I dry my face and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. More cuts and bruises courtesy of John. Will I ever be rid of that man?
I flip off the light and step into the bedroom. Alex comes up behind me, wraps his hands around my waist, and clasps them in front. Tracing the curve of my neck with his lips, his warm breath tickles my skin. I rest my hands on top of his, lay my head back against his shoulder, and close my eyes.
"I should've listened to you this morning," I murmur. "I can be a bit stubborn at times, I guess—at least according to Ryan and Paul."
"That won't be a problem in the future," he chuckles. "Next time, I'll just throw some handcuffs on you and tie you to the bed." His hands tighten around my wrists.
My heart races. My breathing is erratic. Oh, God! Oh, God! Visions of blood. The cold tiles against my body, the warm blood that flowed from the deep gashes in my back.
"No!" I break free and dart across the room. Stumbling forward, I hit my shin on the chair.
I can't breathe. The room spins out of control. I suck in large gulps of air, but it's useless.
I have to get out of here. My knees buckle, and I crumble to the floor.
Alex bolts across the room, and he grabs me before my head slams into the corner of the small table.
"Shit, Kylie." He wraps me in his embrace.
I thrash against him. "Let me go."
"Kylie, it's okay. I've got you." His arms tighten around me. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe, baby."
Exhaustion overtakes me, and I slump against him.
"John." My body shudders as his name leaves my lips.
"No, baby. John's not here. It's just you and me, Kylie." He rocks me back and forth and rests his chin on the top of my head. "You're safe. John will never hurt you again." His voice is quiet, soft, and steady.
I bury my face into Alex's chest.
John can't hurt me here. I'm safe.
All I hear is John's voice in my head. "You will always be mine."
Rocking me back and forth, kissing my head, Alex tries to soothe me while all the agony and torture assault my body and mind once again. The tears flow, wave after wave, until I slump against him.
"Baby, tell me what just happened, tell me what I did." Alex's whispered voice fills my ears.
Carefully moving his hands to the sides of my face, he tries to lift my eyes to meet his, but I can't stand to look into them and have my shame reflected back at me.
"I can't, Alex. It's not you. It's him. I don't want you to know all the things I let John do to me."
"Kylie, you can tell me anything." His voice is soft, and his breath whispers across my cheek.
"You won't look at me the same. You won't want me. I'm so broken, Alex."
I try to pull my face away from his grasp, but he refuses to let go. Instead, he moves closer to me, his cheek against mine.
"Nothing you say could ever make me leave. Nothing. I want you, Kylie. No matter what, I want to be with you. Please let me in. Let me help you get past this."
Get past it? It’s what I’ve wanted to for so long, but never dreamed I would be able to do. Even now, I wonder how I will speak the words, out loud, left up for judgment. But Alex is here, and I’m so tired of keeping this secret—this burden—all to myself.
There's no going back, too much has been let out, but it doesn't make it any easier to take the next step and reveal the deepest, darkest secret of my life. I want to remain the woman who first stirred feelings and desires in Alex, the woman who is strong and stands up to him. But he is about to see that I'm weak, so very weak, and not at all the woman he thinks I am.
"I don't want you to know, Alex. Please, leave it alone. Let me be the person you think I am."
"You are that person, baby, no matter what you tell me. You will always be the woman I want to be with. I only want to help you get through this, so it doesn't haunt you anymore. Please believe me," he says, caressing my face, wiping the tears away.
There is something in his eyes, something that makes me trust him, and I want to release the hurt and pain.
"It's so hard. I never thought I would become one of those women.” I take a deep breath. “Abused."
Alex tenses next to me.
"It happened so subtly. I'm not sure how I didn't see it until it was too late."
Alex sits in front of me, his fingers entwined with mine. He's quiet, patient, and just what I need.
"At first, John and I were a typical couple. After a few months, John seemed to get...I don't know...restless. He told me he wanted to spice up our sex life a bit. Nothing too heavy—handcuffs, blindfolds, things like that." I lift my eyes enough to see Alex, expecting signs of disgust on his face.
He remains impassive, gentle, waiting for me to continue.
