Unmarked

26. Secrets Revealed

A dim light seeps in through my eyelids. I inhale deeply and the scent of Grey fills my nostrils, the same smell I had woken up to early and had instinctively felt safe or as safe as I can be in this place. It's odd. I barely know Grey.

The agonising pressure in my head builds as I move slowly to assess my surroundings. A small lamp illuminates a sleeping Grey laying on his front next to me. We're in his room. Laying on his bed.

Pressing my palms against my eyes, I search my brain for images, memories, any detail of last night. It's blank.

Grey said Lena drugged me. Grey stopped the man before he took my outfit off. This is all I know.

I suppress the urge to wretch. Breathe. Slow and steady, in and out. Slowly shifting onto my side, I face Grey. Matching my inhalations and exhalations to the rise and fall of his back, I listen to the gentle sound of him sleeping.

Fully clothed, he lays on top of the bedsheets. Maybe, I should be embarrassed or uncomfortable by his closeness but I'm not. In fact, I feel nothing. My mind is numb. My body is hollow. The only sensation I recognise is a gentle ripple of nausea churning in my stomach.

I'm detached and unaffected and I strangely like it. It's easier this way. When my mind starts to process the events of last night that will be when it gets difficult. Later, I will have to fight the surge of emotions which will threaten to take over. That is when I will start to struggle.

My eyes drift over Grey's body. His top has hitched up in his sleep and my gaze is automatically drawn to his exposed lower back. It's not the defined muscular smooth skin or the glimpse of his markings beckoning me. I'm drawn in by the edge of a specific marking. A marking I know too well, one I've only seen on one other person. A specific brand which reveals Grey's past.

I gently lift his top up to expose flowing brown branches with green detailed ornate leaves curling around names. A beautiful family tree across his back represents ancestors and family relationships. It's a common marking. A lot of people like to mark their family's history on their backs. My mother has a family tree marking as does Teddy. I've seen glimpses of it when Teddy bends over and his top creeps up, showing the bottom part of the tree which has been left blank for his future children, his descendants.

However, as I raise the hem of Grey's t-shirt, it is not the beautiful detailed original design which holds my attention, it's the solid, thick black squares seared across his back which cover various names so they are no longer identifiable. The same squares which feature on my mother's wrist are burnt into Grey's flesh. My hand continues to lift his top exposing his labour camp brands.

Grey jerks and spins towards me. Grabbing my wrists, he pushes me down onto the bed and pins them on either side of my head. Straddling me, he towers above me, his face dark and hard and his eyes narrowed.

I should be scared. I'm not. For some reason, I don't think Grey would hurt me. It's a stupid thought. Caring about someone means they automatically have the power to hurt you and usually they do. The revelation I care about Grey hits me like an unexpected punch to the gut.

"You were sent to a labour camp," I say calmly, not resisting his grip. My eyes drift to the leather cuffs around his wrists and I visualise the same square markings charred into his skin. This is his secret.

Grey inhales sharply, his eyes widen with fear. I feel his hands tremble slightly.

"I won't tell anyone," I whisper, my gaze meeting his. "I promise."

Grey's hands continue to grip my wrists, pushing them into the bed on either side of my head. His breathing is ragged, his eyes still wide with panic and he's shaking.