I stumbled slightly. I was always clumsy—like the stairs outside—but that was a bit much. He smirked at me. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” He scooped me up. “You’re going to sleep really, really well tonight.”
I practically was by the time he got me up the stairs.
“Layne,” the guard called to me, finally catching me. With a yank, he tugged me back by my hair. “I was talking to you.”
I wished I could pull back, but it would hurt, and I’d learned the hard way that I had to stay still to get out of these conversations. “It’s wash day. And I couldn’t help but notice that you have developed over the last year. So I volunteered. For the washing.”
I swallowed. “Lucky me,” I gritted while wrapping my arms around myself. Most of the guards ignored me, but not Hill. He made it his personal vendetta to make me uncomfortable. And the older I got, the more sinister his stares became.
“Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice,” he replied while squeezing me harder. There would be a bruise where he held me. “You should be grateful I’m even letting you take a shower. Maybe I should make you sit in your filth for a couple of months; you’ll be looking forward to bath time with me then, huh?”
His threats made me tip my chin up in defiance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with,” I gritted.
The outdoor bathhouses had no walls for privacy. It was basically a pole burrowed into the ground, with a spout on the top. Modesty was a gift denied me from a young age. When you always had eyes on you, none of it mattered. But things felt different now. My breasts were heavier and round, my hips more defined. My legs were longer now, and my face lacked the baby fat I once had.
All I could do was wash as quickly as possible. The faster I was clean and clothed, the faster I could get rid of Hill’s creepy stare.
“Strip down,” he instructed, his voice raspy and needy. My heart traveled up my throat. I didn’t want to lose my clothes but didn’t have much of an option.
I slowly unbuttoned my top and shrugged it off my shoulders. I then shoved my pants over my hips. I had a split moment of debating on taking off my underclothes but paused when I noticed Hill with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. I could see him stroking the outline of his cock through his guard uniform. Cruel bile spread up my throat, and I kept my bra and panties on, not caring how ridiculous it looked.
“I said strip down,” he said when I made my way over to the shower stream. I pretended like I hadn’t heard him and stepped under the icy stream.
“Layne,” Hill yelled again. I quickly got my hair wet while shivering under the cold water. I grabbed soap and ran it over my skin in a hurry, washing as much as I could in the time it took Hill to stalk over to me. “Undress.”
I pinned my mouth shut, though I wanted to scream “No!” Defiance would be punished. Where was the warden?
Hill’s hand gripped my shoulder. He pushed the strap down, and I wrapped my arms around my chest to stop him from seeing me. “No!” I screamed.
“Strip down for me,” Hill moaned.
“No, no, no!” I screamed as his fingers pinched my nipple through the thin fabric of my cotton bra. “I said no!”
Hands gripped my hips. If the other guards saw, they would stop him. I just had to scream as loud as possible.
“Layne, Princess,” a voice said, gentle yet insistent at the same time.
“No!” I cried out. “Don’t touch me!”
“Wake up, Layne,” the gentle voice said again. My body shook. I sluggishly waded through the memories.
Cypress’s face was close to mine in the darkness. He had his shirt off, and his hand was on my forehead as he stroked my hair. “You’re having a bad dream. Nothing more.”
“Memory.” My voice was soft, and I wasn’t sure I could find the energy to make it any louder, as if doing so might make it disappear altogether.
“You were having a memory.” He winced. “Those are the worst dreams. You’re here now. Not in whatever time that was with whatever was happening to you.”
“There was a guard. He used to get off on watching me shower.”
His hand faltered slightly in its stroking through my hair. “That so?”
“Hill. That’s his name. Anyway, just a bad memory of the first time that happened. Maybe it was all the ways I felt exposed today.” It was dark outside, which meant it was still nighttime, or maybe it was very early.
He scooted down next to me. “Come here. Head on my chest. And if you tell anyone I did this, I’ll totally deny it. I don’t do cuddles. But this is different. This is a memory nightmare. The very worst.”
I sniffed and did as he said. The moment my cheek touched his bare skin, I warmed with comfort. The memories faded. I focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest. Was this sense of comfort normal? Or was I so starved for human interaction that I gave in to his touch easily? “Do you ever have memory nightmares?” I asked while lifting my hand up to run along his chest. He bristled then relaxed, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of my intrusive touch or question.
“Yes, Princess,” he said. “I do.”
I swallowed. “What do you dream about?”
His hand resumed stroking my hair
