Inner Demons- ON HOLD

Chapter 8.

The silence was painful as I tried to gather myself to compose the words. "You weren't supposed to see those. I'm sorry. Don't worry, the scars are old."

He sat still, breathing slowly, his hand gripping hard against his knee. "Emma, why do you have five deep horizontal scars on your inner thigh?"

My breath caught and I tried to steel my nerves, knowing I needed to answer him. His hand moved to hold mine, and I gripped it willingly. "I did it. But it was a long time ago. I was younger and I haven't done it in years."

He shook his head and frowned, furrowing his brows in concentration. "But why would you feel you had to do that at all? What would make you want to cut yourself?"

My spine stiffened at the memory and I focused hard on breathing in and out evenly. "It started that way, but I kept doing it as a message. It became more of a statement than self harm."

His body became rigid but his grasp on my hand remained gentle, stroking the back of my hand gently. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep his voice even and soothing. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath and looked to our hands, focusing on his touch and my breath. "It was just a boy one of my foster parents had staying with us. He was older and only stayed for the year until he aged out."

He squeezed my hand, willing me to continue.

I straightened and nodded, trying to get it out as quickly as I could, holding only our hands in my sight. "He'd been there about two months and he always paid...more attention to me. I was the oldest of my foster siblings. I was fifteen at the time and I knew what he thought of me, but was naïve enough to not be concerned. One day I came home from school and he and his friends had skipped. Our foster parents were at work and I was the first one home. They'd clearly been partying all day and I knew better than to walk in, but did so anyway. It was my first mistake."

I felt him struggling to stay still as he listened intently to me, never stopping his fingers as they stroked my hand.

"I went straight upstairs and went to lock the door, but he'd followed me upstairs, saying he just wanted to talk about my day, but before long he had pushed me forward, pinning me down onto my bed."

My breath caught in my throat as the memory flashed vividly into my brain.

"I tried to get away from him, but I just wasn't strong enough. He...forced himself on me. His friends must have heard me scream and came upstairs to watch. He said they'd all get a turn now that he'd popped my cherry. After he was finished, his friend joined in right behind him. One of the others was waiting when my parents pulled up to the house. They heard it and bolted out of my window down the fire escape, leaving me in the room alone."

I felt Xander's body vibrating in anger and my eyes flashed up to see his face fierce with anger. I continued quickly, trying to finish the horrible story before the dam broke.

"The first cut was for myself. I just wanted to remove the pain. I needed some ounce of control over my life, however possible. The others were for every time he did it after, so that he could see and feel the pain he was inflicting on me. I wanted him to be faced with it every time his hand moved against my leg. After the last time, he'd finally aged out and left the house, leaving me just with the scarred reminders." I exhaled and felt my entire body shudder as the last of the memory surged through my brain.

A growl rumbled through Xander's chest and he held my hands firmly. His now crimson eyes met mine and anger mixed with protective worry crossed them.

He hissed through clenched teeth, speaking lowly. "If I knew where he was, I'd kill him myself. That coward doesn't deserve to be alive. Emma, I am sorry you had to endure that."