Page 32 of Forbidden Sins

ESTELLA

I t’s after midnight when I hear the sounds of footsteps downstairs, and a few minutes later, a long, low groan that disappears into nothing after a moment.

I haven’t slept. There wasn’t a chance of my falling asleep after I watched them drag Sebastian away. I sat in my room, crying, hands twisting together, waiting to hear the far-off sound of a gunshot.

That sound never came. But now, listening, I feel a faint jolt of hope.

What if Sebastian isn’t dead?

I jump up from where I’ve been sitting frozen on my bed for hours, still in my evening gown, my heels kicked off to the side.

I pad to the door of my bedroom, pausing as I slowly turn the doorknob and open it, listening for any other sounds.

There’s nothing, and I ease my way out of my room, tiptoeing carefully down the hall and to the stairs, hesitating every few steps to make sure that no one is awake to hear me.

If I get caught going to Sebastian’s room, there will be hell to pay—for him more than me, I know that. I feel a pang of guilt at the thought. But I have to know if he’s alive. I have to know if?—

I swallow back the fear, easing my way down the steps. I know where his room is—there’s been more than one night that I’ve lain awake, fantasizing about the possibility of going to him, slipping downstairs exactly as I’m doing now and into his room, kissing him awake as he pulls me into his bed.

That’s not going to happen now. My chest aches at the thought of what I might find—but I have to see him. I have to know what happened.

My fault, I can’t help but think, as I step off the stairs and tiptoe toward his room, the hem of my emerald green gown swishing against the marble.

I was the one who pushed, who tipped us both over the edge, who all but begged him to fuck me.

My cheeks burn hot at the memory. I asked him to fuck me, to come inside of me, to send me back?—

I press my lips together, shame washing over me as I reach his door. Carefully, I turn the knob, finding that it’s not locked. Whoever brought him back didn’t bother with that, then.

Slowly, I nudge it open, careful of any sound or creak. I slip inside, closing the door behind me, and I nearly gasp aloud at what I see.

Sebastian is face-down on his bed, bare-naked, one arm hanging off the mattress with his face turned to the side. He’s been beaten bloody—his back looks mostly unharmed, but from what I can see of his sides and arm, and face, he’s covered in bloody cuts and bruises already turning black and purple.

“Sebastian—” I gasp his name, stepping forward—and then my self-control breaks, and I rush toward his bed, dropping down to my knees next to it. “Sebastian?—”

He lets out another long, low groan, and I see that his mouth is swollen. One eye, also swollen, cracks open the slightest bit—and then both of his eyes go wide as he jolts back to consciousness.

“Estella.” He croaks my name in shock, louder than he should, and I press my finger to his lips before I can think better of it. They’re crusted with dried blood, and tears well in my eyes as he flinches back.

“Shh,” I whisper. “Oh my god, Sebastian, you’re alive—” My gaze rakes over him, and my voice trails off. “What did they do to you? What did my father?—”

“Don’t want…” his voice rasps into nothingness. “You to… see me… like this.”

I stare at him, uncomprehending for a moment. “See you like… Sebastian, someone needs to take care of you.” I stand up abruptly, and he stares up at me, still trying to form words through his swollen lips.

“Ruin… your… dress.” His mouth twitches, and I wonder if he’s trying to smile.

“I don’t care about my dress,” I snap. “I care about you, and right now, you look like you’re dying.”

“Would feel better… if… I was.”

“Oh, god.” My hand flies to my mouth, tears welling in my eyes as I drop to my knees next to him again. “This is my fault. I seduced you, I?—”

A sound that might be a chuckle rasps from Sebastian’s throat. “I did… what I wanted… to do,” he manages. “Worth… it.”

“What?” I blink at him through tear-blurred eyes. “It was worth this to kiss me?”

He gives the barest of nods, his soft green eyes meeting mine for a moment before they flutter shut again.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, looking around.

Something needs to be done about this. I very much doubt my father is going to care enough to get him a doctor, and he looks wrecked.

I can’t see very much of the front of him, but I can see the wound on one wrist from what looks like cuffs, raw and bleeding, his arm and side and leg covered in welts and cuts and blackening bruises. Think, Estella.

I get up, hurrying toward the bathroom. There’s got to be a first-aid kit of some kind in there.

It takes a few minutes of digging, but I find one after a moment, pushed to the back of the cabinet beneath the sink.

I grab it, heading back out into the bedroom, and climb onto the bed next to Sebastian.

