His hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me in place as he grinds against me. “You’ve got me, Ayden,” he breathes against my lips. Before I can respond, he dives back in.
I want to go see my family.
I don’t… want this.
Fuck, why does it feel like I’m trapped?
Age 24
The week of Christmas
“You aren’t going.”
Every year…
It’s the same fucking thing.
I honestly dread the Christmas season, because no matter what I want, I’m always stuck here in San Francisco—either in this apartment or with his family.
“Why?” I feel a flicker of fight, but the past two weeks have been nothing but arguments. I’m drained and just want to crawl back into bed. At this point, I don’t care about going home anymore.
I don’t care about anything.
“You’ll tell them aboutwhat happened. Even if I’ve apologized for months, you’re still holding it over our relationship.”
The urge to snap back that it’s hard to get over him cheating for the second time bites at my tongue. But I don’t. I keep quiet, afraid this will escalate into a physical fight like so many times before.
I meet his gaze as he stops pacing in front of the door—the one that would be the fresh air I need and the escape I crave.
“Then just come with me?—”
“They HATE me, Ayden!” His scream makes me flinch. “How fucking hard is it to get through your thick skull? They wouldn’t welcome me there.”
My dad and stepmom don’t know why I’ve not come home for the past four years, but Alysa does. At least, that Michael always makes plans for us and guilt trips me into staying.
Not about the abuse.
Not about how fucking terrified I am.
She knew Michael had something to do with it, and was furious… It wasn’t that part of the conversation that tore my heart in two. It was hearing Keo’s name and knowing he still thought about me.
“Even Keoni? He asks every year where you are.”
“Even him… I’ll figure it out, I promise, lefty. Just don’t tell them, please.”
She sighed for so long and told me there are people out there who can help me get out. She doesn’t understand the lengths Michael has already gone to control me. I just hope that one day he’ll realize I’m not worth all this trouble. That he’ll get tired of me and move on to someone who can match his strange energy.
“Every year. Every fucking year!” he shouts.
Yes… every year… I’m such an idiot.
Age 25
Christmas
Beep. Beep.
I didn’t tell my family about the car accident.
