Tame Me (Broken Heroes 5)

“Roman?” I let his name roll off my tongue. He turns while standing in the doorway. I notice then how big he is. His entire body barely fits through the doorframe. I drag my eyes down to the blue quilt sprawled across my body. I want to ask him to stay here with me, but I chicken out at the last moment.

“May I take a shower?”

“Yeah…sure. Everything is in that bathroom.” He nods in the direction of the door on the other side of the room. “I don’t have any girl clothes here, so I’ll give you one of my shirts for now. I’ll talk to my brother about maybe having his girlfriend take you shopping for some female shit. We will get it worked out.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, wringing my hands together. A swarm of butterflies fills my belly. For whatever reason, I feel safe with this man, and because it makes no sense to me, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop—for something bad to happen.

He looks at me for a long moment before he walks out into the hall, leaving me alone in the bedroom. As soon as he is out of sight, my chest constricts. It feels like I can’t breathe, like someone is sitting on my chest.

I force myself from the bed and hiss at the contact of my bare feet against the cold floor. I grip the knob of the bathroom door and push it open. Reaching for the light switch, I flick it on. A soft illuminating light emits from the ceiling, and I tiptoe inside, taking in the entire room with a shocked expression.

I’ve never seen a bathroom so big in my entire life. There’s a huge shower covering the entire length of one wall, and a vanity with a marble countertop. Towels and washcloths are stored beneath the vanity, along with mini shampoos, conditioners, and body wash. I grab a towel and some of the soaps, placing them on the counter.

Peeling the dress from my body, I toss the silky fabric to the floor at my feet. When I lift my gaze to the mirror in front of me, I almost don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

I’ve lost so much weight, my bones are protruding in places and my skin is even paler than usual, making the dark rings that have formed under my eyes stand out more.

My gaze lingers on the mirror a little longer, and I catch a look at my backside. The marks from the beating my father gave me for refusing to marry Anthony are nearly healed, but the internal wounds remain. My hands start to shake, and tears fills my eyes as I think back to that night.

“All you had to do was fulfil your duty as a woman and marry him, Sophie. You knew we needed this money.” My father’s deep growl should scare me, but nothing scares me quiet like the belt in his hands. I should’ve known refusing to do as he asked would result in something like this, but I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t marry a man just for his money.

No matter if my parents wanted me to or not…which led me to this very moment. The sound of the belt snapping fills the air. I sink my nails into my palms, readying myself for the strike.

“You’re a disgrace to this family. Not only will you take this beating, you’ll now be sold off to another man to fulfill your duty. One who will take you as his mistress, just like the harlot you are.”

I try to get the images and feeling of the belt landing against my skin out of my mind. I can still feel the sting of the belt as it struck my skin, over and over again.

I shake my head, cold tears slipping down my cheeks. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of the pain I experienced that day, and I know that’s how they win—making sure I remember how broken they made me.

It wasn’t just the physical pain that made it so bad, but the emotional pain of my father being so unloving and cruel, realizing I’m nothing more than a dollar sign to him.

Though I expected him to hurt me, I never expected my mother to turn her back on me. That was what sent me over the edge—what truly shattered my already broken heart.

I was her daughter after all, and all she did was stand there, watching me suffer, the blood dripping down my back onto the floor. I would never forget how she idly stood by while pieces of my soul died. I wipe away the evidence of my treacherous tears from my face, and turn and walk over to the shower, twisting the knobs on.

I don’t even wait for the temperature to adjust before stepping into the spray and letting the still cold water run over my skin. My whole body shivers, but at least the shock draws me away from the memory.