Self-loathing slithers through the cracks, a dark cloud forcing all the oxygen from my lungs, a storm making it hard to breathe. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. I’m going to be a mother in a few months. How will I teach my children to be responsible and make good choices when I can’t do it myself? The thought terrifies me. It spreads ice through my bones, squeezing my stomach, tearing at my insides with the teeth of barbed wire. It leaves me gasping for air, the bitter taste of fear on my tongue.
The water starts to warm, my wet clothes clinging to my body like the humiliation sticks to my soul. The ache between my legs reminds me of how weak and stupid I am. I made a fool of myself, and no matter how scalding the water is, it doesn’t rinse off the shame.
I’m that girl again. The one who walked into this house for the first time, insecure, lost, and alone. The woman who felt scared and intimidated by a man who would become her husband. A stranger. A man who would ultimately take her heart and make it his and own her in every way.
All I’ve ever wanted was to know peace—to wake up every morning as blissfully happy as I was when I fell asleep. I might be the stray he picked up off the streets who somehow managed to survive a dark childhood. But I’m still just a girl who dreams of love and a happy ending. And I was so sure I had found that with Alexius, but I was wrong. So wrong.
I fall to my knees, water cascading down my face as I sob into my palms. Steam builds up around me, and I’m left to drown in my pain. I just want it to stop. I want to stop hurting. I want to stop feeling like I’m mourning. Like I got someone taken away from me. Someone who holds my soul in the palms of his hands.
Someone who says he loves me, yet his actions speak otherwise.
Someone who says he can’t bear to lose me, yet everything he does pushes me away.
Someone who can mend and break my heart at the same time.
Someone I love so much, it’s happiness and agony all at once.
Alexius.
I clutch my stomach, my cries hacking out of my chest. Every bone is being broken repeatedly, and I can’t stop it. I’m being cracked wide open, bleeding fucking tears, and it only worsens with each passing second.
“Please make it stop!” I scream, crippled with agony, water pelting down. I can’t breathe. There’s too much pain weighing on my chest. “Please stop!”
“Leandra!”
“Make it stop!”
Arms wrap around me, and I choke on a breath when I’m clutched tightly. “What the hell is going on?”
I open my eyes and look up into soft, familiar brown eyes. “Isaia,” I cry.
“Jesus Christ, Leandra.” He wipes wet hair from my face, rocking me back and forth. “What did he do, huh? What the fuck did my brother do?”
New sobs erupt as if my wounds are torn open and clawed at. “Help me,” I plead, folding myself into him. “Make it stop, please.”
“I got you.” He cups my cheek, tightening his hold around me. “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”
“I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
“Just breathe.” He rests his chin on my head. “Deep breaths.”
“I love him so much, Isaia.”
“I know you do.”
“And I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Motherfucker doesn’t deserve you,” he mutters, his gaze following the trail his finger leaves on my cheek. “You’re too good for my brother.”
I bury my face in his chest, his shirt soaked, both of us flat on our asses in the running shower. It’s comforting having his arms around me, but somehow it only makes me cry more. It’s as if his being here, holding me, consoling me, is permitting me to be sad—giving me approval so I can acknowledge that I’m broken and allowed to weep.
I have no idea how long we sit there or when I stopped crying, but my entire life feels surreal as Isaia picks me up, helping me out of the shower. Everything is hazy. It’s as if my mind decided to shut down, silencing my thoughts. Paralyzing me.
“Here. You need to dry yourself off before you freeze.” Isaia holds out a towel, but I don’t have the strength to take it. I’m exhausted, like I just lived a thousand lifetimes in an hour.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Let me help you.” He reaches for the hem of my shirt, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nod because I have no choice but to accept his help. I’m useless on my own, a complete fucking mess, and I’d probably stand here freezing to death without knowing it’s happening.
Isaia moves closer, easing my wet shirt up my waist, and I lift my arms so he can ease it off and over my head. He throws my shirt in the hamper, and I don’t care that I’m standing half naked in front of him. I’m too numb to care.