“This is going to hurt,” I whisper. “But I need to get you onto your back. Help me?” I ask, doubtful whether I can move him if he’s out cold again. I reach out to grip his shoulder experimentally, tugging at him to try to roll him over, and Sebastian lets out a moan of pain.

“Shit,” I mutter, getting off of the bed and circling around to his other side. I brace myself, pushing at his shoulder and upper chest, and Sebastian moans again as he starts to roll over, if only to escape the pressure.

“No—” he groans, just as he flops over onto his back, and I don’t understand why for a moment. My first thought is that it’s because he doesn’t want me to see him naked—and then I take in the sight of him, and I understand that it’s because he didn’t want me to see him naked like this .

The front of his body is a mass of wounds. Nearly every inch of skin is welted, some of it split open, and he’s mottled with bruises all the way down to his knees. My gaze slides between his legs—I can’t help it—and my mouth drops open when I see the mess that’s been made of what lies there.

His cock is swollen in a way that even I, innocent as I am, know has nothing to do with arousal, resting atop the bruised sac of flesh beneath it, mottled with colors that look all wrong and swollen as well, like a ripe fruit about to burst. Tears fill my eyes, dripping down my cheeks as I take in the destruction in front of me, covering every inch of him, and I feel a burning hatred take root in my chest that I’ve never felt before.

I’ve never hated anyone. But I hadn’t realized my father was capable of doing something like this—of hurting someone like this. I’d never imagined it.

Even earlier, when I thought he might kill Sebastian, I thought it would be quick. Not—not this.

Blindly, I fumble for the first-aid kit, unsure of where to even start. Sebastian’s eyes loll open again, and he looks at me in a way that tells me he’s half out of it with pain.

“This is going to hurt,” I whisper, as I find alcohol pads. “It’s going to hurt a lot, and I need…I need you to be quiet if you can. If someone catches me in here?—”

“He won’t… kill… me,” Sebastian mumbles thickly. “Just… beat me… again. Cut off… something… he said.”

I know he’s out of it, or he wouldn’t be telling me all of this. I feel the blood drain from my face as I look at him. “He said that?” I whisper, and Sebastian half-nods, his head lolling towards me.

“You should… go,” he manages, and I shake my head.

“Do you want me to leave because he might hurt you again?” I whisper, and Sebastian forms a word that looks and sounds almost like no .

“Don’t want you… hurt. You shouldn’t see… this.”

“I’m not a child.” I rip open the alcohol pad, looking down at Sebastian. “Do you want something to bite down on? Because this is going to take a while.”

He shakes his head, but it only takes one swipe of the damp pad over open skin for him to grab a handful of his pillow and bite it.

My eyes well with tears as I work my way down his body, the bed littered with the packets as I laboriously clean every wound I can find, except for the swollen mass between his legs.

I don’t dare touch him there. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt, and I’m terrified of making it worse.

“Need—shower—” Sebastian manages, pushing himself up on one elbow as he blinks himself forcefully back to consciousness. “Hand me… one of… those.”

I hand him one of the last remaining alcohol pads, and he rips it open, twisting away from me with a groan of pain as he leans down to tend to the cuts across his swollen cock.

I reach for his other hand instinctively, and he grabs it, gripping hard enough as he sucks in hisses of air that I have to bite back a cry.

He lets go of my hand instantly, sagging back against the pillows, his body still twisted away from me. “Shouldn’t… be here,” he manages, and I glare at him.

“Well, I am,” I tell him flatly. “So do you want help getting to the shower or not?”

Sebastian prods at the split in his lip with his tongue, eyeing me. “Stubborn,” he says finally, his swollen mouth twitching ever so slightly, and I nod, still looking right at him.

“I am. And I’m not leaving you until I know there’s nothing else I can do.”

Sebastian hesitates. “Why?” he asks finally, and I lean forward, brushing his matted hair back from his face.

“This is my fault,” I whisper. “It’s all my fault—if I had left it all alone when you said?—”

“Stop… Estella.” He grabs my hands weakly, but his fingers wrap around mine. “I did… what I wanted to.” He swallows hard, letting go of me as he starts to move toward the edge of the bed.

It’s painful to watch him try to get up. I crawl off the bed, coming to stand next to him as he leans some of his weight on me. I can’t take much of it, but I help him hobble to the bathroom, turning on the hot water for him as he leans heavily against the wall.

“I didn’t want you to… see me like this,” Sebastian murmurs. “Not what I wanted if you… saw me naked.”