Page 35 of Break Me

Drawing a steadying sigh, I lift my arm and give her the closest thing to a name I can express as I show her the tattoo.

I keep my eyes on the mark, not wanting to see her reaction, and the nervous tension in my chest loosens as I watch it.

DAX001.

I might not belong to him for good, but for now, I’m his. And that’s all that matters. Suddenly, I’m gripped by an urge to get back to him.

I’m once again about to leave but pause at Lavinia’s hesitant words.

“I have marks too,” she says with a hint of pain. She’s looking down at something, and I step back up to the hatch and follow her eyes to see her lift her thigh slightly. The sight nearly makes me gasp. Even though her cell is dimly lit and the hatch gives me an awkward line of sight, the marks are vivid. Old cuts crisscross each other, and round spots rise on her skin. None of it looks like suicide attempts. Those kinds of cuts would be closer to major blood vessels—on thin skin. And those burn marks… Cigarette marks. There’s no way she did that to herself.

“A man I was with…” Her voice is mournful as she explains. “He promised me everything, but this was what I got. He used to cut me with a knife, just for the fun of it. Stubbed out his cigars on my skin. I’m sorry someone hurt you too.”

Hurt me too?

I frown.

She thinks the tattoo is a sign of abuse. A man who has hurt me with no care for my well-being. And that man is Dax.

I step back as I point at his mark and shake my head.Dax is not that man.He protects me down here. Opens up sides of me I’d never dare to explore without him—gives me a place to beme.He does a lot of other things too, but at the end of the day, he takes care of me, gives me purpose, and makes me feel like I belong.

Anger wells inside me, and I set off in a run. Toward the man who owns me—my heart, my soul, and even my thoughts. The only man who has ever made me feel special and cherished. The man I crave with every submissive fiber of my being.

21

EMMA

My anger at Lavinia for misinterpreting the mark fades within a few days. Because how could she know better? The marks on her body tell a whole different story than mine, and there’s no way for her to know that. So, of course, she assumed it was a sign of abuse. All she wanted was to show some compassion and find common ground.

But most of all, what drives me to return to her cell the next time Dax makes me wait in the hall, is the desire to hear her voice. Even when she spoke, her soft, lyrical tone caressed my ears and soothed my soul. Or maybe it was her gentle disposition. I don’t know. Either way, I’m more than a little eager to hear it as I open the hatch.

She gets up from the mattress the moment she sees me. The straitjacket is gone today, leaving her fully naked, like me. Taking the blanket with her and wrapping it around her, she approaches the door.

“I’m so sorry if I said something to offend you.” She stops a step from the hatch. “I really didn’t mean to. Please believe me. Please stay.”

Reaching my hand through the hatch, I offer her a sign of forgiveness. She tentatively slips her delicate fingers onto my palm, and I try to convey my forgiveness through my eyes as I nod and gently close my hand around hers.

“How long have you been here?” Her fingers twitch with uncertainty as she hurriedly adds, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

I hold up three fingers.

“Weeks?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Months?” she tries, and I confirm. Then I point at her to return the inquiry.

“Um, I’m not sure. A couple of weeks maybe. I’ve lost count.”

I point into the cell, trying to convey a question in my expression.

She glances back into the padded room, then realizes what I mean. “If I’ve been in here all the time?”

I nod.

“Yes. They only let me out to use the bathroom and to wash me down in the evenings.” She shudders as she adds, “And well, for the electrotherapy. You’re lucky you don’t have to get that.”

She goes quiet for a while, and I simply stroke the back of her hand as she stares off into the distance, seemingly deep in thought.

“Do you think someone knows what they’re doing here? I mean, like the government or someone?”

Swallowing hard, I shake my head. It’s hard to comprehend how she has no idea what this place is—how she’s stuck in this illusion, thinking they actually mean her well.