Page 42 of Eternal

I know I can’t run away from it forever. But my story with Tristan has nothing to do with what he’s hiding. This is where the rubber is going to meet the road. If I don’t tell him, then where are we going to be in a week from now? Fighting again?

“Uh, well, I don’t really know where to start.” I sputter, trying to figure out how to cushion how our relationship was.

“The beginning, and don’t fucking hold back, Freya. I want to know every detail.”

I gulp and look down, suddenly self-conscious that I would retell this story naked. I start to get dressed, and Soren waits patiently.

“We started dating my freshman year of college after we met at a frat party. He was in his first year of medical school. Our relationship started perfectly. He was compassionate and showed me how to love myself for the first time in my life.”

I notice Soren holding a breath as I start to bare my soul to him. He nods in encouragement.

“It was about six months into our relationship when it started to change. His behavior, I mean. It started small, nothing in the grand scheme of things. Just emotional and mental abuse. Breaking me down even further when I told him I wasn't sure I was on the right path in life. He convinced me to move in with him and take a break from school. The same night I agreed to move in with him, he took my virginity…. That was the first time he forced himself onto me. The only time I’ve ever had consensual sex was with you.” I took a shaky breath, eyeing him for a reaction, before continuing. “Every single time he raped me, it would get rougher and rougher, to the point where it was physically too painful for me. He wouldn’t come home until very late at night most nights. He started drinking heavily and started using cocaine. When he was high, he became violent. So there were many nights where he physically abused me.”

Soren starts to vibrate with anger, his hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. I continued; he wanted to know what happened, then he would hear every horrendous part of it.

“He would throw me down the stairs, give me black eyes, break my fingers, none of which you’ll find in my medical records because he was in medical school. He was able to put me back to normal and continue using and abusing me. No one knew what was happening in that little townhouse of horrors because I never went outside, even before the abuse started. I was just an object, a plaything for him to use when he pleased. He’d offer up my pussy for a night to pay off his drug dealer. He forced me to sleep with his coworkers while he watched when he lost stupid bets, ” I trail off.

Soren starts to speak, but I raise a hand to stop him. He stops immediately.

I take a deep breath. “I lived through this for nearly three years.”

That knocks the wind out of Soren as he looks at me with vengeful eyes.

“Those years taught me a lot about myself. They taught me about the strength I have inside me and the fight too.” I pause for a moment, “I suppose it also taught me how much pent-up rage I have in me. I want nothing more than to see him dead, but I want to be the one to do it. It’d be poetic justice if I was his reckoning, you know?” I give him a crooked, sad smile. “Serena found me after I had been roughly fucked, and left for whatever life would bring me next. She helped me into my apartment in Seattle and did her best to help cover up my past life. My parents took no action, but Serena says she still can’t find him.”

That gets his attention, and he leans forward. “What’s his last name?”

I look to the side, deciding if I want to tell him. Sorenwillfind Tristan. That’s the difference between Serena’s investigations and his.

I look back at him with sad eyes. “Bristol.”

IknowI’ve sentenced him to death.

Soren sits back and crosses his arms over his muscular chest. We just stare at each other, the trauma I’ve had to dredge up is suffocating me, and he knows it.

“Why didn’t you leave him?” Soren's question comes out slowly like he’s afraid to ask the question.

Tears well up in my eyes as I recall the first time I tried. How scared I was.

“I did. I attempted once and successfully escaped on the second try. The first time, Tristan found me as I was packing the important things to me, and he knew I was trying to leave then. I suspect it was the security guy he had hired who called him saying there was more movement in the home than normal. It wasn’t as simple as getting up and walking out of the door, Soren. I had too many eyes on me, and no one to turn to for help.”

“Your sister or family would’ve helped you.”

I shake my head, “No, she couldn’t the first time. The first time--” I sigh, “The first time I tried to leave I was planning to escape on foot since I couldn’t get a hold of her. I, later on, found out that it was because she had been put into rehab due to alcoholism. She was going down a dark path in her early college years. The second time though, she did help. Her and Abe were the ones who found me. Tristan left me chained to our bed when he was called in for an emergency at work.”

Soren stays quiet as he processes all the information I’ve given him. Pieces of my traumatic past that I can’t seem to move past.

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask softly.

I so desperately want to move past this conversation I dredge up the most boring question.

Soren’s face changes, almost taken aback by my question. “Black. Yours?”

“Mine too.” I smile softly and sadly.

Then Soren asks the following question I wasn’t prepared for. “Why didn’t you turn him in?”

My eyes flicker up to the chandelier. “I was afraid of what would happen if I did. I was afraid of the retaliation from him, his family, and what the cops would uncover about my family. I doubt any normal cop would do anything. They rarely do anything for cases like mine,” I say simply.

---