Tough Love

Chapter Sixty

I think something has gotten through to her, because while she's silent for a few minutes, she eventually whispers, “He burnt me...”

“Who did?”

“The man that was at your parents' house...”

I take a deep breath. Maybe watching his interview isn't a good idea. I might get the sudden urge to wring his neck. After I feel like I've got control of myself a little bit I ask, “Is that what you were dreaming earlier?”

She nods. I have to take another calming breath before continuing.

“Where did he burn you?” I have an idea, but I need to hear it from her. She needs to get this off her chest.

“My back and arms.”

“What did he use?”

“A blow torch and some times a metal rod...”

I clench my hands into fists and sit on them. I actually just want to hurt him. I'd like to give him the same treatment. I want him to feel the same pain. Actually, I want him to feel way worse than Dani did.

“I can't even ask why, because no behavior like that can be explained. He's a sick and twisted monster. He was there a lot?”

“Almost every week.”

“That's what the scars are from...”

She doesn't have to reply, I already know, but she simply nods a confirmation.

“How can someone do something like that, Eli? He liked to watch me in pain. He liked to see how much my skin could take. Why does someone do something like that?”

“Because they're screwed up in the head, baby. That's the only explanation there is. He obviously feels like he has to control other people, which means he really doesn't have control over his own life. It stems from insecurity and feeling inferior. I'm not making excuses, because he fully had control over his actions. There is no excuse for someone behaving like that.”

“It's always going to haunt me...”

“Maybe the drugs will make the memories fade a little bit...”

“Even if they do, I'm always going to have the scars. I can't escape those. There are so many scars. Constant reminders...”

“I'm sorry, Dani. I'm so sorry. I can't make it all better and for that I am the most sorry. What can I do to help?”

She shrugs. There really isn't anything I can do or say to make it all go away. She has so many insecurities about herself and I think her scars are a big part of this. I would tell her every day how beautiful she is, but I don't want her to freak out and think I just want to use her body like every other man. I decide to test the waters on this.

“Dani? Why do you cover your arms when we're at home? I've seen those scars before...”

She lets out a sob and manages to choke out, “I don't want to see them; I don't want anyone to see them. I don't want anyone to ask about them...”

“I don't need to ask about them. It's just us here, there's no one else to see them. So why do you really not wear short sleeves?”

Her shoulders slump, like she's resigning herself to something. “Because they're ugly. Because they're ugly reminders of how messed up my life is, of how many awful things I've had to endure. I don't want or need any reminders of that. I live it every day, I don't need any more visual reminders. I don't need you to look at me and be repulsed by the scars. I already feel like I'm tainting you and dragging you down; I don't need to see the look of disgust on your face when you actually see what I really am...”