“I’m running away from someone,” I admit.
His eyes move to the scar on my neck, igniting a cold rage behind the green in his eyes. With his free hand, he goes to move the hair from my neck, exposing the scar. A gentle finger traces the tender flesh, making a shiver run up my spine and lace through my bones.
But it doesn’t hurt the way I thought it would.
“He did this to you?” He whispers.
I nod, breaking my gaze from his lethal stare as I swallow down the thickness rising in my throat. Silence falls again, indicating the room he is giving me to speak if I choose to.
“We knew of one another growing up, our names and such, but we didn’t really get to learn about one another until high school. We were high school sweethearts.”
Maybe had I not been so young, I could’ve gotten out sooner, seen the signs sooner.
“His parents passed away early in our relationship from a car accident. Which felt like another reason to stay with him. It was really hard on him. Devastating. As it should be. My family was his only family.”
“It became more of a necessity than a want,” he says, the question lingering on the end.
“Yeah,” My voice catches. “He was great. We were great. He…he was my first for everything. It was all so perfect until things just started happening.” My brows crease as my memory plays over each and every detail I’d missed until it was too late.
“It was subtle. It’d start with small outbursts, leading into bigger ones. Where walls would be punched, doors slammed, things broken or thrown. He’d get angry if we didn’t have sex. He’d try to talk me into it, even if I really didn’t want it. Finally, I’d just give in because it was easier than dealing with him harassing me the whole time or being in a bad mood because he didn’t get what he wanted. I didn’t notice the subtle manipulation until it was too late.”
Hewincesat my words. This lethal, dangerous predator of a man winces atmystory. Closing his eyes, he takes in a slow deep breath again. He remains quiet, allowing me to spill secrets I’d kept for over a decade.
“I always justified it because he was never physical with me until the day I left.” I rub my face. “I just…I just made stupid fucking excuses all the time. He worked too much. He didn’t get enough sleep. Or that I did something wrong. I hate myself for not seeing the signs sooner, or just simply choosing to ignore it altogether and find excuses to validate his behaviors.”
Tyler nods, his eyes lost in the darkness of the living room. I see his jaw flex.
“We were together for so long, and I told myself I’d only do this once, so I tried to stay and make it work between us. Then he hit me. He finally had the balls to hit me,” I say through clenched teeth. “So, I hit him the fuck back,”
His eyes flick to mine. No other reaction except the glimmer of pride I’m convinced I see and a ghost of a smile on his lips.
I swallow hard and look at our hands. “I paid for that one, too.”
My fingers instinctively touch the scar on my neck. It lingers as a daily reminder for me. Much like the scars Tyler has, too.
Maybe we aren’t so different.
“I don’t know…I don’t know where he is. If he’s even alive,” I croak. “I got a good hit in, which is why I was able to leave. He wasn’t there when the police arrived. He could be on the run or hecould be dead.” I bite my cheek. “But that’s fine, because if anyone were to kill him, I hope it’d be me.”
I’ve never admitted that to anyone.
The pain has become bittersweet, because in losing him, I’m hoping to find myself again. The screams that came from my heart have been silenced by my soul—leaving what was left of me. She’s in search of something now, I’m just not sure what that is yet.
I don’t have to rationalize my feelings with him because he understands what it’s like to be abused and want your abuser to understand the depth of the hurt they caused.
“If the time ever comes, you know who to call,” he says, looking at me.
I have done bad things, Sunny.
“I was a girl that clung to a boy who refused to become a man.” I finally look at him. “Doesn’t that make me just as guilty?”
“I think it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“My parents, I don’t know how they’ll ever unsee that version of me. Bloodied, begging. Their home was the first place I went to. He…he killed me. The sunshine I radiated was eclipsed by him with no hint for it to end.” I blink back tears. “And yet, when my father had a gun in one hand and a bat in the other to potentially finish the job, I stopped him.” My voice catches. “Regardless of what he did to me.”
“I still go back to my parents.” He shrugs with a shake of his head. “Sunny…you don’t have to justify these feelings, or feel guilty about them. Not with me.”
“But he said he'd find me,” I whisper, staring into the darkness of his living room.
