steady myself.
“What do they mean to you, kitten?” The use of my pet name brightens my spirit and my chest fills with hope. It’s not lost on me that if he decides not to forgive me, he could kill me. He will kill me. It’s not just that though. I hurt him. I disappointed him. That shouldn’t affect me like this, but it does.
I jump at the opportunity to answer. And at the chance to do something and to talk to someone after spending hours alone and barely sleeping in this room. “They were my mother’s.” I wipe the sleep from my eyes and clear my throat of the knot growing there.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His words are short and simple, but I can hear the faint compassion in his voice.
“Cancer,” I answer as I stir the oatmeal. I’m hungry, but it’s not nearly as appetizing as it was before. I don’t talk much about her. I don’t like remembering.
“I know,” he says, not moving from his position. A small, sad smile forms on my face. Of course he knows.
“Do you want to play the game, kitten?” he asks.
“Yes,” I immediately answer, and I don’t even care that I sound desperate. I fucking hate that game, but I want him to stay.
“How does a girl like you wind up with a man like Lorenzo?” I hate his question. I don’t want to talk about him or think about him. I have to work hard not to show how upset it makes me.
“I just needed something different. He distracted me, I guess.” He did. I nod my head thinking about how I went from crying all day and struggling to pack up my mother’s things, to getting drunk and doing things I never thought I would.
“So you went for the bad boy.” He says the words like he’s disgusted by them, which is fucking ironic.
“It works in the books,” I barely get the words out. It’s what I really wanted. I wanted to find love. Even if he didn’t love me back at first, I was hopeful that I’d eventually find my own happily ever after. I thought I'd found a hard man who’d melt for me in time. Instead I found an abusive fuckface. 'Cause let’s be real, that’s what life gives you when you go out looking for Mr. Wrong.
“Your turn, kitten. One question.” He leans forward in his seat like he’s ready to leave, and I hate it.
I ask the one thing that’s been on my mind for hours. One thought that sickens me. I wish he’d just hit me and make that my punishment. I’d let him beat me if it meant this would be over with.
“I’m surprised you haven’t hit me,” I say. He makes no move to answer me, and there's no change in the expression on his face. He's silent for a moment.
“I don’t want to hit you,” he finally answers. And I believe him.
“Why?” I just don’t understand. Lorenzo thrived by showing me how strong he was. He fucking loved dominating me physically. I keep expecting the dams to break and for Anthony to let loose on me. I expect to be physically punished for my infractions. I'd thought he was restraining himself before, but now that I look back on it, I don’t think he was.
“I’ll never hit you. My father used to hit my mother, and it made her do bad things. I don’t want that for you or anyone else.”
“I’m so sorry.” My heart twists with agony. That’s a horrible thing to grow up with. I can’t even imagine. My own father passed away when I was younger in a car crash. I hardly remember him. I can’t imagine growing up in a house with abuse. My eyes search his, but he gives nothing away. “Bad things?” I ask tentatively.
“She beat me instead since she couldn’t hit my father back.” My mouth falls open with a gasp as he continues. “I was young, but I remember.” His voice is flat and devoid of emotion. My heart is fucking destroyed by his words.
“I’m so sorry.” I shake my head, as though I can deny the truth.
“She’s dead now.” My throat closes and dries. His life just gets sadder and sadder. I want to scoot closer to him, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want sympathy. I don’t even think he’d accept compassion.
“Did your father...?” I don’t finish, but I don’t have to. He nods his head once