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“That’s bullshit.”
“He would make comments here and there about my writing and how I should be looking for a real job,” I said. “Conor, you know me. I’ve got a smart mouth and I had no problem calling him out on his shit.”
Silence fell between us.
“Then one night, I called him an asshole.” I glanced down again. “And, well, he smacked me.”
Conor growled out a breath but didn’t interrupt me.
Now that I had started talking, I was going to purge it all. I had to get it all out of me.
“I swear, I left him when he did that. I kicked him out of my apartment. He left for about a week, and then he started texting me. Telling me how sorry he was and that he would never do that again.
I toyed with my cup.
“At some point, after numerous texts and attempts to see me, I broke down and went to see him. It was like when we first started dating. He was sweet and caring. Eventually, I made the mistake and forgave him.”
“Fuck,” he whispered without judgement.
“Once that happened, he had control,” I said. “I wish I could explain how it happened, but I just can’t. Somehow, I lost myself. His words beat me down and my self-esteem was gone. One night after a fight we had, I was in a group text with you and Finn . . . we were joking around. You guys were texting about girls you were with or hooking up with. Do you remember that?”
Conor just shrugged.
“Anyway, Brad saw a text that came through about a sexy ass, and he thought Ryan was texting me.”
“Fuck,” Conor interrupted with a growling.
I squeezed his hand to try and calm him. “That night was bad, Conor. It was the start of things really getting bad. He smacked me so hard that I flew off the sofa and landed on the floor. He got on top of me and hit me again, and then he dragged me to the bedroom, and he—”
“Stop! Fucking stop,” Conor snapped, throwing the stool he just jumped off across the room, hitting the coffee table. “Did he, did he . . .”
Conor couldn’t finish, and I knew what he was asking. He was asking if he had raped me that night. At the time, I was so broken inside that I just let him, and I didn’t believe it was rape given that we were in a relationship, for god’s sake, but now, I knew I could admit what it was.
“Yes, he raped me,” I whispered. More tears formed in my eyes and ran down my cheeks.
“Kenna? Conor? Is everything okay?” Chrissy asked with concern.
Neither one of us noticed Chrissy had entered the room.
Conor looked between us and asked, “Are you going to work?”
Chrissy immediately took the hint and grabbed her purse and keys. “Yeah. I’m heading out now.” She looked at me with sympathy in her eyes. “Uhm, Kenna, do you want me to stay? I can call into work.”
“No, n-no. It’s okay. We’re good.”
Without another word, Chrissy left, leaving us alone with this bomb I had dropped in the middle of her kitchen. Neither one of us said a word. Conor just stood at the slider, looking out at the palm trees that lined the building.
I wasn’t sure how long we remained silent, but at some point, Conor made his way over to where I stood and wrapped his arms around me. He held me. Conor didn’t ask any more questions, nor did I continue my purge. Instead, I just let him hold me until he dragged me to the sofa, holding the rest of the morning.
By around noon, my stomach started to make noises.
Conor chuckle. “Hungry?”
“Mmm,” I hummed.
“How about you go get dressed and we go grab lunch?” Conor asked.
I was not about to argue all I had was a half a cup of coffee I was dehydrated and hungry. I jumped up not saying a word ran to get dressed and quickly brushed my teeth and hair. We were out the door in less than fifteen minutes.
