Sunday, March 10 – 7:00 AM
Maria
I wake up with a splitting headache and I feel sticky, sweaty and gross. Owen is still asleep beside me with his arm wrapped comfortingly around me. He looks so peaceful that I don’t want to wake him up, but I really need to get away.
I slip carefully out from under his arm, and I sigh in relief as, miraculously, he doesn’t wake up. He rolls in his sleep and snores into the pile of pillows while I tiptoe to my dresser for clean clothes and a towel.
The bathroom is just across the hall from my room, and my headache slowly diminishes as the white noise of the shower blocks out the rest of the world. The bathroom fills with steam as I stand under the hot water and wait for my thoughts to make sense.
“He’s still here!” I whisper to myself as the burning water pours down over my head. “Owen’s still here!”
I was scared that I’d wake up and he’d be gone. He knows what happened to me now, and he’s still here. He didn’t let go when I flipped out on him and stayed with me all night while I cried. He held me and ran his hands through my hair until I finally fell asleep. I’ve never felt more grateful or more ashamed of myself before.
Would I have been there for him if instead he had needed me? I can’t imagine myself doing what he did, being there for him as he was for me. I’m too scared and broken for that.
No... I did do that for him! I stayed with him after he broke his hand.
I still don’t know what he sees in me, though.
The hot water runs out eventually, forcing me to get out of the shower and face the day. The bathroom is so steamy that the walls are dripping as I change into my soft, green pajama pants and a tee shirt.
Owen is still asleep when I tiptoe back into the room, and I can’t help but smile at how cute he looks. He rolls over in his sleep, and I snuggle up behind him and kiss him softly on the neck. He stirs as I keep kissing higher and higher up his neck, up his cheek, and then gently bite his ear.
That finally wakes him up, and he groans and stretches his arms.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
He grunts unintelligibly, still caught up in his morning stretch. God, he’s so adorable!
“Good morning, Maria,” he finally mumbles. His eyes are half-shut with sleep, but his smile is certainly awake now. “How’d you sleep?”
“Not too bad once I finally fell asleep, at least,” I answer, cuddling up close to him and putting my arms around him. “How about you?”
“I’m okay. Just a little sleepy.”
“Thanks again,” I whisper, and he rolls over to face me and kisses me softly on the tip of my nose.
“For what?”
“For not giving up on me even though I keep flipping out on you,” I whisper. I lean my head against his chest and close my eyes, listening to his slow, soothing heartbeat. Why can’t I always feel this relaxed?
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he tells me quietly, and I shake my head.
“Yes I do. I don’t deserve...”
“Oh don’t you start this again,” he interrupts. “I don’t deserve you.”
I stare at him in exasperation and his face mirrors mine perfectly.
“So if neither of us deserves the other, what happens then?” I whisper to him.
He winks and kisses me softly. A delightful shiver runs through my body as his lips brush gently against mine. I lean into him as I pull him close to me, pressing his lips into mine, dragging my teeth softly along his lower lip before releasing it. His tongue finds mine as it slowly explores, and I feel a euphoric haze starting to form in my mind. I’m in Heaven.
“If neither of us deserves the other, I vote that it all cancels out and we’re back to deserving again,” he answers with a grin, and I giggle and kiss him once more.
I can’t get over how amazing it feels to kiss him. It’s like all the best, most relaxing parts of having a little too much to drink, but with flying added to the deal. It’s all I can do not to laugh from sheer joy as our passionate kiss ends and we come up for air. I feel like I’m soaring high above the ground.
“Do you want to talk about anything from last night?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I don’t know why the memories keep coming back or why I can’t get rid of them, but what I need most is time and patience.”
“You don’t even have to ask for those,” he whispers back. “They’re all yours.
I squeeze him as tightly as I can. God, I love him so much.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he continues quietly. “If you’re willing to stick by me and put up with my problems, I’m sticking by you.”
