Ever so slowly, I lowered my mouth to the lime. As I did so, I felt the brush of her lips on mine.
Just a touch. Just a breath, and it ignited fire in my veins.
And at that moment, I forgot a lot. My heart stopped, my breathing quit, my thoughts cea...
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Other times, Laurent, I want to see how good those lips taste.
A shiver ran down my spine as he continued massaging, his hands sliding lower to where my scars littered my skin.
"What is this?" he whispered, tracing the tattered skin lightly.
"Don't," I said, tensing and suddenly regretting letting him do this.
He was quiet. "Do you not want me to touch them?"
I don't know. I don't know how to handle this. The last time someone touched my scars, it was because they were creating more. I don't know how to not panic at your proximity. I don't know how to trust you.
I just shrugged helplessly – as well as I could, lying in the position I was in.
"You know I'm not going to hurt you, right?" he said softly.
I hesitated.
"Laurent."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Look at me."
I lifted my head from the downward position it was in and turned it to face him, all while still laying on my stomach.
"Who did this to you?"
My father.
It was almost laughable. My own father, whom I was supposed to trust, was the person who had caused me the most pain. Who had broken me in more ways than I could count.
But I couldn't say it to him - not when it was too embarrassing to admit that my own father tortured me.
"Why do you even care?" I hissed instead, grabbing the robe and pulling it over myself. "This is stupid, anyway. I should be studying. I don't know why I'm here." I tied the robe back over myself and slid on my shoes, ignoring my friends' protests and walking out the door.
✦✧✦✧
"I'm sorry if I... pushed it too far."
Augustus settled in beside me in bed, his apology now echoing in my ears.
"It's your own personal business. I shouldn't have pushed it. But if you want to talk about it... I'll be here to listen, okay?"
But they all say that.
Everyone wants to make the offer, but when you finally confide in them, what always happens?
They smile. They nod. And then they turn around and laugh. And they'll find every opportunity to use it against you – to stab the knife right back into the wound.
