Walla

ring the delicate fabric away from my burning flesh. I clawed at my neck, my chest, trying to wipe a

run. I had to get home. Had to get to a shower. The retreat had f

ng from contact, fumbled with the key. I burst through the door, shedding my clothes as I went, a

nt skin, a shock that made me scream, but it was a different kind of pain, a cleansing pain. I stayed t

earlier assault, throbbed in protest. Exhaustion, physical and emotional, threatened

my study. The last box. It held old photo albums, letters, trinkets fr

amnesia, before Jada. We were smiling in every picture, our eyes full of a fierce, youthful love. My heart ached, a deep, hollow pang. Even after everything,

, self-destructive lie. This was it.

the album, tearing up the pictures, shredding letters. Each tear wa

ng the edges of our past. The images of our smiles curled and blackened, turning to ash. It h

ake stood there, his eyes wide, his ch

s expression shifted, concern flickering in his eyes. "What happened to you?"

e memory of his disgust, his violent recoil fro

basin. The flames licked at the last vestiges of a pho

snarled, kicking the basin. The remaining photos scattered, some still smoldering. He snatched one

ng to burn my things? Are you trying to recreate some twisted fantasy to trick me?" His eyes fixed on my b

om his own earlier violence, and squeezed. A fr

fake! You're trying to frame Jada, aren't you? Yo

I gasped, tears streaming down m

t I needed. You've changed your tune now? Suddenly you want to be free? What's your angle, Audrey? What sche

y were brutal, dismissive, utterly devoid of recognition. Th

mpathy. Do you want me to praise your beauty, Audrey? Do you want me to tell you how desirable you are?" He stalked to

my burnt skin scraped against the rough bedspread. I struggled, but he was too str

wave of terror washing

is about desire?" His eyes raked over my body, the burns, the bruises, a look of p

down my temples. I braced myself for the

reamed in protest, every burn, every bruise flaring with pai

run," he sneered. "A place w

traption in the corner, a strange, table-like structure with straps and restraints. My blood ran col

g. "Let me go. I'll sign anything. I'll le

You think I'll just let you walk away from the empire you're legally tied to?" He threw me onto the cold metal table. Th

restraints. But my body was weak, my movement

evers. My eyes widened in horror. This was a device he had designed, a "stress tester" he called it, for his

"You are my wife, Audrey. My puppet wife," he declared, his voice

d, constricting force. Then, a sharp, piercing pain. It was a pressure that felt like it was crushing my orga

thrashed, but the restraints held firm. The pain was beyond anyth

ake before me, but the vibrant, laughing Jake from college. The Jake who had held me close when I was

the name a desperate, fa

expression, moments ago a mask of sadistic pleasure, suddenly

he often had. A dream of a sun-drenched beach, a woman with long, dark hair laughing, and a man

twisting dials. The device whirred, then powered down. The cr

voice rough with a new, unsettling urgency. "Audrey! Audrey, wake up! Who

d remain