Blaze Davis is the girl in the shadows. The one no one notices but if given a chance, could light up your world with a personality as unique as the scars adorning her body like damaged armour. She has secrets no one knows and hidden beneath that mas...
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❃ B l a z e ❃
t. w: graphic mentions of rape
(please skip if you're uncomfortable to the first line breaker)
"I was raped." Dry agony pulsated through my veins, my throat collapsing in on itself. Jagged rocks grew inside my lungs, tearing apart the skin and drawing blood.
Raped. I was raped.
The brittle truth felt all the more shattering and I dropped my gaze to the thick carpet. My toes curled in horror inside my socks, nerves firing in my body.
"Are you comfortable talking about this?" Dr. Lincoln murmured, her lips thin with sympathy and shock. I simply nodded, twisting my clammy fingers nervously.
"And are you comfortable with me asking questions?" I nodded in response once again. The more I delayed it, the less likely I was of ever acknowledging it.
"When did this happen?" The gentle prompt made me sink further into the couch and I shuttered my eyes. A sudden bout of exhaustion crept across my body and I propped my head on the pillow.
I mulled over her question in my head. Time was fluid and viscous during that period in my life, each day overlapping with pain, blurred together by the abuse. It felt from an entirely different life altogether.
"Seven months ago."
"Did you get a rape kit done?" I jerked at her question, embarrassment and worthlessness tiding through my veins.
"I... I didn't. I couldn't get off the bed." Tears trekked down my cheeks, salt scorching my tastebuds. Numbness battled with agony for dominance, swirling deep in my gut.
"I couldn't move, not before, during or after," I curled my knees up, my veins ebbing with pain. Questions circled my head like vultures, preying on my thoughts.
Why didn't I stop him? Why didn't I fight back?
Why? Why? Why?
Emotions flickered on Dr. Lincoln's face, indecipherable and fleeting.
"I told him to stop. I said no, why didn't he listen? I said it so many times." My throat ached like it had that day, hoarse from refusal and feeble attempts to voice my denial. From my innocence to my soul, everything felt tainted by Aiden's hands.
My skin felt gnawed to the bone, phantom memories bristling like the fine hairs on my arm. The scorching pain between my thighs, the blood on the inside of my mouth from silencing my cries, the pain of my nails embedding deep into my palm.
"You didn't do anything to deserve that. Nothing at all," Dr. Lincoln extended her tissue box and I accepted it sullenly.
"I said no." No. The word echoed in my head, losing it's meaning with each loop. Was that how Aiden had felt, stripping the word of it's power after hearing it so many times?
