“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you seeing what my demons are, or what they’ve done. It’s one ugly fucked up shit,” I tell her almost in a whisper. Just talking about it makes my body tense up.
“Do you trust me?”
Now that is a question that I don’t even need to think about. I pushed Brooklyn to the end of her limits last night. Now, I know that her heart, her soul, and her body belongs with me. To me. She trusted me. I got the heart that I craved, but also a woman that is brave, strong, and a fighter.
“More than I can say.” I take her hand and kiss it. “If I turn that light on, it will prove how ugly I am.”
Her hand leaves my shoulder, and as I see her moving towards the bedside lamp, I reach over to stop her from turning the light on.
I take a deep breath in, and stand up, pulling my t-shirt over my head.
“I need you to close your eyes until I ask you to open them.” My voice comes out wheezy. This is difficult. It’s hard to tell a story that I fear so much.
I take her hands in mine, making her flinch, but she says nothing. I graze the tips of her fingers over my chest. My heart beats faster, the closer I get to my scar. This is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time. Flattening her hand against my chest, she flinches again.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper, as I lift her chin up so she sees me first. I want to make it easier for her, because seeing my scars isn’t a small thing. I don’t know if I’m making this easier for her or for me.
Brooklyn blinks a few times as she adjusts her sight to the light in the room. She continues to hold my eyes with hers for a moment, and I wonder if by looking at her, she will see that no matter what, I’ll always be here for her; the same Atlas that she sees every day.
“This is my past, a past that haunts me every night.” I choke out as the terror runs through my throat. The words feels like I’m reliving it all again.
I watch her slowly move her eyes down my body. She places her hands against my chest and starts to get firmer as she inspects every inch of my nightmare.
My body shivers at the thought of telling her about how they got there. Never thought I would have to retell this nightmare again, but I have to show her.
Brooklyn moves her hand away from my chest, sitting back silently just looking at my chest.
I grab my sweat pants off the floor, and put them on, giving her a moment to look at my back, which is as bad as my chest.
Those fuckers didn’t leave any part of my body untouched.
“I’m as ugly as you thought,” I whisper as I turn back to face her, the words tremble in the air around me.
“No, I don’t...I never...” she looks at me, then back to my chest. “I haven’t run out of the room, have I?” I stay quiet at her question and listen to the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. “Want to tell me about it?” Her words come out quite soft, a whisper.
I can feel the sweat build in the palm of my hands, as I think about where to start, there’s so much to talk about. I told Lucy only parts of it, mainly about the scars. Maybe that’s all I need to tell Brooklyn, but if I want this to work, I have to tell her something.
I have no idea where to start or what to say to her.
“I met Aiden and Rhys in the army, we were in the same squad. Deployed to a watch point, we got ambushed.” My heart races as I talk, not sure if I can do this all over again as images flash in front of me. I pace the room, wanting to get the images away from me. “It was either we all die, or one of us gets captured, so the others can get help. Without talking to them, I surrendered myself and asked them to get help.” I stop for a moment to get a drink. I need alcohol to relive those horrendous experiences again, shit is about to get fucked up with the things I’m about to tell her.
I stay by the window and look out at the dark, silent night. How peaceful it is when you feel safe, but it can be hell when you’re being tortured.
“They say I was there for a week, but fuck it felt like months. They did that much shit to me in a week, I dread to think what they would have done if it was a month.” I turn around, lean on the dresser, but can’t find the strength to look at Brooklyn. “It all started with being tied up, my feet barely touching the floor, the only thing they were touching was the broken shards of glass. Two days they left me like that in a pitch black room.” I swallow the lump in my throat as my fingers move along the burnt scar over my stomach.
“The light would turn on, and before my eyes could adjust to the brightness, I would feel my skin burn from the iron rod. I can still smell my skin burning. As you can see, that happened a few times.” My voice breaks as my body tenses up, and my eyes close shut just to get the screams out of my head. My screams.
My grip tightens around the glass, I place it on the dresser worried I will break it.
“They finally took me out of the darkroom to hang me again — naked. They beat me, cut me, the worst…” I can feel my hands getting numb as the grip I have on the dresser increases. I draw in a deep breath as I bring my finger towards the wound on my chest, as I look down at the scar, I grace it with my finger. “The worst was them puncturing me with sharp objects: screwdrivers, wires, anything.”
I look over at Brooklyn staring at me, listening to every word I’m saying, I can see the water hitting the surface of her eyes, and the sadness for me is about to escape them.
“I don’t sleep because my dreams turn to nightmares. I can stand here and tell you everything that happened, but…” I stop as Brooklyn gets off the bed, and walks over to me. “There is so much to even-“
Brooklyn puts her finger on my lips to stop me from talking. “You wake me up whenever you need me, you want to talk, I’m here to listen.” My arms wrap around her, and I hold her tightly. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she whispers into my chest.
I kiss the top of her head. “I’m happy that you haven’t run away,” I tell her, and she says nothing, just letting me hold her.
I knew Brooklyn was meant for me, I knew that her heart always belonged to me and no one else.
“Do I get to ask a question?”
I was wondering how long it would take her to ask me something. I wonder if it’s about my nightmares or about the club. She has been through a lot in the space of twenty-four hours. She has found out a lot about me, my business, my past. Her head must be going crazy right now.
“Just one?” I ask her as she pulls away for me.
“I have a lot of questions, and I’m not even sure what I should be asking.” I give her a small kiss and wait for her to ask her question.
Brooklyn begins to slowly move her hand down my chest, I close my eyes as I feel the tip of her finger moving over one scar. I stop her before she can move to the next one; I don’t like anyone touching them, no one touches them. Not just Brooklyn, but me too. Soon as my finger grazes over the scar, I feel like I’m there again, it feels as though they have only just burned me.
She looks up at me, and her eyes fill with water, not sure if it’s because I stopped her, or because she feels the pain I went through, now that she has seen them.
“The hotel?” The only words Brooklyn needs to say for me to know what her question is. I know she has questions about my nightmares but won’t ask. I’m hoping she knows how hard it is for me to talk about it. I take her hand and walk back over to the bed. As we get back into bed, I cover us both and pull her closer to me tucking her in my chest.