Page 13 of Breaker

When I look back at Dr. Morgan, he at least has the decency to look ashamed.

Rune gestures to the bed behind me. “Lie down.”

I turn, gaze landing on the bed. Horror floods my veins. I shake my head, light trembling starting in my hands. “No.”

He’s going to have me examined on my childhood bed. How many nights have I spent in this bed with Delly laughing, telling secrets? How many nights did she climb under the covers with me, promising to keep me safe from the nightmares that kept me awake at night? From the demons in my head?

I turn back around, facing Clyde, my socks catching on the thick shag carpeting. “Tell him no.”

He looks away.

Fucking coward.

I turn back to Rune. Why? I have no clue. He doesn’t give a fuck about my protests. Only if my body is fit to use again. God forbid I got an STD, or worse, pregnant. That would take far longer than an antibiotic to resolve before he could fuck me again.

“I’m fine,” I say, but my voice shakes. I take another step back. Rune grabs my arm so tight I wince.

“Lie down,” Rune says. “They had you for three fucking weeks. After they violated you in my fucking club.”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. I don’t need an exam. I’m fine.” I gesture to my dress, my body. “See? I’m not hurt.”

Clyde moves up next to me, and grips my hand, pulling me toward the bed. My sweater that I’ve been holding falls to the floor and he leans down to pick it up. He bends, pausing slightly, like he’s seeing it and me for the first time. As Clyde stands, he takes in my appearance. How tightly knit and warm the sweaterand how I’m still slightly plump in all the wrong places. That I’m not cowering or covered in bruises or scars.

I wonder if he can see all the things that Rune clearly can.

“You’re telling me you didn’t fuck the four men who held you?” Rune asks, keeping his eyes locked on my mouth. I don’t know what my face does, but I know it must give me away because he makes a sound in his throat and points to the bed again.

A violent shiver moves through my body as I step forward. I know if I don’t do as I’m told, they’ll make me. That’s what Rune does. Forces. Takes.

My legs tremble as I sit on the edge. I wait for him to turn and leave, but Rune doesn’t move.

My brows knit. I glance at Clyde, whose eyes fall to the floor.

“You need to remove your underwear,” Morgan says. “Then lie back.”

My eyes fly back up to Rune at my feet, then over to Clyde on the other side of my room, gaze stormy but looking over my shoulder instead of at me.

They’re not planning on leaving. They’re going to watch. Rune’s going to make sure that the exam is done.

My chin quivers. Dr. Morgan shoots me an apologetic smile as he pulls the small wooden stool from my vanity and pats the bed behind me. I lie back, clutching the cold, stiff comforter, turning my face away so Rune doesn’t see the tear slip past.

I feel myself splintering, fading away. Someone, I think Dr Morgan says something, and then tells me to bend my legs. My dress is lifted, then a blanket is draped over my knees. An icy hand touches my hip, and my underwear slips down my thighs. I clench my jaw, biting back a scream, the flood of tears building behind my eyes, threatening to break loose.

My legs shake as his chilly hand slides up my inner thigh and he gently eases my legs apart.

I’ve been violated so much, in so many ways throughout my life, that any touch that isn’t completely welcome feels like an invasion of my soul. And right now, feeling Rune’s penetrating gaze on me as Morgan examines my body, feels like the worst violation yet.

The cold plastic of the instrument and then the pinch of pain makes me gasp. My mind blanks.

“Did they fuck her?” Rune asks.

I feel Morgan stop moving and sense more than see him turn to Rune at his side. “That’s not something I can tell. But there are no signs of trauma, if that’s what you mean.”

Rune makes a sound in his throat. Something like disgust, or maybe he’s filing the information away for later. Dr. Morgan asks me several questions about my cycle, Rune interrupting every few minutes to ask some invasive question, and again if they touched me. he tells me he’s going to take a blood sample as well, and I don’t fight it. There’s no point. When he’s done collecting samples, Morgan pats my leg and tells me to relax.

“Are you sure?” Morgan asks.

I take in a breath, trying to refocus, stretching my legs out as I adjust my dress and the blanket over my thighs, doing my best to ignore the hollowness between my legs.

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