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me.  I remember his words.  ‘How could you make me do this to you?’  It wasmy fault.  It was all my fault that it had happened.”

Garrett squeezed her kneesoftly.  “Devon, it wasn’t your fault.”

A tear fell from her eye, and shelet it roll down her cheek.  “It was my fault.  If only I had been better tohim or if I had done more, he wouldn’t have gotten so upset.”  She took ashuddering breath.  “I never wanted to make him that unhappy ever again.  Wehad greatness, you know?”

“Dev—”

“I swore I would do better andtry harder.  I wanted us to work.  We had to work.  I asked him to promise hewould never do it again,” she whispered.

“But he didn’t?” Garrett asked.

“No, it happened again,” shesaid.  “Not right away, but it did.  I just couldn’t figure out how I could doany better.  I was everything to him.  I tried so hard to be what he needed.”

“If you think that, then why didyou end up coming to Chicago?”

Devon could hear the desperation inhis voice.  He didn’t understand.  He didn’t get what she had gone through. This was why she had never told anyone.  She couldn’t break the silence only tosuffer through disbelief.  She couldn’t stand the thought of people judgingher, or worse, people pitying her decisions.  She had made the right choicesfor her at the time.  Now, what happened if she returned


Her heart sank at the thoughtshe’d had every day since leaving.  Would it all be as it was before?  Wouldhe do worse?  Or would he realize that she was everything he needed?

“We started in this cycle that Ididn’t think would ever break.  He would get so angry, and I would take thebrunt of it.  Sometimes, I just cowered and cried until he forgave me.  Othertimes, I would get angry and storm out.  But then, I stopped getting angry. Leaving was not an option.  It only made things worse.  It made his anger morefrequent.”

“You just kept letting thisguy
hit you?” Garrett asked.

“You don’t understand,” she said,shaking her head.  “I love him.”

“Dev—”

“It got worse,” she whispered. â€œI had to cancel classes for a week.”

“What for?”

“I could normally hide thebruises
that week I couldn’t,” she whispered, staring down at the carpet.  “Henever left bruises on my face again.  It raised too many red flags.”

Garrett hissed through his teethat the imagery.  He didn’t say anything. What could he say?  She didn’twant to look up at him and read what was clearly written on his face, so shepushed through, just wanting to get this story over with.

“But that wasn’t what made meleave,” she told him.  “I had just finished my last final for the semester. When I finished, I was supposed to meet my favorite professor in his office todiscuss my plans for next year.  I got a text, telling me to meet him instead. I rescheduled plans with my professor and rushed to see him.  I didn’t want tobe late.  When I got back, I should have smelled trouble.  Candles were liteverywhere.  There was a bottle of champagne and even rose petals.”

“That’s a sign of trouble?” Garrettasked.

Devon nodded against hisshoulder.  “It should have been, but I saw it as a romantic gesture.  I saw itas a way to get back to the way it had been.  He popped open the bottle ofchampagne while I stripped down for him.  I thought it was going to be thatkind of night.  It felt like we were finally back on the right track.

“But then, he started askingquestions about my professor and why I was going to see him.  I told him that Ihad tutoring, of course, and that my professor wanted to congratulate me for ajob well done this semester.  It was an odd conversation.  I mean, he didn’tlike that I had tutoring, but that week off had put me so far behind that I hadto use every opportunity to get caught up.  He didn’t believe me.

“He grabbed my arm and squeezedas hard as he could, forcing me backward against the bed.  He begged me to tellhim the truth.  I cried and cried and cried, telling him that I had told himthe truth.  There was nothing more for me to tell.”  Devon took a deep breathand then continued.

“I felt like the bones in my armwere going to snap, but the pain evaporated when he yanked a candle off thetable and held the flame to my skin.  I screamed where it touched me.  He saidhe would stop when I told him the truth.  I tried to tell him that I wastelling the truth, but he slapped me across the face so hard that I saw spots. He told me I was lying.  Whenever the flame neared my skin, burning wax wasdribbling down my body.  He said that if I didn’t tell him, then I didn’t leavehim any choice.  I couldn’t convince him, and the pain was blinding.  He movedthe flames to the area, uh
just above my
” Devon pointed down to her netherregion.  She blushed but continued.  “The feel of my flesh burning so near allthose nerve endings was the most intensely painful thing I’ve ever endured, andsoon, I blacked out.”

Garrett reached forward andthreaded his fingers with hers.  She didn’t know where it came from, but it wasa sign of strength.  Devon sighed and used her other hand to pull down thefront of her tiny sleeping shorts.

“See,” she said, pointing at thescar right above her sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” Garrett grumbled.

Devon pulled her shorts back up,ashamed by the conversation.  She had made him think she was cheating, so shehad pushed him over the edge.  Still, even she could see that his punishmentwas excessive, and her realization had spurred her to action.

He had violated her trust, theone thing she had given over to him completely without him ever having to ask. He had taken everything they’d had and torn it down brick-by-brick for his owndeluded sense of control.  He had beaten the trust out of her. He had ruinedtheir sex life, ruined their relationship, and ruined her.

“When I woke up, he was gone.  Acouple days later, I was on the first train to Chicago.”

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