"Soon, instead of it being an occasional diversion from the ordinary, it occurred every time we had sex. And he would make it rougher, more painful. The handcuffs would be too tight and leave marks. He would intentionally yank my head back and pull hair from my head. After a while, even that wasn't enough to satisfy him, and he started adding new things, implements that produced pain. Things I never agreed to." I shift slightly and lift my head, my gaze meeting his.
"He would insist on sex with his new toys every day. When I refused, he'd push me down, and then he'd kick and slap me until it was just easier for me to give in. He isolated me from everyone—especially Ryan and Paul. He threatened my career. Told me if I ever told anyone, they would laugh at me, that no one would ever believe me. He said people would think I was a slut, especially after he told them I had begged for it."
I look to my lap, twisting my hands, the tips of my fingers vacillating between dark red and ghostly white. I inhale deeply, raggedly.
"He'd get off when I begged him to stop. The louder the screams, the bigger his fucking smile would get and the rougher he would get with me. One day, he came home with a black leather flogger that had these heavy pea-sized spiky balls on the ends. It scared the shit out of me, and I refused to allow him to use it. I told him I was done, that I was leaving. I didn't care what people might think, and he backed off for a little while."
Alex’s muscles and veins strain in his neck and upper body. It feels comforting and protective to share my pain, but I know it's killing him to hear what was done to me.
"I remember getting out of the shower one morning and looking at myself in the mirror. I had another new bruise, on my shoulder, and I was glad it wasn’t somewhere visible. My top would cover it." I shake my head, still unable to believe how I had let myself get to a point where my boyfriend leaving inconspicuous bruises on me was acceptable. "I just stood there...staring at myself, wondering what the hell happened to me.”
I took in a deep breath, hoping it would calm me, but knowing nothing would help except to get it all out.
"Things started going better, but I could tell John was getting restless again. He was irritable and moody. I knew it wouldn't be long before he demanded torture sex. I couldn't do it. The thought of spending one more minute with him made me ill. So, I packed all my stuff, everything. I never wanted to step foot back in his house again.
"When he came into the room, I told him I was through, and it was over. He flew into a rage—pushing me, calling me names, and telling me to get the fuck out of his home—and then he stormed out of the room.
"He came back a few minutes later, calmer, begging me to stay. I didn't look at him or speak. I just kept my back to him and continued to pack. I didn't want to argue or fight. I just wanted to leave.”
The memory replayed in my head. My heart ripped apart the same way it had that night, and every night after until I locked it all away. Tears flowed hot and heavy down my face. I swiped at them with the back of my hand, but it made no difference.
"He came up behind me. I thought he was going to hug me, but he grabbed my arm and swung me around so quickly I had no idea what was happening. Before I could get my bearings, he had one handcuff around my wrist and then the other one. I don't even remember them going on, just the sound of the clicks as he tightened them. God, I can still hear them. They seemed so loud at the time."
Alex pales as he makes the correlation between his innocent, playful act of restraint that caused my breakdown moments earlier.
"He dragged me into the bathroom and threw me onto the floor. He sat on top of me so that I couldn't get up, and put a zip tie around my ankles. It was so tight I felt it digging into my skin. I knew he intended to leave marks. He loved leaving marks on me. It was a claim of ownership or something. He looped a leather belt through the chain of the handcuffs and hauled me over to the shower. He had an industrial steel bar as a shower curtain rod. He would do pull-ups on it in the mornings when he woke up. I just stood there, my ankles bound together. It took everything in me not to fall over. Then, he slung the belt over the pull-up bar...and strung me up."
My head drops, my breathing mixed with sobs, tears soaking my cheeks, the front of my shirt, dripping steadily onto the comforter.
I just have to get through it—exorcise the demons—and deal with the fallout later.
"He yanked my pants down around my ankles and then ripped off my shirt. He cut the straps of my bra with one of his hunting knives. I was crying so hard, begging him to please just let me go. He said all I needed was some schooling. Once I had been properly trained with all his new toys, I would understand why it was so important to him, and I would want to please him. He told me he was going to start with my favorite, and I knew he meant that flogger because it had terrified me from the first minute he showed it to me. He ran it over me, lightly at first. Then, he just started whipping me with it." My voice is shaky, tremors run through me like a seven-point-magnitude earthquake.
