“After I killed Alan, I called Simon. He came to the house and told me to leave. He broke my phone and told me to wait three days before getting a replacement with the same number. He said to pretend I was on vacation.”
“That’s why you’ve been using your cards, leaving a fucking trail all over the goddamn state.” He pulled his phone out as he muttered, “Jesus Christ, Matlock is gonna kill him.”
“What happened? Is Simon okay?”
Billy held up his hand as he put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, I found her. Yeah, it was her. He told her to fucking run.”
I stared at Billy, straining to hear the other side of the conversation.
“No, she told me everything.” He paused and looked at me. “Clear self-defense,” he explained as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “We’ll be home tomorrow.”
I scrambled from the bed and grabbed Billy’s arm. “What happened?”
His eyes glanced down where my hand was, and I yanked it back as if I’d been burned. I still hadn’t learned my lesson. Why couldn’t I get it right? Why did I have to touch everyone?
I stepped back and sank down on the bed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you.”
“Sadie.”
Tears welled up in my eyes at the tone of his voice. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t hard either. Maybe he wouldn’t punish me the way Alan had. Maybe there was still a chance I could soften his anger.
I closed my eyes tight, trying to find the right words that would soothe him. My eyes sprang open when I felt his hands on my thighs. Billy was crouched down in front of me. I swallowed carefully; he was too close. I’d never be able to avoid the hit with him in front of me like this.
“I-I’m sorry, Billy. I won’t do it again.”
“Sadie, look at me.” His finger lifted my chin until I was looking into his eyes. “I won’t hurt you, baby.”
A tear slipped out. Alan had told me the same thing once. Then it changed to‘I only hurt you because I love you.’And‘You need to learn, baby.’Then it changed to‘Why do you push me to this?’
In the end, he wasn’t careful with his words. In the end, he was honest about what he thought.
It was my fault he hit me.
I wouldn’t listen.
I was flirting with someone.
I made him angry.
I forced him to punish me.
I wouldn’t give in.
I told him no.
I owed him.
The sound of his voice echoed in my head with every line he fed me, every excuse he used to hit me, punish me, rape me. Until he was right in front of me.
It was his face I was looking into. His face, smiling with love that wasn’t really true.
Love didn’t hurt.
Love didn’t strike out.
Love didn’t force you to do things you didn’t want to do.
Even when you said yes in the past.
