The Carrero Heart - Beginning (Friends to Lovers)

There’s strong muscle around me, arms gripping tight, warm skin on mine as I try like crazy to fight back; completely lost in my internal darkness and the memories of shadows and pain, so much pain. I can hear someone screaming, yelling, but it’s so far and disconnected from me that I can’t even begin to find them or where it’s coming from. So completely consumed in the fight to keep myself from being broken all over again with no hope of escape this time.

Like a flash of light, a trickle of lucidity, I’m suddenly on the floor with weight on top of me, trying to restrain the arms against every part of me, fighting tooth and nail while tears pour down my face.

“No, NO … NOOO!” I’m screaming hysterically. I am the noise I could hear so far away, it was me; I was the screaming girl in the distance who sounded like she was being savaged by dogs. It snaps me into instant silence, then whimpering as I realize I’m not back in that dark room with the rancid air around me, suffocating me. Encased in strong arms and solid steel restraints made of muscle that aren’t actually hurting me at all. I sob and gasp and take a moment to fully come around, from hell to here as lights begin to trickle into my self-inflicted darkness.

The walls recede then cave back in as I stumble mentally, darkness taking control again as I panic, and I am no longer aware of what’s happening once again. All I am is the sheer terror and fear and crippling suffocation of an attack, face soaked, and coughing so much I start retching, still fighting hard to save myself from a pain I never want to go back to. I can’t let that ever happen to me again, I won’t let anyone do that to me.

I’ll fight. I’ll always fight.

“Sophie, baby … come back to me. Please stop. Sophie, I’m sorry. Baby, look at me, were home, you’re safe, it’s me. Listen to my voice. No one is going to hurt you. I swear.” Arrick’s strained voice comes at me through the haze, torn and gentle. Raw with emotion. My real Arry’s voice, that calming wave of security, not the monster who tried to hurt me back there in the dark. Holding me down, his nose comes to mine softly, trying to pull me out, as I wriggle and fight off my attacker in various stages of memory that makes me blind to my reality. Lost in being held down and beaten into submission, unwilling to ever yield, to ever let him take me.

“No, no … no means NO.” I sob over and over, fighting until my limbs go weak and I can’t fight anymore, my brain letting go of the dark cloud that’s keeping me locked inside my head as exhaustion drains every ounce of me. His face comes into soft focus so all I can see are hazel and green eyes, bringing me back into the light, calming the craziness of my head enough to bring me back slowly. Appearing above me like a sudden awakening from a terrible nightmare. I can barely breathe, panting and gasping hard, choking on my tears in my furious rigidity as I strain my limbs to keep him at bay

“Please stop, look at me…. We’re not back in Illinois. Sophie, were in Manhattan, you’re in my apartment, baby. You’re safe…. Breathe, slow and steady, breathe with me; listen to me. Focus on my voice and breathe…” His soothing tone comes through the panic once more, connecting to me on some level and I lose all resolve. Fight in me dying as fatigue overtakes me and I realize I am held tight in his arms. His muscles, his strength as he holds me taut, so my body is immobile. Gasping and shoving with all my might and strangling myself with the inability to catch my breath. I inhale heavily, as my surroundings start to take shape and cough at the sudden rush of air that makes me feel like I might be sick.

“Don’t.” I croak brokenly, not even sure why I say it, eyes screwing shut as pain consumes my soul. Only realizing I’m still on the floor of Arrick’s apartment when I lose all ounces of strength and finally give up the fight. Coming to, aware of the hard wood beneath me, cold and solid and very real. Starting to get my bearings once more as I flick my eyes open, sniffing hard, still struggling to catch my breath and the familiar apartment comes into view.

Arrick looks completely devastated, holding my wrists and body solidly with every part of his, even my feet are pinned with his legs, to control my violent outburst. His eyes full of moisture, his face scratched and he has blood on his bottom lip, a handprint across his cheek. I don’t remember doing that to him, but his heavy breathing suggests he has had a hell of a battle to control me and restrain me, and the way he is holding me down means he has tried to stop me from hurting myself again, like I used to. I know him, this isn’t the first time he’s had to help me when I was trapped in the past and lashing crazily.

and rage in parts of

now … Just stay calm, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He swallows hard and very slowly takes the iron grip from my wrists as he moves his dead weight from on top of me. Carefully, cautiously untangling his limbs, painfully slowly, so that I can have

strength, skating backwards on hands and butt until my back hits a solid surface and slams me to a halt, staring at my attacker in terror. I curl up into a ball at the foot of the couch, my back pressed hard against it, eyes wide, watching him like a scared animal caught in headlights. In this frame of mind, I trust no one, no one gets to touch me, and I am barely here. Ready to lash out and defend myself again, ready to take on any cruel hands or naked flesh which wants to defile me over and over. I

leaving mine, so devastated. It claws at my defenses a little, pulls me an inch closer to reality and away from the foggy dreamlike state I’m halfway in and out

get enough energy and strength back. Curling my legs against me harder and

to cry silently again; more gently and less hysterical as the realization comes crashing in that I’m really here and not there. That this isn’t a dream, that I am sat in Arry’s safe and familiar apartment on the floor, surrounded by broken things that were knocked and pushed in

torn at one shoulder and there’s blood droplets from gouges under the thin material gaping open, He has a darkening mark over his eyebrow which pans down the side of his face

out, fighting for my life, he must have only restrained me and pulled me down to hold me tight. There isn’t one tiny mark on me. I feel nothing in terms of injury, pain, or bruises or even where he held me tight; there’s not a sign of redness. This fact makes me even more desolate about what I have done to him and I sob as reality finally fully connects. Intolerable guilt

the blur of my tears and rock gently to soothe my agony. Locked inside my head to find my own calm. When I needed somewhere else to go and endure what was happening, this is how I did

in the most heart-wrenching sign of regret, his voice

I immediately tense up. I’m still perched on the edge of a knife, trying to calm myself

cheek and I lift my fingers to where he’s focused, wiping something wet and look to the red stain on my fingertips in complete shock. It’s like a smear of shame, a huge slap in the face of what I have done, and I break into a million pieces, uttering a soft wail, that I have his blood on my face, like some

knees brokenly. Unable to look at him, so ashamed of this little bitch who lives inside of me eternally, her need to always lash out

me now, pleading, begging, his body heat caging me in. He moves in around me, trying to angle in to look at me with his hands on the floor so he doesn’t physically touch me

arms come around me tightly, pulling me into his lap as he buries his face in my hair securely and cradles

I was thinking. Forgive me, Mimmo. I love you so much, Sophie, I would never do anything like that to you, I couldn’t hurt you that way, for anything. I’m a fucking asshole.” His voice is torn, ravaged with emotion, there’s moisture on his cheek as I find his face to rub against mine, trying to wrap him around me like the security I always need. Aching