Page 47 of Eternal

“Yeah, I know, Serena. I want to see him suffer too,” I whisper, hugging her in the middle of the bathroom.

We walk out together and find Soren and Abe in the foyer.

“Freya, take care of yourself.” Abe nods to me, grabbing Serena’s hand.

“I will, Abe. You take care of yourself and Serena.”

Serena hugs me once again and whispers her goodbyes in my ear. They turn to leave the house, leaving Soren and I alone again.

"Could you tell me about you and Abe's relationship?"

"What? Are you jealous?" I smirk at him.

This dumbass is jealous.

"It depends. Why is he so important to you? You've alluded to him saving your life several times, but never really went into detail," Soren explains as he guides us to the living room.

"Why am I the one to always spill my guts, but you never tell me anything about you?"

Soren lets out a breathy laugh. "I mean we can go back and forth on this, eventually one of us will have to crack. I'll tell you my story soon. I promise."

He holds out his pinky finger with a smirk. I stare at the ring on his hand for a moment, before leaning over and taking his pinky in mine.

I clear my throat. "As you know, Abe was hired on as Serena's bodyguard, because she was on a destructive path. But he found me the night I was dying." Soren's face darkens, not realizing how deep this gets. "He wouldn't let Serena into the bedroom where I was because of bad it was. He stayed with me for the first three months after moving into my apartment in Seattle. He showed me that there are kind men in the world. After growing up with my father, then Tristan, I was conditioned for a while to believe men were horrible. I'm not going to get into any more detail than that. I was fucked up after, and Serena was a fucking mess still, so Abe pulled us both out of a dark hole."

Soren's lips are pressed together. "Thank you."

"Still jealous?" I tease him.

"No. I feel like I have to thank him more than anything else now. I appreciate you making me feel like an ass towards him," Soren mutters.

"Anytime," I beam up at him.

Soren chuckles as he presses a kiss to my forehead before retreating to his office. I stand shortly after and trudge to the bedroom. Curling up the cold sheets, I wished Soren was here to warm me. Keep me company and keep my demons at bay.

Alone, again, I drift off.

The beginning of the night had been exactly like how I’d want a date to go, the kind of date you dreamed of when you were young and in love. He brought home flowers for me, surprising me with an impromptu dinner and movie date. He was sweet, tentative. If only I was still in love with him.

To anyone looking from the outside in, he was the devoted, doting, picture-perfect boyfriend, the one girls prayed to have. But everyone conveniently missed the bruises lining my neck, lingering on my skin from the night before when he had me pressed up against the wall all because I had sighed. They miss how I choke on almost every little bite I take because my neck is too sore, they miss the way he’s watching my every move, eyes glued, just daring me to step out of place.

They miss that this date is anapologyfor last night. Sort of.

It’s the same vicious cycle over and over, and yet. Yet, I find myself staying. I can’t find it in myself to return back to home. I don’t love him, but there’s nowhere else to go. Not like I have any way of contacting my family. Tristan hasn’t given me a phone, or a car, and keeps 24-hour surveillance on our townhouse at all times.

Tristan’s arm is wrapped around my waist like a vice grip as we navigate out of the theater. A group of teenage boys hang around the exit as they snicker and look around, ogling at the girls walking by. When we make it to the car, he opens the door for me, and the fingers on my waist dig in hard as he shoves me into the passenger seat. The door slams shut just as my foot enters the car.

I could’ve screamed. I could’ve asked for help. I could’ve… I could’ve. But I didn’t.

Tristan climbs into the driver’s side and slams his door shut as well. His jaw is tight as he stares at the building in front of us.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, wondering if I did something wrong to upset him. Did I accidentally step on his toe? Did I speak to someone when I wasn’t supposed to? Or perhaps it was the group of boys staring at my bare legs in this skirt. I wore it because he asked me to. Told me it’d be easier access later.

“Do you know what you did, Freya?” Each word comes out clipped.

“Yes,” I answer by keeping my eyes on my lap.

“What did you do?” Tristan is challenging me.

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