“Kaelin—fuck—,” he breathed. He reached out a hand and I trembled. There were lash marks all over my body. Most were angry red welts but some cut into my skin. The worst ones were the two cuts that ran along the side of my hip. I risked a look down at him. His face was a storm of fury and misery for my pain. He lifted my shirt up my stomach a few inches and an angry growl escaped when he saw the cuts and welts that extended up further. My body was a molted collection of bruises and knife wounds. He grabbed the first aid kit and fiercely got to work.