“I’m not going anywhere either,” I whisper breathlessly, and I lean in to kiss him again. This time, it’s a slow, soft, romantic kiss. I want so badly to be in his arms and to feel his warmth that it almost hurts. Our tongues seek out each other as our lips play together, and he holds me close to him as I touch his chest.
“Owen... can I... well... oh, never mind,” I stammer, losing my words. I’m too embarrassed to ask what’s on my mind.
“What is it? You can ask me anything,” he whispers back. I lay my head on his chest before speaking again.
“I want to explore you, too,” I whisper, running one hand gently down to the hem of his shirt. “Can I...”
I shake my head as I lose my nerve again. I want to see his scars, and I don’t know how to say it.
As if he already knows what I wish I could ask, he smiles, sits up, and pulls his shirt off before lying back down beside me. His chest feels soft and smooth as I run my hands over it, but countless white scars—each one a terrible memory—pattern his skin.
“Only for you,” he tells me anxiously. “I hate the way it looks.”
He looks so uncomfortable to bare his chest that I grab the comforter and wrap it around us. Now he’s safe. Nobody can see him but me, and I love him too much ever to hurt him.
“Most of them are just from the usual beatings... you know, whatever he had in his hand at the time,” he whispers.
“This big one here is from where he threw a plate at me,” he says, pointing at a long, straight scar with a white center and a dark outline. His voice wavers so much that I worry he’s going to break down telling me. “It cut me when it broke.”
I gasp and cover my mouth in horror as he traces the long, painful-looking scar with one shaky finger. Why am I doing this to him? Why am I making him relive all the nightmares just for me?
“I’m so sorry, honey,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I brought this up. I just wanted...”
He interrupts me with a firm but gentle kiss.
“No, ask me anything you want. You need to know about my secrets too,” he quietly tells me. His voice is weak and frail, as if he’s ashamed of himself. I wish I could pull all the horrible memories out of him and hide them somewhere far away, where he’d never have to relive any of the misery.
“Owen, I want you to lay down, okay?”
He nods and then lies back on the bed as I pull the comforter over him, and then I duck out of sight beneath the blanket.
“What are you doing?” he asks, but I don’t answer. He’ll understand soon enough.
My lips brush against his soft skin as I kiss the lowest scar I can see on his torso, and I slowly work my way up his body. I can’t possibly get all of them—there’s just too many—but I’m going to kiss every scar I can.
He sucks in a breath as he suddenly realizes what I’m doing, and I feel him tremble beneath me.
The long, jagged lines, the small, white dots, the strange, impossible-looking shapes that can’t possibly be accidental... they’re all part of the boy I love, and he needs to know that I love them too. He found a way out of Hell, fell in love with a mess like me, and I can’t imagine being without him now.
He shivers as my lips flit across a long brown scar and I smile, happy that I can make him feel good. Maybe he can do what I can’t and teach himself to remember good things when he thinks about his scars. If all I could ever give him was the memory of this morning—of me kissing him and all his imperfections—it’d still be the best thing I’d ever done.
I pop up from beneath the blanket and kiss his lips as I hold him in my arms. His eyes are wide with wonder and he kisses me back like I’m the most special person in the world. I want to curl up next to him forever and never have to remember anything bad ever again.
I run my hands slowly down his back and then stop as I feel the ridge of a scar beneath my fingers.
“What’s this one from?” I ask, tracing it along his back with one finger. It feels like it goes on forever.
“I accidentally broke the broom when I was sixteen,” he answers. “It was behind the car, and I ran over it when I backed it out of the garage. Dad beat me with the broken end of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, touching the painful memory with the tips of my fingers.
“That’s just the top one,” he whispers, and he kisses me softly.
I run my hands further down his back. Five... six... seven... God, how many times did his father hit him?
“You’re lucky to be alive, Owen...”
“I’d give Samantha some of that luck if I could.”
I have to pull him out of that memory in a hurry, and I lean in and press my lips to his as I hold him close. I can’t give him back his sister. All I can give him is me.
