Page 114 of Nyx

"I chose places that weren't advertised. The ones you had to know someone to get into because I knew those would be harder to find. I mean, I understand that most of those places, by design, are non-profit organizations, and anyone with minimal knowledge could do a quick online search for their registrations. But it felt safer to me than working anywhere else."

"I think it was a very smart decision," he says, an edge to his tone that makes me think he's annoyed that places like that have to exist in the first place. "It had to have been hard to leave home."

I shake my head. "It was somehow the easiest and hardest decision of my life. I know that doesn't make much sense."

"It makes perfect sense," he says. "I know what you mean."

I swallow, a bubble of pain and loss swelling in my throat.

"I've spent so many hours wondering how things might've been different if I had only made different choices," I say as I look up at him. "I didn't tell him I was pregnant. Would it have been different if he had known?"

He leans forward in the recliner, elbows resting on his knees. "No, Juliet. You may not have been hurt that day, but abusive men don't stop just because children are involved."

"The courts made me look like an evil person. What kind of woman lies about being pregnant? If I didn't tell him such big news, then what am I lying about to get him in trouble? I think even the prosecutor believed that it was my fault that I lost the babies."

I watch his face and see no sign of surprise. He already knew I was pregnant, that the twins didn't survive the attack. All I did was tell them my real name. If they had even done a small amount of research after I left that interview, they would've found all the ugly details of my past.

"You did what you thought was best," he assures me.

"And it came with catastrophic consequences," I mutter.

He sits in silence, and I'm grateful he doesn't point blame or tell me it could've always ended that way, even if I had made different choices. People can try to help with words, but they never seem to land the way they want them to.

"I didn't know how bad it was when I was in the middle of it," I continue. "All I could focus on was the fact that until he hurt me, he never hurt me. He'd throw things in my direction but never hit me with anything. He'd punch the wall beside my head. He'd keep me from leaving the room if he were yelling at me. He'd always remind me that he'd find me if I left, that there was nowhere I could go that he couldn't track me down."

"All forms of abuse," Nyx says.

"Yes," I agree. "Looking back, there were so many signs. I'm certain his father treated his mother the same way. She was a shell of a woman even the first time I met her. I fully believed that Graham was raised to own a woman rather than love her. I should've paid more attention while we were dating rather than trying to placate him in hopes that he would be a better person."

I fight the urge to look away from him. Hanging my head in shame has always been my go-to reaction. The submissiveness of the action makes my skin crawl, but it still feels like something fully ingrained in my personality.

"You don't seem shocked by anything I'm saying."

He pulls in a breath before speaking. "I do know some details about your story. The research was part of the vetting process."

I nod, understanding, but still feeling more than a little vulnerable emotionally.

"I've also been working in a field that puts a lot of what you're telling me right in my face. I've witnessed some horrific things. Things that no one should be subjected to."

"And did it change your opinion about anything?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, brows scrunching as if he's confused.

"I always thought abused women were ignorant for not leaving after the first red flag. I mean, I never had conversations with anyone about it, but I know I've read stories or seen things online and thought how stupid someone had to be to stay in a situation like that."

"A lot of people think that because they've never been in a situation like it before," he offers.

"I know that now," I say, once again looking down at my hands. "I think a lot of women get abused because they're uneducated about what is actually considered abuse. I've learned a lot in my time working at the shelters."

"And I bet you've done your best to educate as many women as you can. It's a good thing you're doing, Juliet. You're making a difference."

I look up at him, seeing the sympathy he has in his eyes, and it hits me in a way I don't like.

I've worked very hard and for a very long time to keep people from pitying me. I'm tired of being the victim, tired of sadness seeping from people because of what I've experienced.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I tell him as I stand.

I offer him the remote, but he looks down at it before looking back up at me.