Cecilia
Taking what little of my dignity remained, I nodded as I wrapped the blanket closer. As I stood, I said, “Fine. I’ll go inside.”
“Fuck, Cecilia.”
“What, Greyson?” My exasperation raised my volume. “I’m doing what you said. Remember, you’re in charge.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked away, back through the back door. As I pushed the door shut, the sight of my wrists and lower arms reminded me why Greyson wouldn’t want me, why no one who knew my story would want me.
I was damaged goods.
The bruises would heal, but I wasn’t certain I could ever see myself again the way I had been before this ordeal.
Despite being inside, the temperature wasn’t warmer. The chill left from the storm had settled into the flooring and walls. Laying the blanket over one of the chairs, I rubbed my hands together as I searched for something, anything to make me feel useful.