He draws me in to him, pressing his body against mine as he kisses me back. The kiss starts out soft and slow, but it quickly ignites with a passion that takes my breath away.
“I want to try again,” I whisper. “Like last night.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod silently and gently kiss him.
“Tell me when to stop,” he whispers in my ear, still holding me tightly against him.
I feel so warm and safe in his arms that I never want him to let go. His lips find mine again as my mind starts to get hazy. I love the way this feels, the way my mind wanders off into a pleasant fog when he kisses me, and I let my body take the lead. It knows what it wants better than I do anyway.
I moan softly as he runs a ticklish finger down my cheek, down my neck, and then even further down my sides until he reaches my hips. His touch feels incredible and my skin starts to burn. My body is alive with desire now and my heart races in excitement.
Owen rolls me on my side and lies behind me, still holding me close as he runs his hands from my hips up to my breasts. My body writhes against him of its own will, and suddenly I can’t seem to catch my breath. Each one comes as a short, frantic gasp as his touch sets my body on fire.
As amazing as his touch feels, I’m still scared. It feels so good, but I know that any moment now, all the nightmares are going to come back to haunt me. My body is going to remember what happened when I last felt this good, and then my memories will betray me.
“You still doing okay?” he whispers in my ear.
I’m grateful to hear his voice because it drags me out of the darkness and pulls me back to his side. I lean over my shoulder to kiss him, and I clasp my hands gently around his and guide them slowly down my body.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg, my voice trembling almost as much as the rest of me.
I close my eyes and try not to shake as I feel his fingers fumbling with the waist-string of my pajamas, untying it, slipping underneath the fabric and touching my legs. An intense, amazing feeling shoots through my body, bounces around inside my chest, and then escapes through my lips in an ecstatic moan as he finally touches me.
I can feel the connections forming in my mind as if I’m trapped in slow motion. Intense, almost agonizing pleasures build up inside me. Every nerve in my body burns with delight, but the darkness is growing. Any second now, I’m going back into my nightmare. I know it’s coming—I can feel Darren hiding somewhere inside me, just waiting to grab me and drag me down into the darkness again.
“You’re lying in bed with me,” Owen suddenly whispers in my ear, dragging me away from my fears and back to his side once again.
A bolt of unbelievable, electric pleasure arcs through my body, and I cry out as I writhe against him and clutch at the frame of the bed with one hand. I don’t know how my other hand got up there, but it’s tugging at his hair as his fingers slowly massage me from the inside and drive me into a burning frenzy. I’ve never felt this good in my life!
“You’re in your own bed,” he whispers, keeping the same slow rhythm with his fingers the entire time. “You’re safe, and you’re with someone who loves you.”
Every time my mind is about to drop into the darkness, his voice pulls me right back out and keeps me in the moment with him. Every touch—each incredible stroke—drives me closer and closer to the edge, and my clothes cling to me from sweat as I shake in his arms.
I shut my eyes as the indescribable feelings surge up inside me, but all I see is Owen’s smile and beautiful gray eyes in my mind.
“You’re safe with me,” he whispers. “Let yourself go. I’m here to catch you.”
I freeze up in his arms and my voice catches in my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t scream. I can’t do anything but shake in beautiful agony as the incredible feelings crash down on top of me. A high-pitched cross between a gasp and a whimper finally breaks free of my chest. Every muscle in my body feels like it’s contracting as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure washes over me.
I’m back in my bed again a few seconds later with Owen’s arms wrapped tightly around me.
“Maria? Are you okay?” he asks in concern, holding me close as I start to cry.
“I’m okay,” I manage to get out in between sobs. “Really. I’m okay.”
How do I explain to him that I’m crying from happiness? I’m crying because I’m overjoyed that terror never came. I don’t know how to tell Owen that he kept me here by his side the whole time—lifted me out of the darkness—and now I finally have a memory that Darren can’t take away from me.
This moment belongs to Owen and me.