Page 74 of Shattered Lives

Like I need a sex therapist. I can’t even handle the possibility of a goodnight kiss.

But something Lila said nags at me.

Intimacy begins in the mind.

I sit alone, pondering that concept.

Sex and intimacy don’t necessarily go hand in hand. You can have sex with another person without ever being truly intimate. People do it all the time. Intimacy implies emotional closeness.

What happened to me, though it involved sexual acts, was about power and humiliation, control and pain. There was no intimacy whatsoever.

So if intimacy wasn’t part of what happened, why does it scare me? Why are sex and intimacy so entangled in my mind? And why does the thought of a simple goodnight kiss make my anxiety level skyrocket?

I drop my head. I’m so fucking tired. Tired in my heart. Tired in my soul.

Tired of crying.

Tired of being afraid.

Tired of being alone.

Tired of being too afraid to not be alone.

Tired of feeling too damaged to allow anyone in.

Tired of being damaged.

A heaviness falls over me, so heavy I can’t even cry. I was never the crying type until the kidnapping. I’d occasionally shed a few tears, but rarely over relationships. My tears were reserved for serious losses, like losing my or Mark’s parents or fellow soldiers. But ever since what happened, I’ve been a mess, and I loathe it.

My life is controlled by fear now, whereas before, I was… well, not quite fearless, but close. The Me from five years ago would be sorely disappointed in the Me I’ve become. I’m essentially the photo negative of the woman I used to be. My confidence, my hope, my trust, my strength, my happiness – they’re gone. They were destroyed in a cell deep in the desert, ripped away brutality by brutality.

The worst part is that even after death, those bastards still torment me. I may have been rescued from their cell four years ago, but I’m still a captive. My prison is just less visible now.

No matter what Mark or Lila or Tucker say, I’ve finally accepted it. The bastards won.

And I lost me.

MARK

Charlie comes downstairs just after Tucker leaves. I can tell by her posture something’s wrong. I noticed it when she came home, when I got the distinct impression she was avoiding me. I scrutinize her. Her eyes aren’t red, but there’s a definite sadness about her.

I’m already sitting in bed reading with the covers turned down when she silently pads into the room, dressed in her usual shorts and tee shirt. “You okay, Baby Girl?”

“I’m fine. I just have a headache.”

I pretend not to see through her lie. “Need an aspirin?”

She shakes her head. “I just want to go to sleep and forget today ever happened.”

Something happened on her date. She was in a decent mood when she left. I don’t push. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. Then I’ll decide whether or not to kick Blake’s ass.

“Lila called me while you were upstairs. She wants to go on an overnight girls’ trip tomorrow. Shopping and restaurants and stuff.”

Her mouth turns up in a faint smile. “You two have a great time.”

I smile wryly. “Not me, smartass. She tried your phone, but you must have been in the shower.”

“What will you do if I leave?”

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