Page 34 of The Woman I’ve Become

I cannot live without him.

“I’m still mad that you stood me up,” I whisper. I feel petulant even after his thorough fucking. It’s childish, I know, but I can’t help myself. “Wendy said you’re a psycho, and I should stay away from you.”

He cups my face, lifts it to his. “You think she’s right?”

I try to look away, but his hands tighten. “No,” I admit.

“Good.” He nips my lip with his teeth. “You have no idea what it’s like to want something so badly it feels like you might die without it.”

“Yes, I do! That’s how I felt when you didn’t show up. I can’t live without you.”

He breathes a sound, too subdued to be a laugh. “You’re a rich girl with the whole world in front of you. People like you can’t even imagine how it is for people like me and your trashy friend.”

“How do you know what her life is like? You’ve only met her once.”

He shakes his head. “But I know people like her. Desperate people who only have what people like you toss their way. She doesn’t want to lose you. That’s why she’s trying to turn you against me.”

“It won’t work.”

He crushes me against his chest once more. “I have never needed anyone the way I need you . . . the way I want you. But that’s the tragedy. I can’t have you—not the way I want to. Maybe that’s what makes me want you so much.”

“Then take me.” This time I bite his lip, lick the spot. “Let’s just drive away from here and never look back. We can go wherever and do whatever we want. I want you just as much as you want me. You have to know that.”

“That only happens in the movies, baby. Escaping like that takes money. Lots of money.”

I make him hard again, and this time we take it slow, so slow it’s almost painful. It’s as if this might be the last time, and he wants to make it last as long as possible. As if he knows this can’t be. Ever.

But I won’t allow that ending. I will find a way.

I will never let him leave me.

Now

16

Westport, Connecticut

I watch from the window as Olivia and Acacia wander along the shoreline. It’s one of Olivia’s favorite things to do. Tossing pebbles into the water, checking out the tiny life-forms that emerge when disturbed. She loves seeing the crustaceans that occasionally appear on the surface. Small snails and clams that wash up. It’s a world of wonder for a child her age.

She suddenly leaps from one foot to the other, her ponytail bouncing, and then she performs a classic pirouette before taking a bow. Acacia claps.

My child so loves to dance.

If only this moment could go on forever. Could be exactly what it appears. But nothing around this moment—around me, except Olivia—is what it seems. As for lasting, the past won’t allow it.

Today you’re a ballerina, he announces.

The words echo through me as the memory roars into my mind like a train bursting from a dark tunnel.

I . . . I don’t understand. Every part of me is nearly paralyzed with fear.

Put on the tutu and the shoes and dance for me, he orders.

I reach for the tutu and drag it on. I’m completely naked except for the layers off tulle and netting that form a ring around my hips. Then I slip on the ballet shoes. My whole body trembles in fear as I stand before him waiting for his next command.

Now, he says, close your eyes and dance. Twirl around the stage and imagine the spotlight follows your every move.

I swallow at the lump of terror in my throat and pinch my eyes closed. I search my brain for a memory of what ballerinas do. Then I move. Stretching and turning . . . praying that my performance will be satisfactory.