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"It took me less than a day to realize that there's no more me without you," he leans forward, closing the distance between us, "no Vlad without Sisi," he whispers, his breath on my cheek, "but I was too damn terrified of my own self and what I could have done to you."

I'm lost in his eyes. His words have never been softer, or more imbued with emotion than now. Even knowing hecannotfeel, there's so much feeling.

And I waver.

"Fuck, Sisi." He lowers his forehead, resting it on my shoulder.

I hold myself still, his ragged breaths only making my heart beat faster.

"I was so careful," he whispers, "I wanted to give you a perfect first time," he says, surprising me once more.

I just listen, knowing this is a rare moment for him.

"I was so careful tonotcause you any pain. And what did I do?" He gives a bitter laugh. "I took your virginity like a fucking beast. I…" he trails off, a low sound escaping his lips. "I don't think I can ever forgive myself for the hurt I caused you."

"Vlad…" I trail off.

"Even knowing that, I can't help myself. I know it's a lot to ask, but I can only promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make amends. Just please, give me another chance."

I don't know how to answer. I'm simply speechless as I hold on to him, blinking away tears and trying to stop my feelings from clouding my judgement. Because the truth is that I still love him.

I never stopped.

And his words right now are like a balm to my battered heart.

But how much can I believe?

"I don't know how," I answer truthfully, my voice soft and even. "I don't know how, Vlad," I repeat, raising my hand to wipe a tear from my eye. "You know I grew up at Sacre Coeur," I start, trembling slightly as the memories come back.

He draws back a little, his eyes still on me as he waits for me to continue.

"It wasn't pleasant," I admit,notpleasant being an understatement. "I was an outcast, doing my best to survive. Honestly, I was just a child looking for someone to love me, but instead I only found hate."

I gather my hands in my lap, clenching them together as I recall the abuse I'd endured for years on end.

"But my time there made me who I am today. It gave me my fearsandmy dreams. And because of that, I don't know how to continue with this. I don't knowhowto forgive you," I whisper, wiping more tears from my eyes.

Without giving it a second thought, I stand up, my shaking hands on the fastening of my dress. His eyes look anguished as he gazes at me, his entire body stiff, as if he doesn't dare make a wrong move.

Before I lose the courage, I drop my dress to the floor, remaining only in my underwear. I need to show him the truth—make him understandwhy.

"I was five when I got this scar." I point to an ugly line running across my elbow. "I was running away from some kids who were calling me cursed and," I swallow, the memories still painful, "and the devil's spawn."

"Someone tripped me and I fell. My elbow was split open, and still, they didn't stop. I was lying on the ground, bleeding and crying in pain, and all they could do was laugh at me. Sneer that it was what I deserved because that's what cursed people deserve—pain. The nuns weren't any better. I should have gotten immediate help for my wound, but instead I was punishedfor running around." My breath hitches as I remember that particular punishment.

"I was locked in a dark room for two days. Two days that my elbow hurt like hell, and no one thought to help me, or even inquire about me. Eventually the wound closed by itself, but because it had never been cleaned, it closed with a few pebbles inside. I had multiple bouts of infection until Mother Superior decided that I should finally see a doctor. But even then, do you know what they did?" I ask Vlad's attention wholly on me.

"Mother Superior said I didn't need any anesthetic for when they cut into my skin to remove the pebbles, that they shouldn't waste precious resources on a naughty child."

"Sisi…"

"No, I need to say this." I stop him. "That was the first time I realized thatno onecared if I lived or died. And things just got worse." I bring my hand up to my right breast, where they marked me with the cross. "This," I trace the outline of the scar, "was supposed to be an exorcism. They wanted to make sure the devil got out of me andstayedout of me," I explain, doing my best not to become overwhelmed by the past.

I continue to show him scar after scar. My knees that were busted one too many times, my palms full of abrasions from being hit with wooden sticks until I bled, the small indentations all over my stomach as I was kicked and kicked until I couldn't breathe anymore.

And then I reach for the newer ones.

"And you know how I got these," I say and he flinches, looking as if I'd just slapped him.