I’m here.
I’ll protect you.
You can count on me.
You can lean on me.
Through little movements, I reassure her that I’m here for her.
She lets out a long sigh, as if resigning herself to the fact I see the truth and her lie is exposed. I take that as a sign to close the distance and sit beside her on her bed.
She says nothing but leans against me. I lift my arm up and over her shoulder and pull her into a side hug. How long we sit there, I don’t know, but she seems to relax.
“Kaye, I want to help you.” My voice wavers with uncertainty. I desperately want to help.
No, that’s not it.
I want to march out the front door guns blazing, find Asshat-Scott, string him up, and draw and quarter him for fun. But I don’t do that. I’m too fearful going off on Scott will push the wrong buttons with Kaye and result in massive fallout that could ruin any chance I have at her.
“Can you…” Her voice catches, and this time she does wipe a tear from her face. “Do you think you could hold me?”
I glance down at the bruising on her wrists and the marks on her throat. Rage boils up within me, and all I see is red. All I want is to make Scott pay for destroying my Kaye.
But instead of seeking vengeance, I fold Kaye into my arms and listen to her weep. Eventually, her breathing slows and the tension in her body eases.
“Can you hold me until I fall asleep?” She sounds so broken and lost.
“Luv, I’ll hold you until the end of time.” I pull back the comforter and sheets and we lie down together. She tucks into me, small and vulnerable, while I curve my body around hers, protecting her while she sleeps.
Our first night in the same bed, and all I do is hold her in my arms? Not my usual, but somehow, it’s imperfectly perfect.
Now, in the morning, we’re going to have a talk.
There’s no fucking way I’m going to sit on the couch like an idiot while Scott hurts my girl. That shit ends now.
But first, I need to know why she went back to him. What hold does he have over my Kaye?
TWELVE
Kaye
I slowly open my eyes and curl into the warmth that radiates from Zeb’s body. I shift slightly and he pulls me close, holding me in a protective embrace. I remember last night and allow myself a moment to savor the feeling of being here with him.
And not with Scott.
I can’t believe I’m here, in the safety of Zeb’s arms.
His face is serene and peaceful as he sleeps, lips softly parted, his chest rises and falls in slow, steady breaths. I sigh with contentment, but then the events of the previous day come back to me and I cringe.
My dirty secret is out in the open, something I’ve tried to hide from those I care about the most.
It’s time to face reality.
I gently extricate myself from Zeb’s embrace and try not to wake him as I slip out of bed. I tiptoe toward the bathroom, where a warm shower awaits me.
After a few seconds to warm the water, soothing steam fills the air and engulfs me in its comforting embrace. One glance down and there’s no way to deny the ligature marks around my wrists and ankles. Shame overcomes me as I stand under the water, wishing it could wash away my lies.
Lies needed to protect my roommates from Scott’s madness.
My thoughts spin and twist with what happened yesterday. How I allowed Scott to do things that frightened me. How his dark eyes filled with the need to hurt me.
I wish I could make it all go away.
I wish Zeb hadn’t seen the marks. My fingers press against my throat, feeling at the tender skin where Scott strangled me.
Tears fill my eyes and mingle with the water flowing over my body. I don’t know what to do. I tried leaving him, but when he cornered me outside the library several weeks ago, and gave his ultimatum, there was only one choice.
A shiver creeps down my spine, making me shudder and regret the choices I made.
The hot water, however, soothes away the tension in my body; each muscle slowly relaxes as if being kneaded by skilled hands. This sense of peace won’t last. I’ve been ordered to return to Scott later tonight, after he’s done teaching for the day, where I will endure more pain.
No matter how hard I scrub, no amount of soap and water can wash away my shame. I scrub and scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is pink and raw. As I turn off the shower, a gentle knock from the other side of the bathroom door makes me jump.
“Kaye?” It’s Zeb and his mellow voice is filled with concern. “Are you okay in there?”
I take a deep breath and compose myself before answering.
“Yes.” My voice sounds small, weak, and so very unsure.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will make me disappear. I can’t face Zeb. I can’t face him because he knows. He knows where I’ve been and what I’ve done. He knows about my terrible secret.
I wish I could follow the soapy water down the drain and disappear for good.
“Are you decent?” He calls to me from the other side of the door.
Scott would never allow me the dignity of privacy. He’d barge in and take what he wanted.
“Yes.” I wrap a towel around my body.
The door opens and Zeb peeks inside, concern etching his face as he takes in my dripping wet hair. While my body may be covered by the towel, my neck remains bare. My ankles and wrists too. From the widening of his eyes, and swift intake of his breath, the red marks discoloring the pale skin are visible.
I hate this. I hate having to endure the disappointment I see in his eyes.
Zeb steps into the bathroom until we’re face to face. He pulls me in for a hug, holding me silently as if he can sense this is what I need right now—nothing more than to be held without judgment or expectation.
He then shifts back half a step, but keeps a hold of my hands as he looks deeply into my eyes. “This isn’t okay. What he did isn’t okay.”
I can only nod, and stand mutely, since speaking about it would mean confessing not only what Scott did, but that I allowed it. I encouraged it.
That’s something I’m not ready to admit.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
Zeb’s grip on my hands tightens reassuringly, and he lets out a deep sigh.
“You don’t have to go through this alone.” His tone is gentle, but firm. “Do you want to contact the authorities?”
My heart stops. If I do that, I’ll have to admit I let Scott do this to me. I can’t.
I just can’t.
Zeb should be angry that I went back to Scott. He should hate that I allowed this to happen. Instead, he asks how he can help?
I don’t understand him—his motives, or what drives him—but I admit I need help.
Can I talk about what’s happening without feeling ashamed or guilty?
Zeb’s steady gaze gives me the courage I need to trust he won’t hurt me too.
“I can’t go to the cops.”
“Will you tell me why not?” Zeb’s compassion is what will ruin me.
He remains firm, asking for an explanation, without demanding one. His tone, the way he delivers his words, speaks volumes. He wants me to trust him, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I’ve fallen too far over the cliff. There may be no way back for me.