The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Eighteen

Three days later we were home again. Everything looked different than how I left it, it was clean, and a trail of rose petals led up the stairs.
I turned to look at him, about to laugh out loud at how absurdly over the top this promised to be, but the look in his eyes was so hesitantly terrified that I couldn't. We met each other's gaze and my heart stopped.

He took my hand in his and squeezed it gently.
"Let's start again," he said softly.
I nodded and bit my lip, and a smile flashed across his face, like rapid starlight.
We followed the petals up the stairs and into the bedroom. The blackout curtains were closed and the room was dim, the blanket folded back invitingly. He led me to the bed and we sat on the edge together.
My heart stuttered back to life and began to beat deafeningly. He smiled at me again, longer and slower this time, and as if he knew what I was thinking he placed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat was even faster than mine.

"Are you scared?" He asked, and I closed my eyes to try and calm myself, and nodded again.
"Me too," he said shyly and giggled a little, in a way of never heard him do before.
It was infectious, I couldn't help but laugh too, and the fear melted away.
We lay down side by side and stared at the ceiling. It was starting to get dark and the cars driving by made shadows dance across it. Aaron turned on his side and kissed my cheek tentatively.
I froze as his breath tickled my skin. He grew bolder, kissing along my neck and then towards my lips, but I didn't respond. He cupped my shoulder with his hand, pulling me closer.
His touch was so gentle but each kiss kindled pain and terror in my chest. I wasn't ready for this, there were too many memories buried in my flesh. I wanted to scream out loud and push him away, attack him with my nails and fists. But I was frozen in place, and my mouth couldn't seem to move to ask him to stop.

He stopped suddenly, as if he had noticed I wasn't responding.
Then his face was above mine and he was looking anxiously down into my eyes.
"Are you ok?" He asked kindly.
I shook my head, letting out a strange squeaking noise.
Concern filled his face. "I'm sorry," he exclaimed. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"It's ok," I whispered, but it didn't feel ok. It felt like my whole world was on fire. I barely knew what was real and what was not.
He offered his hand to help me sit up.
"We can go as slow as you want," he said to me, and for the first time he was paying complete attention to me, his whole body turned towards me, his eyes looking into mine without blinking or hiding.
"Thank you," I said, and, surprising myself, I kissed him quickly.
He grinned like a teenager then, and put his arm around me.
"Take your shirt off," I told him. His face fell, but then he smiled, defeated.
He pulled it over his head, and I motioned for him to lie down on his stomach beside me.
I traced each scar with my fingers, feeling the raised ridges of each mark of the belt. He whimpered and shuddered at each one.
"Why?" I whispered.
But he couldn't answer. He was frozen, exactly like I was.
"I hate him," I said vehemently. "What did you ever do to deserve this?"
He turnes onto his back then, unable to take any more. I was suddenly presented with his toned abs and chest, and I stared at them appreciatively. My fingers twitched with the desire to touch.
A laugh choked out of his throat.
"Better view?" He asked and I nodded shyly, reaching out to him. He caught my hands, stopping me.
"You're turn," he said, grinning.
My face fell.
"You don't have to."
But I realised I did. If I ever wanted my life to forget, I had to experience all this in another way. A gentle, kind and loving way.
I pulled my top off, wrapping my arms around myself to try and hide my pretty white bralet.
He swallowed hard and stared at me hungrily. The way his eyes lit up kind of scared me.
"You're beautiful," he whispered. No one had ever called me that. It made me all warm and fuzzy. But it was hard to believe him.
I shook my head. He caught my chin in his fingers and made me look at him.
"Yes, you are. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
He kissed me then, full on the mouth, and I had never been kissed like that before. It was hot and hard and full of passion and it melted my insides.
We were lying side by side then and only just touching and we fell asleep like that a while later, with our fingers intertwined and that kiss still burning our skin.