Page 109 of The Love You Fight For
“I don’t care what you did,” I say honestly, and she shakes her head again. “I don’t care, Sam. I don’t care.”
She cries harder, and all I can do is gather her to my chest and rock back and forth. She feels so small. So fragile. She feels broken, and tears spring to my eyes, too.
“Who did it, Sam? Who did this to you?”
She buries her face in my neck. Her tears gather on my shoulder, trickling down my bare chest. She doesn’t stop crying.
“I’m so sorry, Chris. I’m so, so sorry.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to fix it. All I can do is hold her.
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper into her hair. “It’s not your fault. I don’t hate you. I would never hate you.”
“He kissed me,” she sobs. “He kissed me. He touched me. He ripped my dress.”
My heart thunders so hard in my chest, echoing in my head. My blood rushes in my veins, carrying my rage through my extremities. I want to kill him. I want him dead.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, and I mean it.
“I drugged his drink. He passed out before...before...but he...”
She chokes on more words, but she can’t get them out. Theshame and guilt I hear in her voice are so heartbreaking that the tears welling in my eyes finally fall.
“Shhh, baby. It’s not your fault. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers again.
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I did. I did. I went to his house. I wore the low-cut dress. I let him...I made him think...but he went too fast. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He was supposed to drink the drink. He was supposed to fall asleep before...before...”
She hiccups on another sob. She holds on to me like a lifeline. Like she thinks I’m going to kick her out. Like she thinks I’m going to hate her.
“Princess, listen to me. I could never hate you. I do not hate you. I’m not angry with you. I don’t blame you. You did nothing wrong here, okay? This is not your fault.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” she says through her tears. “What if I did all of it and it was for nothing? What if I’ve wasted years of my life, whittled myself down to raw nerves, and it was all pointless?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to answer that.
“I’m here,” I tell her. “We’ll figure it out together. I’m here. Just rest, okay? Just rest.”
She starts to calm, her sobs growing quieter until it’s just soft sniffles, but her tears don’t stop, and her hold on me doesn’t loosen. I don’t let her go, either. I don’t stop rubbing her back or smoothing down her hair. I don’t stop whispering to her.
I’m here.
You’re safe now.
I could never, ever hate you.
It’s not your fault.
When her breathing evens, I think she might have fallen asleep, so I stand gently and carry her to my bedroom. I lay her on the bed and pull the comforter up around her, and then she opens her eyes.
“I don’t think I can do it anymore,” she says, her voice shaky. “I don’t think I can go back there.”
Her will is broken. Her spirit is shattered.
“I’m so sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry.”
