I’d seen a tree once with an indent running all the way around the trunk. Something had been there and the tree had grown around it, damaged but still alive. That was me. I was as healthy as I could be all on my own. As for the Bureau, I’d see one of their psychologists to get cleared for duty, but I wasn’t going to bare my soul. I had a meeting with Brody today. I wondered if he’d give me the results of the psych exam. There were mandatory minimums for things like this, but as long as no red flags came up in the therapy sessions, Brody would have to reinstate me. I just had to wait them out, and with Hennessey in my home, it was no hardship.
Water rushed in a soothing rhythm. His golden skin would glisten. His hands would roam over himself, soapy and brisk. He would clean that lovely cock, wash our scent from the roll of skin. I wanted to taste him freshly washed. To feel the satiny head of his cock against my tongue, tasteless and wet. It would be a morning gift to him and to myself. I pressed my face against his pillow and breathed in deep. Musk. Man. And so familiar. Only one night and I could scent him like an animal. Like a mate.
I slipped from the bed, feeling twinges from my body. I felt deliciously sore, aching in the places well-used and throbbing for more in another. I padded across the thin carpet to the bathroom door and stopped.
Humming.
That was what I noticed first, the humming from inside. I thought it was sweet and endearing. Then why did my blood chill? But it did. I tried to place the song but my mind eluded me, running away before I could be sure. You don’t want to know, it promised. But too late, too late I realized what it was. The haunting refrains of La Bohème. A chill raced over my bare skin.
I stood outside the door clutching my stomach. It had to be a coincidence. A famous classical opera with iconic music. Anyone could know the piece. Anyone could hum in the shower, without realizing it would trigger hateful memories. Though did I really hate what had happened to me? Or did I just think that was the right response? Always pretending, always lying, so much I hardly knew which way was up.
Remembrance sliced through my wounds. The pain of the whip. The humiliation of being fucked with leather and with glass.
The hopelessness of being captive to a stranger.
Except he hadn’t been a stranger, had he? A laugh escaped me, and it sounded maniacal. Last night, Hennessey had flicked at my clit in time with the music. It had soothed me, so much warmer than when the leather flogger had done the same. Except how had Hennessey known to do it? He’d kissed the soles of my feet, except they’d had no bruises in the hospital. I’d never shared that detail in the debriefings afterward. So how had he known I’d been hurt there?
Because he is Carlos.
No. That’s crazy. You’re crazy, I told myself. But the truth of the statement remained. I knew it because he sang La Bohème in the shower. I knew it because he made love to me with his mouth the same way he’d once done with leather. And most of all, I knew it because I recognized the darkness in him. I’d always feared that part of him, from that first interview in prison when I’d suspected Hennessey was capable of worse things than I knew. Had I known all along? Had I suspected?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew now. I felt scared, suddenly. I felt cold, deep inside. I felt as hollow as a drum, and he just beat and beat and beat me.
The room closed in on me, shrinking. I dressed quickly. Easy, considering all I had were my heels and a trench coat. My hair and face were a mess, but I couldn’t care about that. Outside the hotel room door, I walked quickly to my car, half expecting Hennessey to come running out, demanding to know where I was going. Or would it be Carlos who emerged from the shower, ready to take over where the kinder man had left off? Dr. Jekyll. Mr. Hyde. They could both go fuck themselves.
At home, I ran straight to the bathroom and threw up. There wasn’t much in my stomach, thank God. Foamy residue floated on top of the toilet water. My stomach heaved again, and I gagged, open-mouthed and dry over the seat. I slumped against the wall with my eyes closed.
My mouth was dry and acidic, but I could still taste the fear. Harsh. Bitter. A sickening sense of inevitability sank in my stomach. It was like I’d always been reaching toward this moment. As if I’d always end up here, facing the same dilemma that had haunted me my whole life.
Should I tell on my father? Which was more important, the lives of strangers or the life of the only person in the world who gave a shit about me? Selfish. I’d been selfish and at eight years old, maybe that was excusable. And now? The same choice. Carlos deserved to be behind bars. He deserved the death penalty, not only for punishment of past deeds, but to protect any people he might hurt in the future. But Hennessey was the only man I’d ever wanted a future with. The only man who might see me, underneath the hopeful fa?ade and to the darkness beneath, and still want me.
I could hear the clock ticking down the minutes in my head, a barely breathing time bomb. I’d have to decide soon. My meeting with Brody was today. That was the time to tell him. I couldn’t wait and see Hennessey again. My expression would give me away, and then he’d have to…what? Would he kill me for figuring out his secret? He’d have to, to keep himself safe. It would be self-defense for him.