Touch. Something every human craved- on a conscious and subconscious level- a base instinct for interaction. But how was I meant to touch, when the very concept had been desecrated and stained in my mind?

I wanted Ripper to touch me so badly, quiet every fear and memory that was at the forefront of my mind every second- but I hated when he touched me too. I hated and was so afraid of their touch, I couldn't stop myself from whimpering and recoiling from outreached hands.

That was something I didn't understand. My ability to have such contrasting emotions- both at the extreme level of the scale. I wanted him to comfort and hold me, but cried whenever he placed a hand on my skin, going as far as to scream at him to leave.

Scream at anyone who came near me.

Seamus, my father, Slater, Deadeye and Bianca were all turned away- locked out of my room like I was my body. I didn't have the key, Greg and his men did. And they had taken it, stomped all over it and thrown it so far away, I didn't even see it fly through the air.

Why was I the one suffering when it was them who had done so much? Why was my family the people suffering when they had saved me?

The universe was shit. And my feelings were even more so.

It had been two weeks, two weeks of me staying in Ripper and my room, all by myself. Of my own volition. And two weeks later, I was still the same. I stood in front of the floor length mirror naked, eyes only on the bruises covering my body like some sort of sick art.

Purple and blue flowers blossoming over my skin.

Remnants of cuts were now almost healed, leaving thin, silvery lines across my thighs and shoulders, where they loved to cut me the most. I wanted someone there so badly, someone to cry with, someone to sob into- but my own mind wouldn't let me. All it saw was fingers with no permission, hot mouths with no censor.

"Corin?" A soft voice said from the other side of my locked door, worried and tired. Bianca. I cleared my throat and picked up a robe, tying it tightly around my waist and sitting on the bed gingerly. My butt still felt sore.

"Yes?" My voice sounded so small, so timid I winced listening to it.

A quiet pause. "Can I come in?"

She asked the same question every day, never once letting my refusals get her down. She stayed at the door like a pillar, filling my silences with mundane talk- letting small moments of happiness in her day become moments in mine too.

A tear slipped out of my eye, following a used course down my face. Would today be different? I wanted it to be different, wanted to feel something other than the horrible emptiness that plagued my mind.

And Bianca was there. She was always there. Just like my Ripper. She would never hurt me, never use me, never push me for more than I was ready to tell or show. Bianca was Bianca, and Bianca was safe.

I padded to the door, hating the way my heartbeat accelerated and my breathing increased. It's just Bianca. It's just Bianca.

And with a deep breath and a prayer to the God above, I opened the door. There was a silence when I opened the door, gasps barely held in as I inched it open, jittery gaze flitting from Bianca's kind face to the floor. Deadeye was here too, but I shut the door as soon as Bianca stepped in, her face crumpling for a moment before hardening into the pillar of strength she knew I needed.

I stood silently for a few long moments, arms folded across my chest tightly.

"How have you been?"

And those four words, those four simple words, unraveled every knot I had tied, leaving me a sea of tears. Through the tears coursing endlessly down my face, I looked into her sad gaze.

"I haven't been great"

___________________

It took a few days to let anyone but Bianca in. She sat through my tears and stayed close to me, near enough to reach out and help if needed, but far enough for me to be comfortable. And she listened to every thought, every moment that I had while I was with those men.

Bianca listened with an immovable face, jaw clenching when I went through a particularly hard part for me to remember. But I needed to remember, needed to purge in order to grow and be...myself again.

But there were moments when even she cried, face breaking as tears flooded over and those moments were the ones where I allowed myself touch, where my mind was too tired to fight it, and I hugged her like touch was an oasis and I had been starved.

And that morning, after she had left, I texted my soulmate.

He came home immediately.

I sat on the bed, calming the anxieties that arose as I heard his bike come into the driveway, door flying open as he stalked to our room. He had been sleeping in the lounge, moving the couch near the door so he could give me an added sense of protection.

Ripper stopped short behind the closed door, breath coming hard, as if he had been running a marathon.

"Love?"

I grit my teeth, feeling the fear before arguing against it. Don't fear the man you love. Don't fear the man who rescued you. Don't fear the man who would kill himself before hurting you.

It didn't completely retract my fear, but it lessened the influence. Allowing my breath to even out a bit more.

I was afraid of him, some miniscule part of me was afraid of any man, but I was also afraid of what he would think of me. Of my stained, tainted body.

I opened the door, stepping back and wringing my hands out. He stood tall and strong like he always did, but with a shadow across his face. His usually bronze skin was now a slight yellow, with bags under his eyes and scruffy stubble.

He was tired and missed me. His golden eyes lighted on me, dark and sad with tormented thoughts.

"I miss you" I murmured, allowing myself the admission but taking another step back. He stayed in the doorway, face softening with a sadness that tore at my heart. "I miss you too Corin."

My fingers twitched and I took a calming breath, closing my eyes for a moment before reaching out and placing my hand on his. He inhaled sharply, giving me a few seconds before curling his fingers around mine.

And then he gave me a smile so yearning and full of longing that I felt my insides crumple, my fears quashed and I threw my arms around him, drawing him in tightly. And I cried- like so many times before.

But this time, it was for both of us. For what had happened to me, what was still happening and for what was hurting him. Because I was hurting him, and I didn't know how long it would be until I could stop.

I hugged him tightly, feeling his arms light around me, but he inhaled my scent deeply, sighing into my hair.

If he was by my side, I could get through. I could get through.

I had to.

_____