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“It’s going to fucking hurt. Not just hearing her pain, but the constant rejection. But if you love her, it’ll be worth it.”
I did love her. I breathed my love for her. It filled my lungs daily. It kept me alive. Now, I hoped it could keep us together.
15
Grace
My muscles flinched when I heard the ding of the elevator. My heart raced, only slowing when I saw Alessandra stepping into my apartment. It beat painfully when her eyes connected with mine. The pity and sorrow shined in them. It smacked me in the chest, knocking me over.
“Grace.” It was there in her voice. In the soft tone. Like I was fragile. Breakable. A victim.
Tears burned behind my eyes. My throat tried to close. I pulled harsh breaths into my lungs as betrayal stabbed me.
“Why would he tell you?”
“Oh, honey. He didn’t mean to break your trust.” She wrapped a comforting hand around my shoulders, leading me to the couch.
I slammed down, unable to control the shaking of my limbs. It was too much. People knew my deepest shame. They knew how weak I was. The truth was tearing apart my insides.
“He just thought you might need someone to talk to.”
My head shook violently. I couldn’t talk about it. The memories were too raw. Too visceral. My stomach hardened. Bile rose in my throat, and I fought to swallow it down.
Memories assaulted me. Hard and harsh. I felt the sting of the whip. Felt the crushing blows of his fists. Felt my bones crack. My skin split.
Blood.
Agony.
Fear.
Shame.
“No. I can’t.” I pleaded with her. This didn’t make sense. He married me to keep me quiet, but he’d told her. Perhaps Cole, too. “Oh, god. Why would he do this?”
Was this a new form of torture? Was he trying to embarrass me? Shame me?
Her hands ran up and down my arms, comforting me. As did her voice. Smooth and soft. Not like Mitchell’s that penetrated my thoughts.
“Probably because he knows I went through something similar.” My head shot up as Alessandra’s words threw me from my own painful memories.
My lips parted in shock as I observed the demons behind her eyes. Haunting her. The same ones I saw in the mirror. When I could bring myself to look.
“I had a guard who sexually assaulted me every night from eighteen until I married Cole. It’s not the same, but I know. I know what it’s like to wonder why. Why did he pick me? Why didn’t I tell anyone? What did I do to gain his attention? What could I have done to stop it?”
It was like she’d pulled the question directly from my mind. All the uncertainty that had rattled around in my head for years. All the fears and worries. The shame. The reasons I’d told no one. Never truly tried to get away.
Besides, where else would I go? I had nobody. No family. Friends only connected to the Kents. No love.
“When did the questions stop?”
When did you feel like yourself again?
I didn’t voice it because I knew the truth. I would never be who I was. That girl had died. Not the first time he hit me or the hundredth. Not when I almost bleed out on our bathroom floor because of his knife. Or when he broke a rib with his foot.
But when I let him take my baby.
“It never stops.” Her smile was genuine, giving me hope. “But it gets better when you realize it wasn’t about you. It was about him. His need for control. His weakness. His pathetic existence. And it helps even more to know he’s rotting in the ground with the fucking worms like he deserves.”
