Page 154 of Depths of Destruction
"I said some things to him I shouldn't have," I blurt out.
Blaise grins. "He's a big boy. He can handle it."
It still doesn't make it right.
Blaise hesitates, then says, "I'm not perfect. I won't lie to you. I struggle more than I would like to admit. But there's a woman here who helped me learn to own it instead of it owning me. I think she might be able to help you, too."
"Like a therapist?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to see her?"
"No... I um..." He shifts in his seat. "My therapy sessions are over now."
"She can't help you anymore?"
He swallows hard and stares at the water. "Unfortunately, not." He turns to me. "But I think she can help you."
"Can I think about it?"
"Sure. There's no time limit."
"Thanks."
He rises. "I'm going to shower. You want another cup of coffee?"
"No, thanks. I'm good."
He pats my shoulder and goes inside.
I sit outside for quite a while, thinking about everything Blaise told me.
Own it, so it doesn't own you.
Things become clear. I go up to the bedroom and into the bathroom. I remove my clothes and begin pulling the bandages off my back. When I believe I've gotten all of them, I take a deep breath and pick up the mirror. I close my eyes, spin, and hold it in front of my face.
Slowly, I open my eyes and stare at my ripped flesh. There are two bandages over my spine I couldn't reach, but everything else is off.
My creamy, perfect-looking skin is now a scab-filled piece of battered meat. I wipe at the tears running down my face and step backward so I'm closer to my reflection.
"Baby, what are you doing?"
Andre is standing in the door, his eyes wide.
"Can you take off the ones I couldn't reach?"
He steps forward, kisses my forehead, then spins me. The pull of the last two bandages is ironically freeing. He quietly states, "The top one is the one I worry most about you getting an infection from."
The sore he's referring to is wide and the ugliest of them all. It's above where my bikini strap would sit and will be visible if I wear any kind of top with a more open back.
"No amount of lotion is going to prevent scars, is it?"
Andre blinks hard and takes a deep breath. He slowly shakes his head.
I force a smile. "Okay. Can you help me wash my sores?"
We get in the shower, and just as he's been doing the last few days, he diligently washes my back. When he's finished, I step back against his body and tug his arms around my waist.
