Page 38 of Ruined Wolfsbane

I don’t even realize I’m struggling to go to Sebastian until Malachi’s hand tightens on my throat in warning. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “He can’t handle anyone touching his back. Stop struggling, baby girl. You’re going to injure yourself.”

I still at that, not wanting to do anything to hurt Sebastian. After a long minute, he turns back to face me, eyes haunted.

“What happened?” I breathe before thinking my rude question through. He probably doesn’t want to share. I know how much I hate people prying into my business. “Not that you have to tell me.”

“I want to.” Sincerity shines in Bastian’s eyes. “Xander and I went to a Catholic school for sixth through most of eighth grade. Our parents wanted us to get a break from Wolves Hollow, so they sent us to a school in the town over.”

He pauses, seeming to need a moment before continuing. “There was a priest there. He thought twins were unnatural and satanic. He decided Xander was the true twin, and I was the embodiment of an evil spirit. He was determined to get rid of the evil spirit by any means necessary.

“Father Simon told my parents I was a promising student. I just needed some help after class. Every school day, for three years, I spent my evenings with him. At first, he just cut me, hoping to bleed the evil out of me. When that didn’t work, he moved to whips, hoping the pain would drive the evil from this plane.”

After hearing his explanation, I don’t ask any stupid questions, like why he didn’t tell anyone or why no one noticed. I know better than anyone why someone would go to great lengths to hide abuse.

“What happened to him?” My heart breaks for the little boy Sebastian was and the man in front of me who has to bear the physical and mental scars of someone else’s issues.

“I killed him,” Xander growls from the door, daring me to judge him for protecting his brother. “Bastian was late for pickup one evening. My parents sent me to find him. I did find him, face down and unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Father Simon was standing over him with a bloody whip. I beat him to death with the same whip he’d almost killed my twin with.”

It’s clear Sebastian wasn’t the only one changed by the priest’s abuse, but Xander’s scars are all on the inside.

“Good,” I reply, satisfied Sebastian’s abuser got what was coming to him, even if it wasn’t nearly enough for what he did to Sebastian.

Xander’s eyebrows rise at my reply. He clearly expected me to protest the violence. Little does he know, I wish I could go back in time and kill Father Simon again. Slowly. Methodically. And extract every ounce of pain possible.

“I wanted to show you my scars, so you know that I understand what you’re going through,” Sebastian tells me earnestly.

CHAPTER 17

BRIAR

Iopen my mouth to protest that there’s anything going on with me. Then I snap it closed. Sebastian’s honesty doesn’t deserve lies in response. Closing my eyes, I know I have to show him—not because I think he expects it as payment for sharing his pain but because I need to show him that he’s not alone.

“I’ll show you,” I croak. “You need to let go of my arms for me to do that, Malachi.” I try to tilt my head back to see Malachi, but he tightens his hand on my throat, preventing my movement.

“Not a chance.” Malachi also grips my wrists tighter in response.

I roll my eyes at him. What does he think? That I’m just agreeing to participate in this fucked-up show-and-tell as a ploy?

Unfortunately for me, I’m not heartless enough to do something like that to Sebastian, especially not after the raw vulnerability he showed me. Sighing, I focus on Sebastian again. “You’ll have to unbutton my shirt and push up my tank, then.”

He showed me his scars, so it’s only fair I show him how Patrick’s marred my body, instead of just telling them what happened like Malachi originally demanded.

“You sure?” he asks, hesitant. “You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to,” I echo his earlier words.

He nods in acknowledgment before moving closer to me. Sebastian gently untucks my uniform shirt from my skirt before working the buttons undone. My shirt falls open, getting stuck at my shoulders.

Sebastian glances up at me again, making sure I’m still okay with him undressing me. Satisfied with what he sees, he slowly inches my white tank top up, not breaking eye contact. His warm fingers feather across my skin, sending zings of heat where we connect.

Once he tucks my tank above the swell of my chest, he looks back down at my bruised skin. Sebastian makes a pained noise at what he sees. “Pretty girl….” His hands hover over my abdomen, like he’s trying to find somewhere unmarked to touch me comfortingly. Not finding anywhere, he settles for brushing a strand of hair off my forehead. After swallowing, Sebastian asks roughly, “When did this happen?”

“Sunday night.”

“Fuck!” Malachi shouts, startling me. His voice is thick with self-loathing. “I shouldn’t have let you go home.”

“This isn’t on you, Malachi,” I tell him simply. It isn’t anyone else’s fault other than Patrick’s. My statement doesn’t seem to do anything to alleviate the tension thrumming through his frame.

“What’s under that?” Sebastian questions, pointing to the bloody gauze. I’ve already bled through the bandage I put on when I got to WHU. I’m not looking forward to restitching the wound later.

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