“By the time I turned eighteen, I was in a bad place. I wasworking two, sometimes three jobs just to get by, and then I had to take care of my mother on top of that. She needed more help than I could provide for her. I was mentally and physically exhausted.” I feel his hands run up and down my back, soothing some of my pain away.
“There was an older customer who started coming to the coffee shop where I worked. He was well-dressed and good-looking and made me feel special. He would lavish me with gifts and bring me flowers, and for once, I didn’t feel so alone. After weeks of coming by every day, he finally talked me into having dinner with him.”
“What’s his name?” He asks quietly.
I hesitate before answering. “Tim.”
“Tim, what?”
“Just Tim for now.” I can’t take the chance he will try to find him. I don’t want to worry about him getting into trouble.
I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t press me further, so I continue.
“He drove this fancy car and had this beautiful home. He had everything I never had, and he wanted to give it all to me. I finally told him about my childhood and how my mom needed more care than I could give her. That’s when he came to me with a solution of sorts.” I pick at the sheets nervously, afraid to go on.
“It’s okay, Lyla. I promised you and best friends don’t break promises.”
I blink back the tears and pray his words are true.
“He told me how much he loved me and wanted to take care of me. He said he would put my mom in the best facility he could find, and she would get the help she needed. I wouldn’t have to work anymore or worry about where my next meal would come from. All I had to do was one thing in return,” I whisper.
“Tell me,” he says quietly.
“He wanted me as his wife.” I barely speak the word out loud as the lump in my throat gets bigger. His arm stills on my back, and I feel the tension in his body seep through.
“I knew it was wrong to say yes. I was infatuated with him, but I didn’t love him. I was just so tired and so lonely. I wanted a way out, and he wanted to give me one. I thought I would grow to love him, but I was wrong.” I fist the sheet in my hand and feel the disgust and disgrace weave its way in. “I grew to hate him.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JAKE
Ifeel the anger rise up in me. Not because of her but because of him. She was eighteen fucking years old…practically a child. He saw an opportunity, and he took it.
“How old was he?” I ask suddenly, hoping I’m wrong.
“He was forty when I met him, so forty-five now,” she admits quietly.
I close my eyes tight and force the air painfully into my lungs. The bastard took advantage of someone desperately in need of wanting to feel loved. He was old enough to know exactly what he was doing.
“What happened after you got married?” I clench my teeth, and my jaw hurts from the pressure as my molars grind together.
“After I said yes, things happened quickly. He was true to his word and got my mom into a place where she was under a doctor’s care. I moved into his home shortly after.
He was very careful with me and hardly touched me except for a quick peck on the lips. We had talked before about my inexperience. I had never even kissed a guy before, let alone had sex. I didn’t have the luxury that most kids my age had withgoing to parties and dating. He said I was hisprecious girl, and he wanted to wait until our wedding night.”
Fuck. This is going to kill me.
“It’s okay, Lyla,” I say when I hear her hesitation. “You need to get this out to move forward, and I need to understand it better so I know how to help.”
“We married at the courthouse with strangers as witnesses. The night of our wedding, I knew I had made a mistake. I hated what he did to me,” she whispers. “It hurt so bad, and the blood…” she shudders against me, and I hold her tighter.
“There was so much blood. He said he was sorry the next day for being rough and bought me more gifts. He kept telling me that it wasn’t his fault. He just loved me so much that he couldn’t control how badly he wanted me. I didn’t know what to do. I felt trapped. I had no family and nowhere to go. I eventually learned to shut myself down enough to where I could get through it.”
“Fuck,” I say in a pained voice. My heart feels like it’s being ripped in half when I picture eighteen-year-old Lyla going through that.
“After some time, it got a little better. He traveled a lot for work, so I was free to do what I wanted. I baked a lot and tried new recipes. I learned what he liked and didn’t like to make things go smoother for me. Looking back now, I see how manipulative he was with words. The lower he made me feel about myself, the more I started to believe that I wasn’t worthy of someone better. I mean, who would want a girl that just wanted to lay there and go someplace else inside her head because she hated sex and being touched?”
“Lyla, look at me.” I haul her up so she’s straddling me. She tries to look away, but I touch her chin, bringing her back to me. “You know that what he’s saying is not true, right? He’s a sick fucker who preyed on a young, innocent girl. There is nothingwrong with you. You did what you had to do to survive the situation.”
