

He points to the counter. “Clothes. Get dressed and come eat.”

He leaves again, and out of fear he might come back, I move as fast as I can. I endure the pain as I drag clean panties up my legs. I skip the bra and grab the cotton shirt. It’s brown and old, but I tug it on.

Next is the brown sweatpants, and I’m thankful they’re comfy and soft, especially between my legs.

For a moment, I hesitate, fear threatening to overwhelm me, but then I cautiously move closer to the door.

My heart begins to beat faster as I peek into the room, and when I see Damian sitting on the chair in the corner, I slowly inch out of the bathroom.

Panic grips my insides in a merciless fist, but then Damian’s gaze flits over me with zero interest, and it makes me feel a little safer.

“There’s a burger and fries on the bed. Eat it so you can take your antibiotics.”

I notice he changed the bedding while I was in the shower. I gingerly sit down, and picking up the paper bag, I take the burger from it.