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Racheal's scars

Racheal took her hand out of Steffan's. The memory of her experience at the interrogation room made her eyes sting with tears.

“What if YOU hurt me, who should I tell?” she asked, pressing her lips together to hold back her tears.

She was unaware that the tears had broken free, till she felt Steffan’s warm fingers wiping her face.

Damn! Why was she so quick to break down?

“Come, I made a bath for you.” He said turning quickly. He grabbed her hand, and he led her out of the closet.

The bubble bath smelled so good, and looked irresistibly inviting to her exhausted body. But did this man intend to bathe her?

As if reading her thought, he said, “You can step in with your lingerie on.”

“I would like to have a private bath.” She said in the most serious tone she could put on.

“No.” He said. “You still have not eaten, what if you pass out again.”

What he said made logical sense, and she would have her a pair of lingerie on. At the very least, the lingerie was still one layer between her
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