Her eyes

Chapter 60

I had hoped he would be too worked up to pay attention to them, "no one, don't worry about it." I cleared my throat and reached for him again, hoping to deflect the situation with a kiss. He ignored me turning the lights on again and then he cupped my cheeks to stop me, "who did that to you?" He commanded.

"No one, Archer. Are we going to continue or not?" I asked flatly, I was getting defensive and annoyed -mostly at myself- for not thinking about turning the lights off first.

He looked at me like I was crazy, "no, we can't continue."

I quickly pulled my shirt back on. "Right" I replied not looking at him.

"Answer me, who did that to you?" He commanded again the voice that I loved so much, harsh. And directed at me.

"I already told you. No one. Can we not talk about it?"

"What do you mean 'not talk about it'. Someone hurt you and I want to know who." He voice had risen to an almost shout at this point. I wanted to cry and hide under the covers until he was gone. I tried getting up, but he grabbed my arm softly, and sighed. "I'm sorry, forgive me I didn't mean to shout. I'm just trying to understand."

"Why does it matter? Now that you clearly don't want me anymore." I huffed. This is what I was scared of, once he saw a physical manifestation of my past he wouldn't want me anymore. He was probably disgusted and disappointed with me now.

"Layla..." he trailed of softly his face looking like his heart was breaking. "Don't say that. Of course I want you, baby. I-I just want to understand."

"There's nothing to understand. Can't you see?" I asked.

"See what?" He asked confused and then he looked down at my thighs again. I could see the realization slowly hit him. It was like watching a morbid scene that you knew would leave its mark on you, yet you couldn't help but look.

His previously furrowed eyebrows straightened out, his lips parted, as he realized the steady pattern. The similar depth and shape of each raised scar. How they all didn't didn't go past a certain point.

"Layla..." he trailed off both in question and understanding.

"No one," I confirmed, my chin started to wobble but I forced it to stop. This was already embarrassing enough, I refused to start crying and loose what little dignity I had left.

I started getting up, but he grabbed my arm again, firmer this time. "Don't leave."

He cleared his throat as my eyes where burning holes into the covers, "I'm sorry I reacted so harshly, I-I though someone had hurt you..." he grabbed my chin. "Look at me please," and when I did he looked so saddened, his sky blue eyes crestfallen . My eyes instantly filled with the tears I had been fighting.

"Do you still want me?" I asked so softly I didn't think he would hear me.

"Of course I do, with everything that I am." He replied his voice rising in conviction, "I love you Layla and nothing will ever make me stop loving you. Not even death. Even in the hereafter I will find my way to you. What kind of man do you think I am?" He shook his head slowly,

"I don't think you understand, you are the most irresistible woman on this earth. And nothing could diminish your beauty." My eyes started dripping and he wiped my tears away.

"I-I'm sorry." I don't know what I was apologizing for, but I had a bad habit of saying the words whenever I was in trouble. Perhaps it was a way for me to try and minimize the backlash as much as I could.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, baby. I'm the one who should be sorry for the way I reacted. Please forgive me." He was still on his knees in front of me.

I simply nodded, because there was nothing to forgive him for.

He sighed a small breath of relief and sat down next to me placing me in his lap so that I was straddling him. I instantly sought comfort in the warmth of his neck, his scent enveloping me.

"I don't do it anymore." I sniffled after a moment, I wanted to tell him so he wouldn't think I was at risk of ruining everything again. "I haven't in a long time."

"Good, I'm so proud of you baby." He hesitated on whatever he was going to say next. I decided to spare him, Linda always said it was best to get every thing out the first time around, so you wouldn't have to go around obsessing over it. I didn't want him to do that.

"You can ask." I said softly.

"Why?" He asked after a moment.

I shrugged and then I told him about the first time after Tom and Joe and the rest of them. I told him about how it had been such a relief at the time. How it was my only break from my real life.

"I think that it somewhere became my way of coping, that if i had a physical wound it would distract me from what I was feeling inside." I sniffled.

"My baby, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. And alone no less. Please if," he hesitated, "if you ever want to hurt yourself again please tell me so that I can help you."

I only nodded to ease his mind, in truth as soon as I left that town. I hadn't had the urge to do so again. I think it was that place and those people. Something about it just felt so hopeless. I never even planned my future because I didn't even think I would make it this far. I was convinced that I wouldn't make it past 18, or that I'd be stuck there and end up like my mother.

Everyday was tumultuous, every nook and cranny of my childhood home slathered in misery and despair. The only thing I was grateful for was that I was hyper fixated on school work because I had nothing else to do. Expect for painting when I could afford the materials, I did nothing, I had no hobbies and no friends. At the time I hadn't known that it would be my saving grace and the reason I managed to get the grades to attend Cambridge.