It was all lies.
She wasn’t in her apartment, and she didn’t know a Dalton. And, of course, he was going to move her. He was going to put her in the exact position he wanted.
The mattress was thin, hard, and so filthy, she was beyond caring about how disgusting it was. She wanted it to be over.
This always happened. She fought and then gave up, because it was always easier to do that. She was so weak.
Instinct kicked in when she was lifted, and she lashed out with her legs and arms, connecting with hard flesh. She expected to be backhanded across the cheek, but the blow didn’t come. She wasn’t giving up though. She was going to fight this time. She wasn’t going to give in.
“I’m going to put you down now, Steff. You’re safe. You’re at home.”
Why did this person keep using her name? How did they know it? They’d never called her anything but whore or bitch.
And she wasn’t home. Why did this person keep insisting she was, when she wasn’t?
More lies.
She was still fighting when she was placed on a soft surface.
Soft? That’s not right.
There was the scent of pine too. A comforting smell. A safe smell.
Wait.
You’re safe. You’re at home.
The words stabbed through the haze and fear, and, as though a dark blindfold had been swept off her face, everything came back into focus.
Her large screen TV mounted on the wall. Her coffee table. Her books neatly shelved on her bookshelf.
Dalton seated on the ground by the couch, his shirt back on. His fingers gripping the cushion she lay on. Worry lines marred his forehead, and concern deepened the blue of his eyes.
“Dalton,” she whispered.
“Hey, there you are.” His lips quirked into the reassuring smile she was becoming addicted to seeing.
“Oh god.” She covered her face with her hands as realization of what happened and what she’d been doing before the attack, sunk in. “You must hate me.”
“The opposite actually. I like you. I like you a lot, Steff.”
She opened her fingers so that she was looking at him through the gaps. “You do? Even after what happened? I wastouchingyou, and then…” She couldn’t finish, and closed her fingers again so that she couldn’t see him.
“Honey, look at me,” his voice coaxing her to do what he asked.
“How can you look at me?”
“Easily. I see a beautiful, brave woman that has endured a lot.”
“Pfft, I’m not brave. I’m weak.” Anger welled in her. She dropped her hands and sat up. “I’m still acting like a victim. I was laying there whining like a silly little girl. How pathetic is that?”
Fire blazed in Dalton’s eyes. “First, you’re not a whiny little girl. Nor are you pathetic. What you are is someone who is fighting against demons that no one, but you know how evil theyare. You are everything I said you are and more.” He pushed some hair away from her cheek. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Aren’t you always?” Her words came out a little harsher than she planned. A chuckle escaped Dalton, surprising her.
“I guess I am.”
In that second all her anger dissipated as quickly as it flared to life. “That was a little unnecessary. What are you going to be honest about?”
