Page 39 of Ever After

I smooth the worry line with my finger. “Yes, unless you don’t think you can handle it.”

She looks down, away from me. “I’ll be okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

She climbs off me, and I direct her to the en suite bathroom. I turn the water on in the shower, and when it’s warm, I help her step under the spray.

“I’m going to get you a towel and some clothes. When you’re done, come downstairs and we can have some breakfast together.”

She nods, and I close the curtain behind her.

I pull on my boxers and jeans but leave the shirt in the room. When I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, I find Winston is standing by the window, drinking coffee. I pour myself a cup and dig through the cabinets, looking for anything for breakfast.

“How’s she doing this morning?” Winston is casually leaning against the wall, sipping his coffee.

“Pretty fucked up. She’s going to need some therapy after this. Winston, what the fuck were you thinking, doing that? It went against the plan. We all could have been caught.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, I know. I also know how much you care for her, and I didn’t want to leave her there longer than we had to. Did your partner see anything?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. She told me, according to the blueprints, there’s no basement.Temptresswas only busted for prostitution. They didn’t find the other girls.”

He pounds the wall with his fist. “Damn it. I told them when I called to have someone go downstairs and check. Why the fuck didn’t they listen?”

“I don’t know. You know they’re moving those girls, though. I need to stay Chase Biggs a bit longer so Mr. E can lead me to the new location.”

He perks up. “Mr. E? You have a partial name?”

I scoff. “Hardly. I don’t even think that’s his real name. I need to ask Finley if she has any idea who he is. The man looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

I look at the clock; Finley’s been in the shower for a while now. “I’m gonna check on her. I figured she would have been down by now.”

I take the steps two at a time, and the shower is still running when I get up there. I knock on the door, and when she doesn’t answer, I push it open. “Finley? Are you doing all right?”

There’s no steam coming from the shower. I pull back the curtain and find her curled up in a small ball in the corner, shivering. I turn the water off and grab her towel, but she doesn’t bother to look at me. I drape the towel over her shoulders.

“Can I help you stand?”

No response. Streams of water fall from the ends of her hair, creating small rivers that run down her arms and back.

“Finley?”

Nothing. I need her to respond to me, and I try the only thing I can think of.

“Answer me!” I bellow at her.

She looks up at me with sad, distant, gray eyes but still says nothing.

Finley

I’m free. Grayson saved me.So why do I still feel like Master—no, Chris is still here? I feel his eyes and hands all over me. I reach for the face cloth and lather it up with soap. I scrub my body until it’s red, and I finally feel like he’s not crawling along my skin. Then, I sit down and pull my legs to my chest, waiting.

I’ve been sitting in the corner of this shower, alone, for the better part of fifteen minutes. The spray has become cold, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. If I did something wrong—or if he just felt like it—I’d be put under the cold water and made to stay there until he came to get me. It’s almost soothing now. So, I stay here, getting lost in my head.

I’m free, but I’m not. My body craves release all the time, and it shouldn’t. It’s so messed up. From my years of training, I know this is when I need to talk with someone. This is the time when I need to seek out help, but that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t need some shrink telling me how everything is fine now, and I don’t have to worry anymore.

When things go back to normal and I can finally return to work, I’ll never say anything along those lines to my patients again. The rational side of my brain understands I’m not there anymore, but the rest of me hasn’t caught up.

I hear a faint knock on the door, but I don’t bother to look up, too caught up in my own thoughts.

“Finley? Are you doing all right?”