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Her head came up, eyes wide, and her swollen lips trembled. "Oh God. No, no, I don't want you to see me like this. Go away."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know. Gone. Oh please, please." She pressed her face to the tangled sheets.
"He can't be. I just came up the front stairs."
"The side entranc
e. He uses the side. He's gone, already gone. Thank God. If he'd seen you come up…"
"This has to stop." He came to the bed, gently untangled a sheet, and draped it over her. "You can't let him hurt you this way."
"He doesn't mean—He's my husband." She let out a sigh that ripped at Zeke's heart. It was so hopeless. "I have no place to go. No one to go to. He wouldn't have to hurt me if I wasn't so slow and stupid. If I'd just do what he says. If I—"
"Stop that." It came out sharper than he'd intended, and when he laid a hand on her shoulder, she flinched. "What happened here wasn't your fault, it was his."
She needed counseling, he thought. She needed cleansing. A safe place to stay. Both her body and her self-esteem had been battered, and such things harmed the soul. "I want to help you. I can take you away from here. You can stay at my sister's until you decide what to do. There are programs, people you can talk to. The police," he added. "You need to file charges."
"No. No police!" She gathered the sheet close and struggled up. Her dark violet eyes were brilliant with fear. "He'd kill me if I did. And he knows people on the force. High-up people. I can never call the police."
She'd begun to tremble, so he soothed. "That's not important now. Let me help you get dressed. Let me take you to a healer—the doctor," he corrected, remembering where he was. "Then we'll talk about what's next."
"Oh, Zeke." Her breath shuddered out as she lay her head on his shoulder. "There is no next. Don't you see this is it for me? He'll never let me go. He's told me. He's told me what he'd do to me if I try to leave. I'm just not strong enough to fight him."
He slipped his arms around her, rocked her. "I am."
"You're so young." She shook her head. "I'm not."
"That's not true. You feel helpless because you've been alone. You're not alone now. I'll help you. My family will."
He brushed at her loose and tangled hair, cloud soft under his hand. "At home, my home," he said, keeping his voice a reassuring murmur. "It's peaceful. Remember how big and open and quiet the desert is? You can heal there."
"I was almost happy for those few days. All that space. The stars. You. If I believed there was a chance—"
"Give me the chance." Gently, he tipped her face back. The bruises on her face nearly broke his heart. "I love you."
Tears swam into her eyes. "You can't. You don't know what I've done."
"Nothing he's made you do counts. And it doesn't matter what I feel, but what you need. You can't stay with him."
"I can't drag you into this, Zeke. It's wrong."
"I won't leave you." He pressed his mouth to her hair. "When you're safe, if you want me to go, I will. But not until you're safe."
"Safe." She barely breathed the word. "I stopped believing I could be safe. If there's a chance…" She drew back, looked into his eyes. "I need time to think."
"Clarissa—"
"I have to be sure I can go through with it. I have to have time. Please, try to understand. Give me today." She closed a hand over his. "He can't hurt me any more than he already has. Give me today to look inside myself and see if there's anything there worth offering you. Or anyone else."
"I'm not asking for anything."
"But I am." Her lips trembled into a smile. "Finally, I am. Will you give me a number where I can reach you? I want you to go home now. B. D. won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, and I need this time alone."
"All right. If you promise that whatever you decide, you'll call."
"I will." She picked up a memo from the bedside table and offered it. "I'll call you by tonight. I promise." When he'd entered the number, she took it from him, slipped it into the drawer. "Please, go now. I need to see how many pieces I can pick up on my own."