I can't stop. I'm so close.
"I have never felt pain like that in my life. Every hit was like a thousand hornets stinging me all at once, all across my back. I could feel my skin tearing. It was on fire. I was screaming for him to stop, but he just kept hitting me over and over. It seemed to go on forever. I was sure he was going to beat me to death. At one point, I begged God to just let me die quickly, so I wouldn't have to feel the pain anymore.
"After a while, I lost my voice and couldn't scream anymore. I couldn't even hold my head up. Everything was spinning, and I felt as if I were in a dark tunnel."
I raise my head but look past Alex at nothing. The memory of that day is playing out in vivid color. The fear, the knowledge that I had no control over my own life, and the acceptance that I was going to die.
My breathing slows a bit, but I continue to stare into the empty space. "And that's when he stopped. He cut the tie from around my ankles and released the belt, letting me drop to the shower floor. I couldn't move or speak. I think I was holding my breath, just waiting for whatever was coming next. But, mostly, I really, really just wanted to die. He took the handcuffs off me, and then he left. Walked out without a word and just left me there, on the floor like a piece of trash.
"I'm not really sure how long I was there, but at some point, I became coherent enough to figure out that was probably only round one. I knew he wouldn't kill me right away. He would wait until he used all his toys on me, and then he would let me die—or force me to live.
"I pulled myself up. There was so much blood on the floor, all over me. I pulled my pants up and wrapped a jacket around me. I managed to walk— maybe due to adrenaline? I don't know, but I crept downstairs. I guess I was too scared of dying in that bathroom, alone. Or scared of whatever round two was going to be. Beating me apparently took a lot out of John, too, because I found him passed out, sound asleep in the recliner. I grabbed my keys and just ran. Somehow, I ended up in a hotel...and at some point, Ryan and Paul were there."
Alex looks away from me, and murmurs, "I'll kill that motherfucker."
It's over.
Everything is out—all my demons exposed. Alex will leave me, and I can't blame him. I'm broken. Tainted. And John is still coming after me. His actions continue to escalate. He's no longer simply harassing and stalking me. He's abusing me. Protecting me is becoming a full-time job. I can't blame Alex for wanting out. After what I just revealed, how will he ever look at me the same way?
He grasps my hands in between his. "You are the bravest person I know, Kylie Tate. John nearly killed you, but you survived. That takes an incredible amount of strength, and every day you take a step toward your dreams and away from him makes you heroic. I'm in awe of you."
I shake my head. "I'm not strong, Alex. I let him hit me, mark me. I never reported any of it, and I kept going back to him for months. He got away with it. And now, I'm still allowing him to control me." My voice drops to a whisper. "He knew I wouldn't want you to find out about this, that I’d do anything to keep you from finding out I'm damaged."
Alex places his forehead against mine. "Don't ever say you're damaged. You're beautiful, smart, and resilient. You did nothing wrong, Kylie. He manipulated you. He made you believe you were the sick one. He is a monster and a predator. Your energy and stability are probably what attracted him. You were—and remain—a challenge. He wants to control you, to break you. And if he can't have you, he is willing to destroy you."
He lifts my chin until our eyes meet.
"But he can't destroy you, baby. You got out and broke the cycle by not going back. Those scars on your back are not marks of shame. They're evidence that you're a fighter. You're amazing, Kylie, and I'm so proud of you."
Tears flow down my cheeks. But I can't speak. His words are like an elixir that fill my wounded heart, dull the pain, and heal the deep cuts in my soul.
He stands and pulls me up with him. "Come on. It's been an exhausting night for you. Let's get you into bed."
I lean in and kiss him. I want the pain to go away. I want Alex. I need him to make me feel something other than shame.
I grasp the back of his head and attempt to deepen the kiss. He pulls his mouth away and steps back.
"I'm sorry," I say, and cross my arms across my chest. "That was presumptuous of me. I—"
Alex tugs at my arms and drags me against his body. Fire burns in his eyes—not rage, like I've seen before—but passion. "I have wanted you since the day I met you. But I won't take advantage of you while you're vulnerable."
