I set my coffee aside with shaking hands and bent over, putting my head between my knees.
"Oh God, I'm going to be sick."
And Gideon had seen Nathan - he'd confessed as much when he answered the detectives' questions.
If he'd seen the pictures .
been disgusted by them .
it would explain why he cut me off.
Why he'd been so tormented when he came to my bed.
He might still want me, but he might not be able to live with the images now filling his head.
It has to be this way, he'd said.
A horrible sound escaped me.
I couldn't even begin to imagine what Nathan might have captured.
I didn't want to.
No wonder Gideon couldn't stand to look at me.
When he'd made love to me the last time, it had been in utter darkness, where he could hear me and smell me and feel me - but not see me.
I stifled a scream of pain by biting my forearm.
"Baby, no!" My mother sank to her knees in front of me, urging me gently off the chair and onto the floor where she could rock me.
"Shh.
It's over.
He's dead."
I curled into her lap, sobbing, realizing it truly was over - I'd lost Gideon.
He would hate himself for turning away from me, but I understood why he might not be able to stop himself.
If looking at me now reminded him of his own brutal past, how could he stand it? How could I? My mother's hand stroked over my hair.
I felt her crying, too.
"Shh," she hushed me, her voice shaking.
"Shh, baby.
I've got you.
I'll take care of you."
Eventually there were no more tears left to cry.
I was empty, but with that emptiness came new clarity.
I couldn't change what had happened, but I could do what was necessary to make sure that no one I loved suffered for it.