Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"I didn't know how bad it was when I was in the middle of it," I continue. "All I could focus on was the fact that until he hurt me, he never hurt me. He'd throw things in my direction but never hit me with anything. He'd punch the wall beside my head. He'd keep me from leaving the room if he were yelling at me. He'd always remind me that he'd find me if I left, that there was nowhere I could go that he couldn't track me down."
"All forms of abuse," Nyx says.
"Yes," I agree. "Looking back, there were so many signs. I'm certain his father treated his mother the same way. She was a shell of a woman even the first time I met her. I fully believed that Graham was raised to own a woman rather than love her. I should've paid more attention while we were dating rather than trying to placate him in hopes that he would be a better person."
I fight the urge to look away from him. Hanging my head in shame has always been my go-to reaction. The submissiveness of the action makes my skin crawl, but it still feels like something fully ingrained in my personality.
"You don't seem shocked by anything I'm saying."
He pulls in a breath before speaking. "I do know some details about your story. The research was part of the vetting process."
I nod, understanding, but still feeling more than a little vulnerable emotionally.
"I've also been working in a field that puts a lot of what you're telling me right in my face. I've witnessed some horrific things. Things that no one should be subjected to."
"And did it change your opinion about anything?"
"What do you mean?" he asks, brows scrunching as if he's confused.
"I always thought abused women were ignorant for not leaving after the first red flag. I mean, I never had conversations with anyone about it, but I know I've read stories or seen things online and thought how stupid someone had to be to stay in a situation like that."
"A lot of people think that because they've never been in a situation like it before," he offers.
"I know that now," I say, once again looking down at my hands. "I think a lot of women get abused because they're uneducated about what is actually considered abuse. I've learned a lot in my time working at the shelters."
"And I bet you've done your best to educate as many women as you can. It's a good thing you're doing, Juliet. You're making a difference."
I look up at him, seeing the sympathy he has in his eyes, and it hits me in a way I don't like.
I've worked very hard and for a very long time to keep people from pitying me. I'm tired of being the victim, tired of sadness seeping from people because of what I've experienced.
"I think I'm going to go to bed," I tell him as I stand.
I offer him the remote, but he looks down at it before looking back up at me.
"Do you want me to leave?"
The vulnerability he sees in me doesn't sit well with me either.
No wonder the man backed away from our kiss. Who'd ever feel more than what he's feeling now about me?
"No," I tell him as I leave the room, locking the bedroom door even though I know I have no hope of getting any sleep tonight.
Chapter 29
Nyx
Juliet has always been very purposeful when she speaks.
Her words are chosen with care. Her upbringing is evident in the way she carries herself.
So it came as a surprise to me to hear the litany of cuss words that spewed from her mouth this morning when her alarm went off.
I can't recall a single other time when I heard her cuss, and it brought a smile to my face.
I don't find imperfection in her distaste for having to get up and start her day. I find it amusing and humanizing, even though her story last night hit more than one personal note for me.
The grumbling continued, every unhappy sound easily heard in the tiny apartment.
I've had my share of days where I fall asleep, what seems like minutes before the alarm goes off. There have been days I wanted to burn the world down because of it, and it seems like today is going to be one of those days for her.
Despite the way she woke up and her feelings about it, she's still gorgeous when she walks out of her bedroom.
She looks at me, thankfully without a hint of surprise in her eyes, before mumbling a good morning and heading to the kitchen.
She turns back around and looks at me.
"You made coffee?" she asks.
"I did," I tell her.
"Did you make a cup for yourself?" she asks as she opens the mostly empty cabinet to pull down a travel mug.