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“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
“As long as I let him…” My throat closes up, making it impossible to speak.
“If you let him do what?”
“You know what.”
“I don’t like to assume, but this is where I am right now. The bruises on your wrists tell me he restrains you—or that you let him restrain you—the marks on your throat, however, tell me he does something far more dangerous. You’re capable of making your own decisions, but if he’s threatening you, and forcing you to do something you haven’t consented to, this has to stop. If he’s choking you, you’re in serious danger. Life-threatening danger. I’m not going to be able to walk away from that.”
“No.”
“What do you mean byNo?”
“I let him… It’s my choice.”
“Coercion is not a choice. It’s not consent.” He drags his hand down his face, pausing to collect his thoughts, then he fixes me with his piercing gaze. “I’m going to speak clearly, and I do this as someone who considers myself a dominant male. I know many couples with very healthy relationships who are in stable, consensual dynamics. Consent forms the foundation for any power exchange. Safety is paramount. It’s non-negotiable. Risk is assessed and consent given free from coercion.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Luv, I know more about what’s happening than you know. Just answer one question. Will you do that for me?”
“I can’t promise when I don’t know if I can answer honestly.”
“Fair enough, and thank you. Honesty is crucial to trust and I want you to trust me as much as I want to trust you.”
I sniff and feel my heart rate dropping. With Zeb, I feel safe. I don’t feel this way with Scott.
“Here’s my question. Be as honest as you can. All this time, when you said you were going to the library to study, were you at the library?”
I can’t look at him. I can’t admit the truth.
“Okay. Let me ask a different question. Were you with him?” Zeb refuses to accept my silence.
“Yes.”
“Will you answer a few more questions? You don’t have to, but I really hope you do.”
“I don’t know if I can.” I feel so incredibly defeated, but I don’t want to disappoint Zeb.
“Fair enough. Did you go back because of his threats?”
“Yes.” My response is barely audible. Spoken so low, I’m not sure if I said it, or thought it.
“Against you?”
“Yes.” This time, my voice is firmer and a bit louder, and I really hope he stops here.
“Did he threaten anyone else?”
Damn.
I close my eyes because this is the one question I don’t want to answer. It’s the one that makes me sick to my stomach and makes me want to curl into a tiny ball until I disappear.
His brows tug together with thought, but the moment he figures it out his entire body completely relaxes. It’s terrifying watching the change overcome him. Voice deadly calm, and absent of any emotion, his words send a chill rushing through me.
“He threatened your roommates.”
