The Bruises
MARY’S POV:
But my heart didn’t remember.
My heart was somewhere else and in a place he couldn’t reach.
I tried to push him away again, my hands against his chest, but he didn’t move. He was too strong, too determined and too convinced that this would fix everything.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please stop. You’re hurting me.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”
“Alistair-”
“Just relax and trust me. You used to trust me.”
I closed my eyes.
I thought about Elowen. About the way she had asked if Marl could be her father. About the way she had said she didn’t want to see me sad anymore. I thought about the life I wanted for her, a life where she didn’t have to ask permission to be loved. A life where she didn’t have to watch her mother break apart piece by piece.
Then I felt his hands freeze and his body went still against mine. His breathing stopped, just for a moment, the air catching in his throat which prompted me to opened my eyes.
He was staring down at my body. At the bruises.
They were scattered across my skin like dark flowers, purple and blue and yellow, the marks left by the inmates who had beaten me while I was in detention. I had forgotten about them. I had been trying to forget about them. But there they were, impossible to hide, undeniable evidence of everything I had been through.


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