Chapter 308 Don't Touch Me!

She wished it were a dream. Susan sneered, sitting up in bed. She didn't want to spend another second looking at Manuel, or thinking about last night. The memory haunted her; she clearly recalled taking the initiative.

She lifted the quilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed, instantly collapsing to the floor. Her legs were exhausted from the previous night's exertions.

Manuel, sleeping soundly moments before, awoke to the sound. He opened his eyes and leaned to help her, but Susan screamed as his finger brushed her skin.

"Don't touch me!"

Even a light touch triggered her hysteria. Manuel withdrew his hand. Susan glared at him, noticing his innocent yet clearly upset expression. She also saw his bruised, naked upper body as the sheet slid down, revealing the extent of his injuries. He looked terribly abused, his fair skin marred by extensive bruising. The blame, undoubtedly, rested with her. Seeing this, her hysteria intensified.

Though she acknowledged her violent behavior the previous night, she found it hard to believe Manuel was so badly hurt. He was bruised all over after sex.

"What a pussy!" she scorned.

Manuel noticed her gaze and pulled the sheet higher.

Gritting her teeth, Susan struggled to her feet and stumbled from the room. Despite her weakness, the force with which she slammed the door was considerable. It echoed like thunder.

He watched her go, remembering her last words before their encounter: "I hate you." And now, upon waking, her first words were, "Don't touch me!" The tension between them, he realized, had drastically worsened.

Susan returned to her room and, closing the door, burst into tears. She found the truth agonizing to accept. She had vowed to remain a virgin until marriage to Henry. How could Manuel have taken that from her?

She screamed again, feeling pushed to the brink of collapse. Suicide seemed a quick escape. She didn't know how long she screamed and cried.

She showered, discovering a few bruises on her own body, far fewer than Manuel's. She still struggled to accept these physical reminders of the night's events, rubbing at her skin, trying to erase them. This only intensified the memories. During sex, Manuel had been passive, waiting, only touching her as he reached orgasm. Even then, he seemed to restrain himself, a fact she found strangely attractive.

This thought caused her to scrub harder, desperate to avoid being consumed by the memory of the night. She scrubbed relentlessly, but the past remained.

"Ms. Phillips!" Tia flung the door open.

Susan, irritated, snarled, "Get out!"

Tia froze, embarrassed. Though she knew Susan was showering, she hadn't anticipated seeing her naked body and blushing crimson.

"Get out! Don't you hear me?" Susan screamed, almost slapping Tia.

Tia stammered, "Ms. Phillips, you've been showering too long. You'll pass out if you continue…"

"It's none of your business! Get out!"

Tia, usually timid, pushed past her fear. "Mr. Johnson wants to make sure you're alright."

"None of his business!"

"He's worried about you. He's worried you'll try to kill yourself…"

"I won't!" Susan yelled. "He doesn't deserve my death!"

"Mr. Johnson is a good man," Tia defended him, truthfully. As a country girl working as a servant, she'd found him the kindest employer—gentle, amicable, and supportive, even encouraging her college aspirations.

"Are you leaving or not?" Susan was annoyed by any mention of Manuel.

She’d believed Manuel to be a good man. Despite telling others he and Justine coveted the Phillips property, deep down she'd trusted him for years. If not for his manipulative marriage scheme, she would have continued to believe in him.

Before Susan could explode, Tia hastily closed the door. The sight of Susan's rage was terrifying.

From outside, Tia yelled, "Ms. Phillips, I'll wait outside. I'll knock in ten minutes. And if you're still showering, I'll keep knocking…"

"I told you to get out!" Susan fumed. "Manuel, you bastard!"

"By order of Mr. Johnson!"

Susan fell silent, then suddenly opened the door, startling Tia. She shoved past her and threw herself onto the bed, burying herself under the quilt.

"Ms. Phillips, would you like something to eat?"

"Fuck off!" Susan spat, her anger palpable.

Tia observed her, then left, closing the door behind her. Susan remained under the quilt, wishing to remain there for the rest of her life.