A tidal wave of emotion floods me. I feared he would turn away from me when he learned my secret shame, but he's here. The truth is, though I may have unburdened myself of the facts, the horror of what John did to me remains.
"I don't want memories of John to be all I have. I want to remember what it's like to feel pleasure, not pain or humiliation. I want new memories–with you."
We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. In one swift, fluid motion, he grabs the back of my head, and his lips crash against mine. His tongue invades my mouth, and explores every part, sensual and urgent as it twists with mine.
His back muscles are solid and powerful, his skin smooth as I drag my fingertips over every dip and bulge. He tenses at my touch, and the burning desire raging within me escalates.
I want him inside me. I need him to chase away the memories of twisted sexual encounters in my past.
He guides me to the bed, and I lower onto it. Alex glides over the top of me, leveraging his upper body with his arms. With every movement of his body with mine, light replaces the darkness in my heart and soul. Our bodies are in sync—all pleasure and healing. Nothing dark or dangerous. Only the two of us exist in this moment, bright and exciting.
Alex slowly revives me, reminding me of the joys of intimacy, as he dims the fear of pain and control. We climb together, and I cannot remember feeling so close to another person in my life.
"Kylie," he calls to me, but the way he says it sounds like an answered prayer.
He feels so damn good, but it's the sound of my name on his lips, and the look on his face—a mix of pleasure and happiness—that finally pushes me over the edge.
I shatter around him, and the release is so much more than physical. The fear of what is coming next, what new type of torture I will have to endure flows out me. There's no panic or anxiety. Only shared ecstasy and a sense of dignity.
Wave after wave of shudders move through his body. The movement slows, but we stay connected.
His eyes peer into mine, serious but sensual. "I needed this as much as you. I wanted to feel—not just do. No one has ever made me feel, Kylie."
I didn't consider Alex's lack of experience with anyone. I needed a connection to him, to feel pleasure through intimacy, instead of pain. It never occurred to me that Alex had never had this, either, and that he wanted and needed to heal in his own way.
"Another first," I murmur. "For both of us."
I'm exhausted and spent. He rests his head on my chest, and I run my fingers through his hair, moist with sweat.
"Mmm," Alex moans. "That feels good."
He lifts his head and gazes at me, and I smile, lost in the contentment and exhilaration in his eyes.
"That was amazing," he says.
"Yes, it was."
I'm so close to him in this moment, maybe even closer than I am to Ryan and Paul. I let the memories out, shared the burden with him, and he didn’t run for the hills. He's here, helping me heal.
How did this happen?
Alex rolls onto his side, and we lie together, eyes locked on one another.
"Thank you, Alex," I whisper.
He brushes the hair from my eyes and smiles. "I'm here for you, Kylie. I'll always be here. John will never hurt you like that again." He caresses my face, his gaze never leaving mine. "You're safe."
Lightly brushing his lips across mine, he soothes me with his kisses. My head reels. It all seems like the perfect dream. One I never want to wake from.
He gently grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You realize, of course, now that we've done that, I might never let you leave my bed. That was intense."
"You're going to hold me captive? Force me to have lots of mind-blowing sex with you?"
"Mind-blowing?" He quirks an eyebrow.
"Curl-your-toes, sell-your-soul-to-the-devil mind-blowing."
He grins, and his eyes light up, the blue more brilliant. "I could grow to love sleepovers with you, Miss Tate."
He leans in and softly kisses me. We smile at each other, simply lost in one another.
"So, boyfriend? Do I get a say in this?"
Alex rolls onto his back and pulls me to him. "Not really. You should just go with it. There is no way I'm giving you up."
After my confession and the intimacy we've shared, boyfriend doesn't come close to how I feel about him. Confidant, lover. Protector. He's in my heart, and a part of my soul. But I don't trust promises or romantic revelations. Actions speak louder than words.
Maybe Alex will prove me wrong. I have no doubt that he genuinely believes what he's saying, but most people have great intentions when promises are made. I've been disappointed so many times by the words people say, declarations that always end up being contradictory to their actions.
I'm trying to accept Alex at his word and give him the benefit of the doubt, but this swell of affection may not be enough to carry him through.
Is this truly what he wants, or is he just enthralled by the romanticism?