At the Tone

Chapter 15

  Harry didn’t make a sound as I relayed that night with Christopher and Louise. He didn’t ask any questions, just listened as I told him about the following morning on the porch steps when Kelly gave me the guitar. It was terrifying to tell him about my past, but addicting at the same time; once I started I couldn’t stop, everything spilled out. How my parents were crack-heads who left me in the dumpsters outside the hospital and how I would have died that day if a nurse hadn’t taken the side door out of the building; the countless families I’d been passed on to, unable to mold myself into a single one. I told him about my college scholarship and how I’d begged for a chance to study abroad, the wish granted after I’d spent countless hours organizing it myself. Then I found myself telling him about the past year, the lack of money and my desperation, all leading up to that horrifying night in the little restaurant where I used to perform.

          My voice broke as I came to the part where The Bastard took me outside and I stopped talking, tears burning in the back of my throat. I’d never spoken of it, I’d buried that night back so far into the depths of my mind I thought I’d never remember it, yet I did. The memory was crystal clear, terrifyingly so.

          “It’s okay, Mia,” Harry reassured, the first words he’d spoken since I started talking. His large hand engulfed my trembling fingers and squeezed them tightly, “you don’t have to keep going.”

          I sniffed to try and withhold the tears. “I-I think I want to,” I whispered, my watery eyes fixed on his hand in my lap. And I did. I told him how he’d humiliated me in the back of his Mercedes, how I’d wept silently as he dominated me and made me his, left his mark. I’d quit school only days later, withdrawing from both Westminster and the college back in the States. I didn’t have the time or motivation anymore, nor did I ever leave my flat unless I was on my way to a man’s home. It was that quick, that horrifically easy for my dreams to fall apart and for everything I’d worked for to slip from my grasp. London and Westminster were my chance to get away, my only escape from the nightmare that chased me throughout my childhood, but I should’ve know it was too good to be true.

          By the time I’d finished, we were pulling into his cobble-stoned driveway, a massive white house that could only be labeled as a mansion to my right. He cut the engine and the silence engulfed us, choking off every attempt at conversation we might’ve made. Had I just ruined the past few days? Had unloading my past on him driven a wedge between us that I hadn’t foreseen? Part of me realized that this wasn’t such a bad thing; the more distant the more safe I was. But the other half was terrified that I’d lost the only man that made me feel like I was worth more than a useless whore.

          Finally he turned to me, his eyes just as dewy as mine, and cupped my chin in his hand. “Mia,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly, “I wish I could undo all of that, every last minute of it, but all I can do is promise that I’ll do my best to make sure you never have to feel that way again.” I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only made it bigger. Every attempt to hold in the tears was to no avail, they fell anyway, sliding down my cheeks in thick droplets to drip from my jaw or settle in the contours of my lips.  “Hush, love, you’re okay,” Harry murmured, swiping a thumb across my cheek to rid it of a fresh tear. My lips trembled and I tried to shake my head, but he held my face firmly in his hands. Didn’t he know I wasn’t okay? That every word I said was bringing me closer and closer to a hospital bed, and potentially my grave? No, he had no idea…

          Suddenly his lips were on mine, a slow, tender kiss that made my stomach twist into knots. His fingers were almost too big for my face, fingertips burrowed in my hair; his tongue took away the salt of my tears and replaced it with his sweet taste, a taste that was so familiar, yet I couldn’t place.