"It's okay."
The voice was soft and soothing, pulling Evelyn back from the cold edges of her mind. Her hands moved involuntarily, clutching at his neck as if anchoring herself. Her face was pale, her eyes searching his for a truth she desperately needed to confirm.
"You're Michael, aren't you?"
He wiped the tears from her cheeks, his gaze heavy with a hearty, aching affection. "It's me. You're safe Evelyn." Slowly, the rigid tension that had turned her body to stone began to melt away.
But the memory of the night clung to her like a shroud. Only one man had ever truly known her, and that man was Michael Thorn. Yet tonight, the rough, unwanted hands of strangers had defiled that sanctity.
"I'm so dirty... I want to take a bath. They touched me..." The memory of the scene flashed back, vivid and sickening, making her stomach churn with the urge to retch.
