Page 98 of Corrupting Ivy

Her smile faded, making me want to do or say something just to bring it back.

“Rules?”

“Just things to keep you safe. Nothing terrible.”

“Okay, spill.” She clutched the comforter closer to her chin.

“Don’t answer the door. Don’t go into my office unless I'm there. Always keep your phone on you. That’s it.” I looked out the vast window after watching her swallow hard. “It’s not to constrict you but to keep you safe. I’ll have your car delivered soon, and when you’re feeling better, you can go wherever you desire.”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice as quiet as a mouse as she glanced away from me.

Her vulnerability invoked a desire to wrap her in my arms and hold her close to me forever. “Because I care for you, Ivy. I want to protect you.”

Ivy looked down, then away. “But why me?”

That was a question I’d asked myself before. Why her? Why now, of all the times? “I think because I see an innocence in you I sometimes wish I had in myself.”

Ivy unwrapped herself from the blanket, exposing her bare, silky skin to my greedy gaze.

Her wrists had fresh pink tissue where the restraints had chafed the skin. But the twenty gashes that wrapped half-way around her arms from forearm to shoulders... Those were deep enough to necessitate the use of either liquid stitches or stitching to close. It was only a few days ago that Nurse Lacey could remove all of them, leaving only a glimpse of the full devastation that was there. Then, there were the wounds on her thighs and calves, bringing her total number of injuries on her body to fifty-four. He’d sliced her body fifty-four times, and she’d survived it all.

“Those were the most painful.”

I broke my gaze from her wounds to look up at her. “These?” I asked, pointing to her calves.

She nodded, then threw the cover back over her body.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” I said as I slipped from my chair and kneeled before her, then pulled off the blanket. “You’re beautiful.”

She hung her head as a tear slipped down her cheek.

I placed a finger under her chin and returned her gaze back to mine. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I was beautiful. Now, I’m damaged and tortured by memories from which I’ll never be able to recover. It was just what he wanted.”

I sighed. “You can either let your trauma condemn you to a lifetime of misery, or you can conquer it and have a life beyond your wildest dreams.” I tucked my hand around the back of her neck and caressed her pulse just beneath her skin. “Scars and memories fade with time.”

Ivy nodded slightly and sniffed.

I moved her hand towards a thin white scar on my shoulder. “Feel this?” She nodded as I rubbed her finger on the raised scar that made up the hour hand on my broken pocket watch tattoo. “I cracked a dish while washing them one night and Ma used the jagged edge on me. When I got older, I covered it up with the tattoo to remind myself of that little piece of advice I just gave you.”

“That’s clever,” she said, wiping away her tears with one hand while her fingertips lingered on my scar.

I grinned. “You can use this as a reminder or get one of your own. But it’ll never hurt again as much as it does right now.”

“You’re quite wise for your years, Randall.”

“I’ve lived a dozen lifetimes’ worth of pain.” I touched the scar on her palm, given to her by my mother in the same manner. “You and I are the same now. I’m just at a different phase of recovery.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as I studied every inch of her exposed body.

“Randall.”

“Hmm.”

She stayed silent for a moment, her lids fluttering as she thought. “Thank you.”

“Always, sweet girl.”

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