Page 39 of Worth

He strikes first, and I am so shaken that I don’t even try to block him. I can tell before his knuckles meet my shoulder that he’s not holding back. Pain explodes from the point he hits.

Aiden’s face almost remains passive, the tiniest wince surfacing and then hiding behind a stern exterior. “Think about what you’ve been through. Use that. Use anger and frustration and fear to push you further. Focus everything so that it flows through your body and powers you.”

I’m scared. I know he sees it as we circle one another, but he doesn’t back down.

He doesn’t realize what he’s asking. Or maybe he does—he did just reveal to me that men have raped him before. But the idea of letting everything out, including things I’ve been hiding from myself for years now, it frightens me. Because I’ve already cracked a little bit. I stabbed a man to death with a fork, for fuck’s sake. What if letting out all of this is like letting out a monster from its cage?

What if I’m truly psychotic when I open that door?

What if I’m worse than Stephen?

“Trust me,” Aiden murmurs. We’re still circling, but neither of us is trying to strike. “It’s all right to be afraid. I’ll catch you when you fall, Kitten. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

It’s what convinces me to try. I’ve never had someone who would catch me. Maybe it makes me psychotic without ever letting anything out, but I trust Aiden.

“Think about that day, Kitten. Think about how you got to the auction.”

My breathing hitches and I strike out at the visions of the past: my mother’s casket; the greedy look in Stephen’s eyes; the confusing touches of Mordecai’s claiming. Aiden dodges it but nods his approval.

“Think about what you felt when they forced you into that car after you were sold. Think about what happened that night and the next day. And the next. And the next.”

I close my eyes for a moment, pushing back against the bile in my throat. My eyes flash open and I jab at him, alternating hands, getting him on the move. Damien’s scent is in my nose, making me nauseous as the memories come flooding back that I have tried to never revisit. My scars seem to screech with every move I make, reminding me of every bite, every whip, every painful thing that was done to my body.

Instead of letting all these memories and horrors and things that most people can’t comprehend without having experienced debilitate me, I listen to Aiden. I use them to power me, my hits getting stronger, my focus becoming laser-sharp.

Every time I land a hit on Aiden, I let a different grievance flash through my mind, making me push that much harder; to hit with that much more force. I feel stronger with every hit, every awful memory that floods back.

A strange sound echoes around us, and I realize that it’s me. A guttural, feral scream that doesn’t even sound human is erupting from my mouth, my attack on Aiden increasing in ferocity.

Aiden lurches forward suddenly, somehow avoiding getting clocked in the face. He loops his arms under mine and holds me tight against him. It’s only then that I realize I’m sobbing openly.

I battle against him, the closeness making me panic. “Stop!” I scream through my wails, squeezing my eyes shut tight enough to make my head almost hurt. “No!”

He doesn’t let go and I feel lips on my ear. “You are safe,” he says, his voice soothing. “You are safe.”

I feel us sink together to the ground. Instead of trying to push him away again, I feel myself curl into Aiden. I shuffle my body around until I’m straddling his lap, clinging to him for dear life as my tears soak the skin of his neck and down into his t-shirt. One of his arms wrap around my body, his hand gripping my waist on the opposite side. The other arm wraps around to let his hand grip my hip. I’ve never been so securely held in my entire life, and that starts a new wave of sobs when I think of every time that my mother avoided affection with me. It just…wasn’ther thing.

“What hedid, Aiden,” I say, my face buried in his neck as I cry. “The things he did to me. The things he letotherpeople do to me. They all hurt me and took from me, and left this empty spot in me that just wants to go to sleep and not wake up.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I tense with fear at the word vomit, waiting to hear him react with disgust at my mention of suicide when I should be grateful for having been rescued from that place.

Instead, he only murmurs, “I know.”

It gives me the power to keep talking about the things I’ve never voiced. “His daughter was almost worse. She was so cruel because she hated me for being there. She’s the one who gave me to Jack before I killed him, knowing he was going to rape me. She wanted me to hurt and to be ruined, but she didn’t understand that I was ruined a long time before that day.”

I feel Aiden tense, but after a moment, he blows out a breath. “You’re not ruined,” he says, still speaking softly into my ear. “You also don’t need coddling. You’re not weak. You survived for years—years—with those pieces of shit, Kitten. You are stronger than anyone has ever given you credit for.”

I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m falling apart, the darkest parts of my history playing out like a TV across my closed eyelids. But at least my tears are starting to ebb.

“Then we can kill all the people who hurt you,” Aiden says, his tone decidedly darker. “And then it’ll be like…” I suck in a surprised gasp when he sings. “Goodbyyyyyyeeeee, Earrrrrrlll.”

A choked laugh escapes me, and the fact that I can laugh at all gives me a sense of hope. “Aiden,” I gasp out.

“Yes?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

I can’t see his face, but I can feel the grin in his words. “I know.”

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