Page 26 of The Devil’s Feather

“What happens when you have a night terror?”

“They usually occur when I am stressed or very tired. I never remember anything, but from what I have been told, it is mostly thrashing and crying out. I may sit up, say nonsensical things, or get up and pace. It may seem like I am awake, but I am not. Speak to me gently and slowly. Do not touch me. Do not try to wake me; it will only make me more agitated. If I do get agitated, you may need to go to another room until it passes. I cleaned off the guest bed, so it is available if you need it.” He sighed. “I am sorry to dump all these rules of engagement on you.”

Certain horror movies flashed in my mind. “Are night terrors dangerous?”

“Not unless you try to restrain me.” Rafael’s nose wrinkled. “I apparently backhanded someone once because of that. Did not actually hurt him, but he refused to believe it was not on purpose.”

He’d mentioned lashing out in violence before. Was it safe to sleep next to him? My heart said yes. My instincts were not so sure. Rafael watched me like he could read my thoughts.

“I’d like to stay,” I really fucking want to stay, “but I need to know some things first.”

“Ask⁠1.” He held my gaze.

I took a deep breath and asked the uncomfortable, absolutely necessary question. “Have you ever hurt a partner when you were awake?”

Rafael’s eyes dropped. “Not on purpose. I had a terrible girlfriend about six years ago. She told me my triggers were overreactions, that I ‘just needed to man up’. She kept pushing until one day while I was restrained, she shoved her hand down my pants and groped me.”

He swallowed. “I am told I threw her against the wall and broke her shoulder and hip. I have no memory of that either—I woke up alone in my bedroom, surrounded by destroyed furniture. Supposedly, her brother came and carried her out.

“To this day, I do not know why she did not press charges. I paid all of her medical bills through that brother.”

Fuck, that was intense, but given the circumstances, understandable. “Have you ever had a reaction like that to an accidental touch? Like if I tripped and brushed against you or something?” It felt wretched to ask, but he was too big and strong for me not to be cautious.

Eyes still down, Rafael shook his head. “I may freeze up, but only deliberate groping makes me lash out.”

“Were there others?” I didn’t really want to know, but I needed to.

“A woman at a bar climbed into my lap after I told her to leave me the fuck alone. I shoved her off harder than intended. She hit her head on the floor and blacked out. I was kicked out of the bar, and never learned what happened to her.” Rafael scrubbed at his hair. “Another one took it personally when I said no to her sexual advances. She tried to pin me down and choke me, and I popped her in the mouth. I knocked out a couple of teeth and paid those bills too.” He dropped his head to the mattress. “I deserve to be charged for these things.”

The odds of charges sticking to a wealthy, attractive man with a recognizable name were slim-to-none. But I fully believed his stories. He told them with the same heartbreaking self-doubt as every survivor I’d ever met.

I inched closer. “No, you don’t deserve to be charged for any of that. Those women sexually assaulted you. You were within your rights to defend yourself each time.”

Rafael looked up, startled. The movement rolled me toward him.

“People call me an abuser.”

“Those people are assholes and perpetuating rape culture. I’m sorry that happened to you. It sounds like your boundaries have always been clear, and these women chose to assault you anyway because they assumed men can’t say no or don’t really mean it.”

He blinked rapidly. God, was he holding back tears?

My heart surged, but I maintained my composure. “I hate to ask you this, but have you ever become violent with male partners who push you too far, or is it only women? Or nonbinary folks, if that applies?”

“Surprisingly, women have been more aggressive with me overall. I hate saying I beat up women, but I lead with those stories because I feel the most guilt there.” He exhaled. “I have hurt many men; partners and hopeful flirts alike. Some deserved it. Some did not. Some I do not fully recall, at places where I am no longer welcome. This is why I do not like crowds or to be impaired by drugs or alcohol. I once broke a man’s jaw and gave him a concussion for kissing my neck without consent.”

“Did you pay his medical bills as well?”

“Not that time. He did it in front of witnesses at a fucking industry party. I did catch a charge for that one, but the case was dismissed.” He lowered his eyes. “My more extreme reactions are not always from being directly triggered. I was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, which is psychiatry speak for ‘shitty fucking temper I cannot control’.”

I chewed on his words, hoping they wouldn’t give me indigestion. “Have you laid hands on every partner?”

Rafael’s shoulders heaved with a sigh. “It is not like that. Happened more frequently in my 20s, but I have only physically lashed out at the ones who triggered me. This is why I lead with all that shit now and try to avoid charged situations. I do not want to be that kind of man.” The shame in his voice curled through my ribs, squeezing them. “But I have to vent the rage, or it comes out in ugly ways. It is never intentional with intimate partners.”

“And the fights help with that?” Hope glimmered at the edges, but was it wishful thinking?

“They do. I want you to feel safe, but I also want you to understand what you are getting into. We can comfortably argue and debate all day, but if you raise your voice at me or dig into triggering topics when I tell you to stop, I will leave the room for your own protection.” Rafael arched a brow. “If I leave, do not chase me, eh? We can pick it up later when I am calm again.”

My breath puffed out my cheeks. “You’re right, that’s a little scary. But it also seems like you’re pretty self-aware. Or trying to be. Are you on good terms with any of your exes?”