Free Scars: Book One by Sinden West Page B

and face. She jolted with the shock of it,
and the look on her face was one of disgust. She tried to disguise it, she
tried to look happy. But I could tell.
    “Did
you let that boy do that to you?”
    She
shook her head emphatically.
    “You’re
lying.”
    “I’m
not.”
    I
shook my head at her sadly. “You’re such a lying whore. You need to pay for
your sins.”
    She
looked scared, but I knew it was all an act. I took her out to the garage so we
wouldn’t be heard. I kept drinking all the while otherwise I would have lost my
nerve. She stayed in bed the next morning. Hannah, oblivious to all, just said
Rachel wasn’t feeling well, as she carried on with her cleaning and humming and
singing. God, I love that woman.
    It
ended there. Thank god. And I quietly closed the book and took a step toward
Aaron, placing the book on the table beside his chair.
    “Don’t
you feel sorry for her?” I asked softly.
    “No.”
He didn’t blink.
    “But
he’s hurting her. You must know what that feels like. Someone hurt you, badly
going by those scars–“
    “Stop.
Just stop, Rachel. Or I’ll lock you back up in that bedroom.”  He didn’t appear
angry though, everything about him was calm. Still, I decided not to push him.
    He
got to his feet. “C’mon. We’re going outside.”
    My
eyes widened in alarm. He saw and gave a small grin. “Not to the barn as long
as you behave.”

Chapter Fourteen
    I
was allowed to wear my jacket outside. It hung down to mid-thigh, and it felt
like another small triumph was achieved. Until he perched me on top of a tree
trunk next to the woodpile and connected a handcuff to my wrist. I was locked
to a misshapen part of the tree that jutted out then joined in again. I wasn’t
going anywhere.
    I
watched him as he started to split wood. I half fantasized about taking that
axe and splitting his skull in two. It was a warm in the sun, and soon he shrugged
off his jacket before pulling his top over his head. His skin was golden like
it lived in the sun, or at the very least came from an ancient people who
belonged on the land as if the clay of the earth had leached into their blood
to be proudly displayed in beautiful color. His muscles bunched as he swung the
axe; he was slim but so well formed and cut. The scars on his back stood out
starkly, their twisted tissue forming something like hieroglyphics on his flesh
as if they had a secret to tell.
    I
shook my head, forcing away that notion. There were no secrets here. Everything
was abundantly clear to me. I leaned my head back, enjoying the winter sun on
my face and for a moment I could imagine that I was elsewhere. The sound of his
wood chopping ceasing brought me back to reality.
    The
axe was firmly embedded in the block. I wouldn’t be getting that out anytime
soon. As he started to gather the wood up, I held up my handcuff.
    “Let
me help.” He stopped what he was doing and studied me carefully. “I need some
exercise, let me help.”
    He
stood still for a moment, then walked slowly toward me, fishing the key from a
pocket in his jeans. He picked up my wrist and inserted the key in the lock;
then his hand stilled. “Let me make it clear, Rachel. You run, and you won’t be
happy. Got it?”
    I
nodded my head, and my wrist was released. I gathered the wood in my arms,
happy to have something to do and ignoring the scratches that the wood made on
my skin. When we both had a pile in our arms, we headed inside with me in
front. I imagined turning with a piece of wood in hand and whacking him over
his head with it. I couldn’t see him not being prepared though; it wouldn’t end
well for me. I heard the door lock behind me as I headed into the living room
and dumped my pile of wood into the basket beside the fire. He followed suit, then
stoked up the fire so it would burn for a long while.
    I
sat on the couch while he did that. His top was back on now, covering those
terrible scars. For just a moment, I thought he could pass for someone