Page 2 of A Tortured Temptress
I arrived to our flat, opening the door. I expect to be alone, but I see Moira sitting on the sofa. My classes at the University are going well, but today's were cancelled because the professor was sick, and they didn't get a substitute soon enough. I should have all my credits I need to graduate by next spring. Becoming a social worker has been my dream since one helped me learn to live again. She didn't know who I was, but she still helped me. I hang up my coat and drop my bag on the table deciding a salad sounds good. I miss Fiona living here and with all her fresh pastries. A croissant sandwich would be so nice right now. Thinking of Fiona reminds me of her husband's bodyguard, Shane. Ever since the day I first saw him, there has been something about him. I know he's a bad guy, that he could hurt me with just the flick of his wrist, but I can't stop thinking about him. There is always this little voice in my head that says he wouldn't care about my scars. He wouldn't care that I'm dead inside, maybe he'd help me. Bring me to life again. But there is always that voice that says don't trust men. They are all the same, they only want to hurt you.
"Hey you're home early?" Moira breaks through my thoughts and I turn back to look at her and move toward her instead of the kitchen. Watching her I see something is off, but she's been acting strange since Fiona got together with Aidan. It could be that Moira's family is in law enforcement and her best friend's husband is the head of the mafia.
"Yeah, my class was cancelled. What about you?" I know that she's in classes for criminal justice because she wants to be a police officer just like her father and brother. I'm the most careful around her because I know that if she mentioned me to her family and they checked up on me it would ruin everything. No one knows who I really am here or where I'm from. Declan taught me how to hide who I really am. How to answer questions without really answering them. He taught me to fight too. But he never taught me to trust, if anything he did the opposite. Fiona, Moira, and the other girls only get a part of me, and it makes me feel like I'm a fraud in our friendships.
Everyone thinks I'm just another American studying abroad. When Moira's silence hits me. I look over at her as a movement catches my eye and I start to raise my hands to defend myself when a fist comes flying at my face. I'm not able to react in time.
I jolt awake with a scream, cringing back, fearing the punch that's aimed at me. I'm no longer in our flat or even where Patrick was holding us and beating me. I'm in a darkly decorated room. The blinds pulled closed. My eyes are trying to adjust to the darkness as my mind goes back to that night all those years ago. A form moves across the room toward me, and I scream again and push my body into the headboard behind me covering my face.
"Mo chroi, it's me," the deep husky voice says, and I recognize it.
"Shane?" Relief hits me so hard I almost sag back down into the bed. He sits on the edge of the bed next to me. I watch his eyes move down my body and it's almost a caress. I look down and realize I'm completely naked. My bare breasts on display for him to see. Immediately my hands cross my chest covering my scars. No one is allowed to see those. "Where are my clothes?" I cry out, my voice cracking.
"You'll be more comfortable naked; you've fractured a couple ribs. Besides the doctor needed to check you over and your clothes were dirty." His voice is huskier then normal, he adds on the last part with a wave of his hand toward the corner where I notice a trash can.
"Please I need my shirt." I don't care about panties or pants. The scars are over my chest, and I don't want to have to explain them. It's then I realize he isn't saying anything. "Did you see me?" My breath hitches in my chest that he saw my shame and was sickened by how I look. I'm not sexy and won't ever be able to wear low cut tops because my cleavage is scarred up too. By what was left so long ago. The measures they had to use to save my life. A life that I've only lived half of since that night. That he'll realize I'm just a walking corpse. I'm not alive anymore.
He stands from the bed and moves across the room to a dresser. I watch as he opens a drawer and with his back turned to me, I pull the blankets up to cover my body more and attempt to relax. But I can't relax. If a doctor saw me and my scars, they can figure out what I went through and from there they could find out who I am. Everything could be ruined. I look around the room trying to find my cell phone. I need to make the call that will allow me to escape and hide again.
"What are you looking for my love?" He moves across the room. His muscles bunch and for the first time I realize he isn't as put together as he normally is. He's in jeans and a pullover sweater. Usually, Shane is in a suit all formal, but not currently. His short hair is mussed up as if he was putting his hands through it. I have an urge to reach up and smooth it out, but I can't. I can't go there.
"Where is my mobile?"
"It wasn't with you when we found you. You can use mine? All the girls know you are here though."
The panic starts because that is the only way I have to reach Declan without a computer. I need to call him so he can get me out of here. I don't know where I'll go next. I only came here because of a friend, well, she wasn't a friend until I met her at the hospital. "I need it. I have to have it." I feel the tears rolling down my face. My body trembles causing me to cry out from the pain.
"My love, I'll have someone go to your flat and see if it's there. But you need to calm down, so you don't hurt yourself." My body continues to tremble as if it's chilled.
"Don't call me that." I can never be anyone's love. I'll always be running, or I'll die. I can never subject anyone else to my fucked-up world. To the man that still wants to kill me.
He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out for me. I cringe back as reflex; he stops and holds up the shirt he was going to put on me.
"I'd never hurt you, Giselle. You know that right? Use my shirt, I had to cut your clothes off you so that Dr. McGowan could check you over."
I nod my head and reach for the shirt, but he doesn't let it go. I pull trying to take it from him, but he won't release it. He pulls me toward him, he's so much stronger than me. I lean toward him praying the blankets stay covering my scars.
"I saw everything. Every part of your sexy body," he confesses, and I drop my eyes, pulling the blanket up to under my chin needing to hide. Needing to cover the ugliness. "You are beautiful, Giselle." His voice is so gruff, and I look up at him in shock.
"My scars." I choke out the words.
"I have scars too. Let me cover you for now, but you should know I will be seeing you again bare. You are mine now."
I lean forward and let him put the shirt over my head. I slip my arms through the holes, and he leans forward. His lips brush my forehead so softly I barely feel it. A sob breaks through because I haven't been treated so tenderly in such a long time. With such affection it reminds me of my mother taking care of me when I was sick. Or worse when I came home and confessed what was happening to me. I know I'll never be treated like this again. This can never be more than what it is now. I lie back putting space between us and look up at him. He follows me down, a hand on each side of my shoulders bracing his weight. His beautiful blue eyes are focused on my lips. I lick them and he moves to take my lips. Right before his lips touch mine, my eyes close wanting and needing this contact. Just this one moment that I'll cherish until the day my body decides to finally die. Until a knock interrupts us.
He pulls away and it's as if a bucket of water was dumped on me. How could I let myself go there? How could I trust another man like that again? The last man that kissed me, killed me.
"Enter." His voice is harsh and gruff.
"Mr. O'Connor, I have those pain meds we talked about, and I wanted to check on the lass one more time," a voice says from the doorway. I lean around Shane, cringing when I feel the pull in my ribs.
"No meds," I say before I push away and roll to the other side of the bed. Carefully I hold the shirt down and stand from the bed. "I need to leave. I need my phone."
"You can't leave," Shane says as he stands. His blue eyes bore into me trying to read all my secrets, but I close my eyes like Declan taught me and when they open everything is shuttered.
"You'll be in a lot of pain. Don't you want the meds," the man I'm assuming is Dr. McGowan offers them again.
I can't hide the shiver at the thought of taking those meds again. Of slipping into the oblivion that is left from morphine and opioids. The doctors didn't realize I was addicted to them until it was too late. It was Mona, my case worker that figured it out and helped me kick the habit. But because of that I have strict rules. No pain meds. No matter what. Only one glass of alcohol and barely anything else. I can't and won't let myself go back there. If I want to make their sacrifice worth it, I have to attempt to not kill myself.
