TRUTH (23 page)

“I don’t want to be frightened,” she whispered.

“It’ll get better. We’ll work on it together.”

She cuddled closer.

“I spoke to Ross today.” She tensed as I spoke. “I invited him and his girlfriend over for dinner Friday night.”

Brianna sat up, her eyes wide with shock.
 

I laughed.

“Do you not want to see Ross?”

“Yes. I just thought . . . I thought you didn’t like him.”

Twining our fingers together, I brought our linked hands up to my mouth. “I can put up with him for your sake.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She smiled and leaned in to give me an awkward hug.

I released her hand and returned the gesture. “I’d do anything to make you happy, Brianna. Anything.”

For the next hour, I held her. We talked here and there but about nothing particular.
 

When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I told her to go get her journal. I went to the closet to get the blanket I’d had out the previous night for the floor, and tried to wipe any apprehension off my face. This wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but it needed to be done. What had happened Sunday could have disastrous affects if it took place in a more public setting.
 

She walked back into the living room, clutching her journal and with her head bowed. I let her wait until I’d finished fixing the blanket. “Come.”

We settled into our spots on the blanket with her sitting between my legs. I liked this position because it allowed me to both read over her shoulder and provide her comfort at the same time. Yes, I could have accomplished those two things in both my chair and in bed, but I didn’t want either of those places tainted with any negatives. The chair and my bed were positive places for her. I wanted to keep them that way.

“Tonight I want us to start working on what happened Sunday morning.” She stiffened, and I leaned down to brush my lips along her shoulder. “I want you to write in your journal the words you can remember the men using.”

“Please . . .”

I turned her chin so that I could look at her. “They are only words, Brianna. Just words. They can’t hurt you, just like those men can’t hurt you anymore. You are safe here with me. Just. Words.”

She pressed her lips together but didn’t respond.
 

That fearful look in her eyes was back. I wished I could make it go away, but this was something we had to deal with.
 

Releasing her chin, I nodded toward her journal and waited for her to open it.
 

Slowly, she picked up her pen and opened to a fresh page. I could almost feel her giving herself a pep talk as she inched the writing utensil closer.
 

Then it was as if something clicked inside her, and she started to write. The words were written quickly, and I could barely make some of them out.
 

Whore.
 

Bitch.
 

Cunt.

Fuckhole.

Cumdump.

Slut.

The pen stopped moving and hovered over the paper before dropping from her hand, bouncing off my leg, and hitting the floor.
 

I reached out to touch her, and she flinched. It was subtle, but I noticed. Brianna hadn’t pulled away from me since those first few weeks.
 

“Brianna.”
 

Nothing.

“Brianna,” I said with more force.

She jumped.

“Turn around and look at me.”

When she did, I felt a sharp pain stab in my chest. The wonderful, strong woman I’d come to know these last two months wasn’t there. Her face was devoid of emotion. Her eyes were distant and unfocused. The sight made me want to cry and hit something at the same time. Preferably Ian’s face.

“Brianna, can you tell me what number?”

Still nothing.
 

Sighing, I removed the journal from her hands and stood. Picking her up, I situated us both back in my chair and wrapped my arms around her. She’d come out of it . . . eventually.
 

Brianna

I could feel movement under me, but it took me a while to realize it was someone breathing. Someone was holding me. It was as if I were underwater. I could hear things, but they all seemed muffled and far away. If someone was holding me, though, I couldn’t be underwater, right?

Gradually the sounds became voices. A television.

There were arms around me, holding me against a chest. I breathed deep, and a familiar scent filled my nostrils. Stephan.

I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me.
 

“Welcome back.”
 

His voice was calm, but I could see the worry in his eyes. I knew something must have happened to put it there.
 

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

I thought about it for a few moments. “A little tired, and . . .” Glancing down at my hand, I realized it didn’t feel quite right. “My hand . . . aches?”

He nodded.

“You were gripping your pen rather hard, and you’ve had your hand in a fist for the last forty-five minutes. I’m not surprised it’s bothering you.”
 

Stephan took my hand in both of his and massaged each finger until the ache began to subside. I relaxed into him, enjoying the sensation as the blood flow returned to my hand.

He kissed my palm before releasing it. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Thinking back, I told him what I could remember. “We were sitting on the floor. I was writing in my journal. And . . .”

“And?”

My memory returned. “I could hear the voices again.”

“Brianna, look at me.”

It took effort, but I pulled myself out of my thoughts to do as he told me.

“You are here with me, remember? Those voices? Those men? They’re not here.”

I nodded.

He sighed.

“Maybe we should get some rest and talk about this more tomorrow.”

“No!”
 

