Ro slammed the bathhouse door shut and was relieved to find it empty. No one needed to see tears streaming down her face. The indignity might be more than she could bear. She dropped onto the bench and started to wipe the tears away, but the fabric of the bandanas against her face distracted her from the mess of roiling emotions. She grabbed one corner with her teeth and awkwardly untied the knot. She gingerly unwrapped the fabric from her left wrist. The tears that came next were a direct result of the broken and oozing skin peeling away with the cotton. Holy balls that hurt. The ropes had gouged trenches into her wrist. She bit her lip as she repeated the process with her right wrist. It was going to hurt like hell to wash them, but she couldn’t risk infection. The first aid kit in the red and white metal box attached to the wall would at least have gauze and antibiotic ointment, so she’d be able to wrap them up afterward. She might look like she’d botched a suicide attempt, but it was better than the alternative.
Ro worked quickly, washing her hair and cleaning her injuries under the warm spray. She attempted to remove the remaining jute fibers, but it was a losing proposition. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she scrubbed. Trying to distract herself, she let her mind wander. The first place it went was to the words Graham had spoken. What was she supposed to do with that? Was he telling her what she’d lost, or was he saying he still wanted her? And what about Zach? He hadn’t been moody or brooding like Graham, but had seemed to welcome her back with open arms. How was he not crazy pissed too?
Ro shut off the water and blindly reached for her towel.
“Here you go, babe,” a voice said as a towel was pressed into her grasping hand.
Ro slapped a palm over her chest, as if holding in her scream. He hadn’t thought she’d heard him come in, and he was right.
“What the hell! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you? Jesus, Zach.”
“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine. Just needed to clean up.” Zach tried not to stare as she rubbed herself down with efficient strokes. She wrapped the towel around her torso and tucked the corner between her breasts. Before he could enjoy her cleavage, his attention snagged on the ugly red marks ringing her wrists. He pulled her hands away from her body.
“What the fuck did they do to you?” he said, flipping her palms up and surveying the lacerations. Ro’s hands shook slightly when she answered.
“They didn’t want to take the chance that I’d run off. So they made sure I couldn’t.”
Zach thought back to the gut-wrenching minutes they’d sat in the cornfield. They’d spotted the trio turning down the dirt road, so they’d headed into the rows to try to gain a tactical advantage and flank them. He knew she'd been tied to the man in the lead, but through his binoculars he'd seen the bandanas beneath the rope and figured they would have blunted any rope burn, but they must have come after the damage had already been done. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each palm. When he looked up at Ro, her expression was teary and confused.
Her words were barely audible when she asked, “Why are you being so nice to me? Why aren’t you pissed?”
Zach knew he should’ve anticipated the question, and now he had to decide if he was going to answer her honestly or give her some bullshit reason. He looked at the dripping curls falling over her slumped shoulders. He couldn’t help but draw her into his arms, the water droplets still clinging to her skin, her hair soaking his shirt. Zach backed up to the bench and sat, pulling her down and positioning her across his lap.
Zach kissed her forehead. “Sweetheart, I’m not pissed. I’m proud of what you did.” Her brow furrowed, and Zach could almost picture a conversation bubble appearing in the vicinity of her head that said, ‘What the fuck?’
“That’s not to say I wasn’t scared shitless for you and didn’t want to spank your ass for putting yourself in danger.”
“But ...”
“We’ve all got our stories, Ro, and one thing that Graham and I have always had in common is that ours aren’t the prettiest.” Zach took a deep breath, psyching himself up to lay it all out there. “I’m from a small town in Kentucky. My old man was a mean drunk who liked to beat on my mom, and then when I got big enough to stop him, he turned on me. I guess it was more sporting, because I wasn’t afraid to fight back. No matter how hard I begged her to leave him, she wouldn’t do it. She was too damn worried about what her church friends and the neighbors would think.”
“Oh, God. Zach …” Ro’s arms snaked around him and squeezed. Zach dropped another kiss on the top of her head.
“I didn’t care that he took it out on me; it was better than having him hit Mom. The day after I graduated, she told me to get in the car, and she drove us straight to the Marine Corps recruiting office. My old man wouldn’t hear of me going to college, because that was for pussies and rich kids. He expected me to go work in the factory, just like him. But Mom wasn’t having that, and unbeknownst to me, she’d been talking to the local recruiter since I took the ASVAB in school. She must have told him enough of what was happening, because once it was clear that I was interested, he made things happen. Two days later, I was on a bus to Parris Island for boot camp. I knew the old man would hit the roof when he realized I was gone. He worked third shift, so he wouldn’t figure it out until the weekend when he went looking for a punching bag. I tried to get her to pack her bags and go to stay with my grandma, a friend, or anyone, but she wouldn’t do it. Said everything would be fine, and it was her duty to stay with her husband. I was too young and excited to be getting out of that hellhole to realize she was just paralyzed by fear.”