Page 24 of Sinful Scars

It’s naive of me to think that I could pretend like nothing ever happened. Perhaps because being pinned down to a bed and threatened with rape isn’t the worst thing to happen to me.

My therapist tells me not to diminish my feelings by comparing every bad experience to the fire that wiped out my family, but I can’t help it.

When you survive a trauma like that, it toughens you up fast. If I can survive that, then surely, I can survive anything.

By the time the sun comes up, I’m already out the door and walking across the city toward Lucia's place.

The air is bitterly cold, but the sun is shining, so I wrap myself in a long, tan coat with a chunky scarf, hoping that some vitamin D will help make me feel better.

I stop by our favorite coffee shop on the way to her townhouse and pick up two mocha lattes and a black coffee for Mikhail as well as some pastries. I figure it can’t hurt to sweeten up my cousin first with her favorite cherry danish before telling her I was kidnapped.

She’s going to be pissed as hell that I didn’t tell her the moment I got home, but I didn’t want her to worry. She’s been through enough over the past few years, and I hate to feel like a burden.

My pulse races as I knock on the front door.

I tried rehearsing exactly what I was going to say to her on the walk over here, but it all just sounds so ridiculous. Not just the kidnapping incident, but the fact that I have no idea who actually rescued me. It sounds like some bizarre fever dream, and I keep thinking at some point I’m going to wake up to realize thathewas never real.

I can’t help but feel disappointed at the thought.

I’m still trying to gather my thoughts when the front door opens, revealing a disheveled looking Lucia. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a pair of pink satin pajamas.

“Elle.” She squints at me as the sunlight floods her face. “It’s not even seven a.m.”

“I figured you’d be up. Can I come in? I brought coffee.” I hold up the bag with the pastries, and Lucia steps aside.

She takes a coffee from the tray as I walk past before closing the door behind me.

The house is eerily silent, and I glance around as she leads me into the family room where Mikhail is sitting on the enormous couch, fully dressed in a black shirt and pants and drinking an espresso. Even though I’ve known him for a few years now, I don’t find him any less intimidating with his muscular frame and countless tattoos.

“Where’s Vivi?” I eye the toys and books scattered around the floor.

“Still asleep. Little brat was up until three having a party in her crib.”

Mikhail scoffs. “Takes after her mother.”

I stifle a laugh, and Lucia rolls her eyes at her husband.

I take a seat on the couch, setting the coffees and pastries down on the table. “How’s everything with you, Mikhail?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Same as usual.” He’s never been much of a talker, which is why I think he suits my cousin so well. Lucia is as extroverted as they come, and from what I’ve gathered from Mikhail’s brothers, she’s done wonders at loosening him up.

It makes me curious to know what he was like before he met Lucia.

Lucia plops herself down between me and Mikhail, reaching for a danish. “So, what brings you over so early?”

“I, uh… I need to talk to you about something.” I pick up my coffee cup just so I have something in my hands to stop me from fidgeting.

“I can leave you girls to it.” Mikhail braces his tattooed hands on his thighs.

“Actually, you might want to hear this too.”

Mikhail frowns, and Lucia immediately stiffens.

“Elle, you’re freaking me out.” She takes my hand. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. But there’s something you should know.”

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