Teacher - Voyeur

“Don’t laugh at me,” she reprimanded, sinking up to her neck in the water.

“Me? I’d never laugh at you.”

She rolled her eyes and splashed me with water before sitting on the bench under the water. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, opening them on an exhale to stare out at the ocean. “This is beautiful.”

“It is,” I agreed, looking at her, my back to the ocean.

She blushed but cocked a brow and pursed her lips. “Way to be corny,” she deadpanned.

I shrugged and made my way to sit beside her. “I’m just telling the truth.”

She splashed me again, and I shifted to grip her waist, pulling her out to the middle of the infinity pool.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What? Don’t do what?” I asked innocently, jerking her like I would dunk her.

She squealed and clung tight to my shoulders, wrapping her legs around my waist. We both froze when my dick brushed against her bottom, and her heat pressed to my stomach.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking achingly unsure of herself.

“Me too.”

She cocked her head to the side, unsure what I was apologizing about, only getting a second to catch her breath before I dunked us both.

“Dammit, Daniel.” She brushed her hair out of her face and slapped my shoulder.

I pretended I would do it again and laughed at more of her high-pitch threats. Anything to keep my focus away from her soft breasts pressed to my chest. I didn’t want to scare her with how much I wanted her.

Removing temptation, I sat her back on the bench and went to sit beside her again. We sat in silence, watching the sun glint off the clear ocean, enjoying the peaceful moment.

I didn’t know what prompted me to ask, but the nightmare from this morning came back, and curiosity got the best of me. Maybe the progress we’d made on the mountain. Maybe the voice in the back of my head that kept pushing me to make it all better before it was too late. “Why don’t you talk at the charity event?”

She stiffened beside me, and the air around us changed. “Because I don’t need to. There are plenty of other women who have a story to tell.”

“So do you.”

“And I’ve talked to my therapist about it. I don’t need to tell everyone.”

“Like I said, maybe it’d be good to talk to like-minded people. To own what happened.”

Her hair whipped the side of my face with the force she turned to look at me. “I don’t want to own it,” she snapped.

I should have stopped there, but my stupid misplaced need to get my point across rose above rational thought. “I’m just saying, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe it would help.”

“How would telling everyone I was raped almost every day for four fucking months help? Hmm, Daniel?”

Her words landed like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. It’s one thing to know what happened without the details. You can just pin it down to a bad thing and never think too much on it. It can remain a blurred image if you don’t look at it too hard. It’s entirely different to have the details laid out to where you can’t do anything but acknowledge them. And that’s what I had to do. I had to acknowledge that Hanna had been raped. Not once or twice, but over and over, and for the first time since meeting her, I wasn’t able to hide my shock. I wasn’t able to gloss over and pretend nothing happened.

“I just thought it would show how strong you were,” I answered lamely.

For as weak as my words were, hers were just as strong—fueled by anger. “I wasn’t fucking strong, Daniel. I wanted to die every fucking day. I prayed for it—begged for it to be over, any way possible. Sofia was the one that wanted to survive—who never gave up. But fuck both of us because she died, and I didn’t.”

More truths bringing me to my knees. It seemed I got Hanna to open her box, but it wasn’t going the way I’d imagined. It didn’t feel like helping. Was I making it worse? Was this a mistake? Was this what I had done to Sabrina—made it worse? Panic pressed on my chest; the euphoria of the morning gone.

“Hanna,” I almost pleaded with her to hear me—to hear what I realized she couldn’t see in herself. “You are surviving. You’re here living your life even when it’s hard. Talking to others lets them know it’s possible. It gives you something to be proud of.”

She was beyond hearing me. She’d scooted back, her shoulders tight, and her jaw clenched. “What about you?” she practically sneered. “Have you let it out?”

Warnings went off in my head, and I squared my own shoulders. I didn’t like being cornered, and Hanna was doing her best to get out of the corner I’d put her in, by forcing me into my own. I’d opened myself to her to make her feel safe enough to open to me. I hadn’t done it to be psychoanalyzed. I didn’t need to talk about Sabrina. I didn’t want to.