I don’t know why, but the thought of stopping whatever this was now frightened me. It was only after my initial reaction registered, however, that I realized I was not only holding Stephan’s shirt in a death grip but that he was looking down at me, eyes wide, as if I’d grown two heads.

Thinking back on what I’d said, I started to feel the weight of what I’d just done. Not only had I said no, I’d also yelled at him. I’d yelled at Stephan.
 

Bowing my head, I placed my hands in my lap and waited.
 

Nothing happened for a very long time, and I began to get anxious. I’d never said no to him before, and I had no idea how he’d react. Stephan was completely different from Ian.

“Stand up.” He didn’t sound angry, but his voice wasn’t soft and comforting as it had been earlier.
 

I scrambled to comply.
 

“Come with me.”
 

Following as ordered, I trailed behind him into his bedroom. We didn’t stop there, however. He kept walking until we were both standing in the large walk-in closet. I’d been in there a few times since I’d begun sleeping in his room, even though my clothes were still in my bedroom. It was about half the size of his bedroom, and one side was full of suits, ties, and shoes. He bypassed everything, though, and went straight to the full-length mirror on the back wall. Not sure what he wanted me to do, I remained a couple of feet behind him.
 

He turned, a determined look on his face. “Stand here in front of me, facing the mirror.” He pointed to a spot on the carpet.
 

I moved to where I was told. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him. I’d done wrong. I would have to face the consequences.

“Look in the mirror. Look at yourself. What do you see?”

“Me?”

“What about you?”

Unsure what he wanted, I listed the obvious. “Brown hair. Blue eyes. I’m wearing your collar. A navy blue shirt. Jeans . . .” I stopped because I had no idea what else he wanted me to say. That was it. That was all I saw. There was nothing else.

“Remove your clothes.”

I stared back at him in the mirror. The serious expression never faded.
 

Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I lifted it over my head, and let it drop to the floor. Quickly, I removed the rest of what I was wearing until I was completely naked.

Stephan picked up my discarded clothes and placed them on top of the large dresser in the center of the room. When he returned to stand behind me, he placed his hands on my shoulders and met my gaze in the mirror. “Now tell me what you see.”

I looked. This time I saw all of my body’s imperfections. The burn rings around my nipples. The marks on the inside of my thighs. I could even see the faint scar just above my knee where someone had taken a knife and cut me.
 

One by one, I relayed these things to him. With every word, I felt as if something were pressing down on my shoulders, although Stephan had removed his hands before I’d even started talking. I didn’t like looking at myself in the mirror. My scars were permanent reminders of what had happened to me. Permanent reminders that I would never be normal.

“So you don’t see a slut? A whore? A fuckhole? A bitch? A cumdrop? A cunt?” I jerked as he said each word.

Closing my eyes, I began to cry.
 

“Open your eyes and look at yourself, Brianna.”

I didn’t want to. I didn’t.

He took my chin in his hand, holding my head still. “Open your eyes. Now.”

I did what he said, but I couldn’t see anything through my tears.
 

Stephan didn’t release my face as he lowered his mouth to whisper in my ear. “You are a beautiful woman, Brianna, on the inside and out. You are not any of those things. You are not a
thing
at all. You are a person. A person who deserves everything she wants out of life. Can you see that?”

I shook my head.

He sighed and took a step back. I could tell he was disappointed in me, but I didn’t know how to fix it.
 

We took our shower and climbed into his bed. Unfortunately, he didn’t try to have sex with me. He touched me like he always did, but I wanted to feel him surrounding me. I wanted him to make me stop thinking. The fact that he didn’t made me wonder if I’d done something else wrong.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” He must have realized I wasn’t actually reading the book I had in my hands.

“Did I do something wrong, Sir?”

Stephan brushed the hair away from my face and tilted my head up so I was looking at him. “No. Why would you think you have?”

“It’s just . . . earlier . . . you seemed so disappointed in me. And then . . . you haven’t . . . you haven’t wanted to have sex . . .”

“Brianna, I’m not disappointed in you exactly. I’m frustrated with the situation. More than anything, I want you to see how truly wonderful you are. It makes me angry to know not only what those men did to you physically but mentally as well. I want to help you fix it, but I’m just not sure I can—at least not quickly.”

I didn’t like the way he was talking, like he wasn’t helping me. “You do help me. So much. I just . . .” Glancing down, I considered how best to word what I wanted to say. “I keep hearing them. In my head. It’s not that I want to hear them. I can’t help it,” I cried.

“Shh.” He pulled me into his arms and held me tight. “I know you’re trying, Brianna. I do.”

Finally, my tears dried, but I still wasn’t willing to let him go. If I had my way, I would stay in his arms forever and never have to deal with the outside world again. I knew it wasn’t ever going to happen, but I would take what I could get.

“Brianna?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think I don’t want to have sex with you? It couldn’t be further from the truth.”