Page 81 of Silas

She nods. “I know. I think…I think I do need to talk about it. I just…after something so beautiful as what we just shared, I don’t know if I want to bring up such awful memories. But I just…I’ve never had anyone…care. About me, I mean. I’ve never had anyone to talk to. To tell things to. I’ve just always had to go through everything alone.”

“You’re not alone anymore, honey. I’m here, now. I’ve got you.” I kiss her temple. “You can talk about it. That’s what pillow talk is for, I guess.”

She’s quiet for a while.

“He just…took. He was never gentle. I know he knew I was a virgin, but he just…I had no choice. Papa would’ve…he would’ve beaten me if I’d said no. Or if I’d resisted at all. Or Jerry would have. He DID. That night, our wedding night, he told me my father had assured him I would be obedient. He…he asked if that was true. I was so scared that I couldn’t answer right away, and he hit me so hard it spun me around. He…he forced me to my knees, and he…he put his…” She shudders at the memory, tears leaking. “He put his thing in my mouth. He was dirty. Like, he stank. I don’t mean to be gross, but it tasted…” She shakes her head. “Vile. He was vile. That was our wedding night.”

“Jesus,” I breathe. “What the fuck?”

“I was his possession. His toy. His servant and slave. I took care of his kids. I cooked all his meals. If things weren’t done exactly how he wanted, when he wanted, he would beat me. Sometimes just a slap, other times worse. I was expected to be ready to…service him every night at nine. I was to take off my clothes and sit on his bed and wait. He would show up, and do what he wanted. There was…he never even pretended to care about me. He would make me bend over the bed and he’d…do what he wanted. The only good thing I can say is he never took very long. He never touched me gently. Never kissed me, never held me. He just…used me. And then he’d lock me in my room. There was nothing in my room but a bed, a closet with my clothes, and a few books. The windows were barred. I was let out at dawn to start my chores. Feed his kids, teach them their schoolwork, clean the house, start dinner, do the laundry.”

“Naomi…fuck. My god, I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

My blood is boiling. I can’t show her that, though.

“How can you…how can you even stand to look at me? Your father, your…fuck, he wasn’t a husband. Owner is more like it—they all treated you like…shit doesn’t even describe it.”

“My brother was the worst, in some ways. Papa beat me to teach me lessons. Jerry beat me to show me my place and keep me afraid of him. My brother tortured me and beat me just because he could.”

“And yet here you are, the sweetest, kindest human being I’ve ever met. You’re so gentle, Naomi. I don’t understand how you can trust me, how you can stand to let me anywhere near you. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust anyone ever again.”

“Since the moment you picked me up on the side of the road, you’ve been nothing but kind to me, Silas.” She lifts up on her elbow and gazes down at me; her face is lit silver by the moon, her hair a long burnished curtain, her skin glowing, her eyes blazing with a myriad of emotions. “You’ve protected me. You’ve shown me that there’s more to the world than that…thatplaceI was raised in, that not all people, that not allmenare like my father, brother, or Jerry. I trust you because you’ve earned it. I can look at you and touch you and let you touch me because I know you’d never hurt me. You’d do anything and everything to protect me. You make it easy to trust you, Silas. To me, that’s the most precious thing on the planet. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

I’m choking—my throat is clogged with a thick, hard knot that I can’t swallow around. “I don’t fucking deserve you, Naomi. I’ve done so much horrible shit. I’m not a good man. I’m just not.”

“You are. Your past doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever be. I’m not trying to excuse you if you’ve done bad things, Silas. It’s not my place. But in the time I’ve known you, I’ve seen nothing but goodness from you. You ARE good, Silas.” She smooths her fingers over my eyebrow, down my temple and cheekbone, and finally over my lips; the tenderness of her touch makes the hot immovable knot in my throat pulse hotter, harder. “Good and bad, they’re not…they can exist together in the same person. You may have been bad, you may have done bad things but…you were trying to survive. You came from a horrible place, too.” She cups my cheek. “What doIdeserve, Silas?”

“The world,” I answer immediately. “The whole fucking goddamn entire world.”

“And so why wouldyoudeserve anything less?”

Jesus. Fuck me.

“I…” My voice is a hoarse rasp. “I don’t know. I never thought about it like that.”

She kisses the tip of my chin, peppers soft sweet little kisses all along my jaw up to the corner near my earlobe. Seizes my earlobe in her teeth, but ever so gently, just for a moment. Then, she kisses my cheekbone, my temple; I feel her lips flutter over my eyes, and I shut them and feel her kiss my eyes, more delicately than a butterfly settling on a flower.

The hot knot in my throat feels like it’s going to rupture through my esophagus. My eyes burn. My chest has a tight band around it.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to swallow. “Shit, woman,” I whisper, the words grating roughly around the knot, rasping in the air between us. “What are you doing to me?” I screw my eyes shut as tight as they can go, turning my face away from her as salt heat wells, threatens. Shame burns in my chest like acid.

She moves to lay atop me, cradling my face in her hands. “Silas—Silas, look at me.”

I can only shake my head. Clench my eyes shut even harder, trying to will the weakness away, trying to out-stubborn the pathetic tears dammed behind my eyelids.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, kissing my eyes, my nose, my lips, my eyes again. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry—” I hiss, through clenched teeth. “I…fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

I go to grab her, to set her aside so I can escape, but she pinions my wrists in her hands and pins them above my head with shocking strength.

“No,” she says, her voice firm. “No running. Not from me.”

“I can’t.” Anger boils in me, stemming from shame and embarrassment. “Let go, Naomi. Just fucking let go.”

She presses her warm silky naked body to mine, breasts to chest, sex to sex, belly to belly, pinning my wrists over my head—I could easily overpower her, obviously, but I can’t bring myself to use the force that would be necessary, so I allow myself to remain pinned.

I turn my face away. Grit my teeth. Screw my eyes shut. Refuse to breathe. My jaw aches, I’m clenching it so hard.