Page 117 of Play Dirty

Those were dark days, and I’m still embarrassed about how I behaved, so focused on pleasing Damien I didn’t see how I was pushing away my friends. Thank goodness Chey didn’t just walk away once I started doing everything Damien asked of me.

Luckily, even though he has four witnesses, their testimony is all quick and mostly inane, despite portraying me as a party girl who drove Damien crazy with my wild ways. Drove him to do something drastic. Drove himinsane.

By the time we break for lunch I’m in tears.

“I need a minute,” I whisper, rushing to the bathroom.

I get to the toilet in time to heave up the contents of my stomach and then put a hand on the wall for support. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I’m supposed to be the victim.

Iamthe victim.

He attacked me and essentially changed the course of my life.

I can’t ever have a child because of him.

I’m emotionally scarred because of him.

He fucking broke me, and now they’re making me out to be the perpetrator.

A sob escapes me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to find even a modicum of the strength I’ve been working on the last eleven months.

I hear footsteps and try to tamp down my sobs but I can’t.

“Babe.”

The voice is absolutely not female.

Who the hell is in the bathroom?

I feel a moment of alarm.

“Babe, it’sme. Open the door, honey.”

Chapter37

Marty

There’swhat feels like a long hesitation before I hear the lock disengage and the door to the stall slowly opens.

Stevie’s face is coated with tears, her eyes red, as she stares at me.

So I just open my arms.

And she launches herself into them.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, letting her cry against my chest.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be all right.”

She mumbles something unintelligible, but it doesn’t matter.

“Shh.” I stroke her hair with one hand and keep the other firmly around her waist. “You’re going to be okay.”

When her sobs finally subside and she’s a little calmer, she slowly lifts her head.

“Wh-what are you…doing here?” she whispers.

“I thought you might need a hug,” I say simply.

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