I obediently follow Austin upstairs. It's day five and I'm sure my time is up. I haven't said a word to Austin since he left me in the basement after our fight. He's talked minimally, which helps. I've eaten little food and complied stiffly when he checks the tattoo. The damn thing itches, and he's lucky I haven't scratched the ink from my skin.The smell of dinner fills the kitchen when we walk through the door. The table is set for two. I ignore it and head to the master bath. With a shrug, I lift my right arm and pull the T-shirt off. In the mirror, my olive skin is pale. The eyes peering back at me are dead with no hope.Austin stands behind me. I ignore the ink on my breast like I've ignored it these past five days. He washes my back, ass, and lastly, my breast. The water is warm and should be soothing, but it's not. I impatiently wait for him to apply the ointment so we can end this charade."You'll be eating dinner with me tonight," he says after he's finished. "You've healed we
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