SKINTIGHT (Watty Awards 2024)

Chapter 21

Hi everyone!!! How are you finding Skintight so far?? Just two more chapters after this one and then a quick break while I finish off the sequel 😅

I love you guys a lot. This story is really personal to me and the feedback so far has been truly great to read ❤️❤️

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Violet

Rio lifts one of the paintings up into the air. It's a large canvas — another oil painting. It outlines the left side of my stomach and part of my pelvis. There's a light blue mark on the edge of my pelvic bone, fading to a greenish yellow. Rio replaces it with another one. This one shows my midriff, from my waist to my under-bust. Half my nipple is visible, but Rio pays no attention to it. Instead, he's focused on the purple bruise across my ribcage. It's darker underneath each rib, emphasising each one of my bones. The blemish takes up half my side. Rio runs his fingers over the paint.

"That was last year, right before graduation," I tell him. "We were at a party. I told him I didn't want to have sex. He didn't talk to me until I agreed."

"And he did this?"

"That's how it always was," I point to another one — one of a handprint on my upper arm. "He was mad I didn't show up to his game."

"And this one?" Rio holds up a painting of my knees, both littered with red marks. There's a carpet burn on the right one. A small drop of blood spills out of it.

"That's what good girlfriends do," I repeat the words he said to me. He wouldn't let me stand up until he finished. I motion to a canvas beside the door. It shows my thighs and ass, covered in green bruises. "I forgot to text him back."

He goes through some more, taking each one in. I don't like it. It feels invasive. He shouldn't be in here. This is supposed to be private. I've never shown anyone these before, but he's right — there's a lot of them; enough to fill a gallery. Half of me wants to kick him out of here, but the other half couldn't give less of a fuck what he sees, or what he knows. I'm done with Jack. I don't care what the consequences are.

"What's this one?" Rio heads to the easel, eying the unfinished canvas. It shows the space from my lips down to my upper chest. My chin and jaw are painted a light skin tone, with only a few hues of blue showing faded bruises. There are scratch marks across my collarbone from my attempts to escape. My whole throat is blotched and bruised. A dark purple shade marks the place of his fingers. Seeing this makes me sick to my stomach.

I should have died that night. It should've been the end of it. I would've been out of my misery, and Jack would be in prison — right where he belongs.

"That was the first time I fought back," I say. "He choked me until I couldn't breathe."

"You passed out?"

"For a little, yeah." And I woke up with his dick inside me.

"Fuck," he looks away.

"It's okay. It was a while ago."

"When was it?"

"At the start of the year. I'd just gotten accepted into Westbury."

"That's recent."

"It feels like forever ago."

"Jesus Christ," he shakes his head in disgust. He doesn't wanna know all of this. I don't know why I'm telling him. I can't seem to keep my mouth shut. It's easier than telling Dani or Isaiah. There's a sense of calm around him. I don't need to fear his reaction or question my own statements. It's freeing. It's easy. He glances my way, searching my eyes god a hint of distress or upset, but there is none. Everything I'm saying is matter-of-fact. I couldn't share this with him if I let my emotions in — if I let myself feel the words I speak.