Page 74 of Forgive Me For I Have Sinned

"I am not allowed to say, but you will find out."

"Just please go take a shower. I hate to say this, but you look like shit."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Bathroom’s that way." He points to the left, and a door leads to the bathroom, and the light is already on."

"Where's Alaric?"

"On his way."

My heartbeat begins to calm down, but my legs feel like rubber when I try to stand. My throat is still sore from all the screaming, and my chest hurts when I take deep breaths from all the crying. I'm going to kill him.

When I walk into the bathroom, I sigh in relief when I don't see a bathtub, and it's just a shower with no doors. The dark porcelain tile is everywhere. A white marble vanity is to the left on the walls and floors. I notice a red robe placed neatly on the side with shampoo, conditioner, and bath wash in clear bottles with red bows.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I see that Adam wasn't kidding. I look like shit. There are dark circles under my eyes. I'm a mess. I can't stop shaking, and I know what is to come. The numbness. The need to feel. I look around and notice a razor. I pick it up and take it with me.

The steam comes from the shower like a sign that I'm home. A shelter to drown my pain of being alone, but I learned that sadness needs company too, and depression is its best friend. The pain is its food and tears its ocean.

The waterfalls are like acid rain on my skin. The steam is a storm cloud of my emotions, taking away cold air to breathe. I wash my body. I wince at my wrist. There are fingerprints under the redness from the rope where they tied my wrists together. My fingers grip the razor. It's new, and I know it will cut if I angle it just right. I crouch on the tile and let sobs rack my body. The sound of defeat echoes in the shower like a warning. I angle the razor on the inner part of my ankle.

"You shouldn't damage something so pretty." I jolt, dropping the razor, hearing it clink on the tile and watching him pick it up. I didn't notice him come in. I was so lost in my head.

"Give it back," I croak. "I need you to leave me alone."

"I can't do that. If you need to cut, you cut me." I glance up, confused. My eyes trail down his naked body. "Here," he holds the razor near the skin on his chest, "cut me." He wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "I'll bleed for you." My bottom lip trembles.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not. I'm saving you."

"I can't be saved."

He steps forward, throwing the razor on the ground until we're inches apart. In a split second, Alaric lifts me in his arms, his hands gripping my butt and wrapping my legs around his waist. I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry. I had to have them take you the way that they did."

"Why? I was so scared."

He looks down between us and feels it. "You're trembling."

"I can't make it stop. I need to––" I trail off.

I hate admitting to him that cutting makes it stop, but my whole body is shaking. "Fuck. I'm so sorry. He was watching you, baby. Dorian was watching you after he left the restaurant, and Adam told me what he did. What he said. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. Look at me, Veronica." I pull back and see pain mirrored in his eyes. "I know this sounds fucked up, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" I look away. Every time I trust someone, they fuck me over, or they die. "You're going to stay with me. You're not going back. Ever." I nod because I don't want to go back. "Answer me."

"Y-yes."

He pushes me against the shower wall, my legs slide down, and I wait until I can stand. He wraps his hand around my throat, and arousal shoots between my legs. "Let me wash up."

He washes us both and it soothes me at how gentle he is. He makes sure the shaking stops, warming my skin before rinsing us both off.

After he dries us both, he carries me bridal style into the bedroom and places me in the center of the bed. "You have a thing with chains."

There are chains anchored to the wall. Three separated inches apart.

"I do. I like them, but I like them better on you." He pulls the middle one, with a leather collar attached, and fastens it on me. He slides his thumb over my lips and whispers, "Beautiful."

"Where are your chains?"

He smiles, lifting an eyebrow. "Is that what you want? To chain me."

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