What if we crash

JESSE

The massive marble bathroom is dark apart from a few candles scattered across the floor and vanity.

This room is fit for royalty. With the moss green tiles, chic golden faucets, velvety bath mats, and elegant details, only a prince could have something like this.

I couldn't wait to get my body into warm water. I sit down in the large tub, with my back to Ollie with a caddy of soaps, oils and bottles set along the stone rim. I sigh, comfortable with the closeness, sink further beneath the surface as steam wafts between us. It is making me hot, too hot, and utterly confused. "I rarely have baths," I admit, unsure of what the protocol is here.

"I love a good bath," Ollie murmurs, and I feel something cool spill down my back. Bodywash.

"I had them since I was young," he is starting to massage the herb-scented soap into my skin with a washcloth. The touch is weirdly relaxing, even if slightly intimidating.

"You were never given baths growing up?" Ollie whispers.

I'm looking into the water at my feet. It is already covered in bubbles. I can't really see much of Ollie in this position, but there is definitely a touch of hesitation to his raspy voice.

"I grew up waiting for someone to come and take me and show me all those things, you know. I never found out who my parents were. My mother... Apparently, she left me at the fire station door soon after she delivered me and I was put in the system, waiting for an adoption."

"I can't even imagine..." the sadness in his voice is making me feel untethered and weak. Too weak. I don't want to go to that place. "Nobody took care of you?"

"I don't have... anyone." I frown, that sounds beyond pathetic. "Some people tried. I had foster parents, but soon they would realise that I'm either too much to handle and before I knew it I'd be back in a group foster home."

"You weren't hurt Jesse? Please tell me none of these monsters hurt you?" asks Ollie, scrubbing my skin harder. I crave his comforting touch. Crave it as much as I craved his firm and confident fucking. Maybe I still have a long way to go from that little boy begging for a bit of affection.

I snort. "That's a hard question to answer because lots of it my mind just blocked out. They would hit me when I misbehaved. Mostly I was ignored, with so many kids there. I remember once I was punished for spilling my drink on the carpet. The carer shut me in the closet, I haven't eaten or drunk anything all day. Other times they used sedatives. Or restrains."

"Jesse..."

"One family took me in when I was twelve. I thought I would get that thing that everyone was talking about, we all had a dream about what that family would be like. But they had they're own kids and I was just a spare. A charity case. They didn't know me, or tried to get to know me so I was left to my own devices."

"I don't understand. Why would they take you in the first place if they aren't able to show you love? To take care of a child?!"

I chuckle. "Money. The families that are in the foster care system get monthly payments that are supposed to be spent on the child's food clothing and education. But sometimes people are greedy and kids get neglected. Instead of providing the child with the best they can offer they are putting the money in their own pockets."

By the way Ollie is listening to me talk about this, I know that it cuts deep knowing his involvement with the refugee camp and all the kids he cares about there.

"The world is so cruel...all those kids were never given a chance."

"Some of us made it out," my voice is lighthearted because I need it to be like that. "I've got someone washing my back. I wouldn't say I'm doing so bad." The last thing I wanted was for Ollie to think I was sad, to pity me. I can't change the past and I can't erase the bad from the world but I am ok. I'm a fighter.