Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
She breaks down, quietly trying to collect herself as she reaches for a napkin and dabs at her face. All I can do is watch as I’m forced to confront what she just told me. That wasn’t the Adam I knew. And out of loyalty, a part of me wants to say it’s all bullshit and walk the hell away. But the truth is that night has haunted me long after she disappeared and left me to wonder. I knew something happened to her. There was never any question about that. Not once did I ever think Adam could have been involved, but as I dissect the conversations I had with him after, I can’t help the seed of doubt that plants itself in my mind.
He didn’t want me to pursue it. He warned me not to, going so far as to say Tori might accuse me of wrongdoing. At the time, I thought he was just being a prick, but now that uncertainty eats at me. When I look at Tori, I don’t see an actress. She’s struggling to contain real emotion. Emotion it looks like she’s been suppressing for a very long time.
“Tell me,” I answer in a rough voice. “I want to hear the rest.”
Her gaze moves over my face, assessing me, and even after all these years, terror still lurks in the depths of her eyes. That kind of fear can’t be faked, and it leaves me more unsettled because I know it’s only going to get worse. She’s trying to decide whether I’m a safe space right now. That she can trust me with whatever she’s about to unleash.
“I want to know.” I soften my tone. “You can tell me, no matter how ugly it might be.”
She swipes at a fresh wave of tears, takes a moment to gather herself, and continues.
“Our relationship was always a roller coaster,” she says. “I was so wrapped up in him I couldn’t see that I was on a slow descent to hell. In the beginning, I was enamored by the extravagant dates and grand gestures. He was one of the only guys I knew who listened to what I had to say. He remembered everything I told him. Everything. And I was stupid enough to be flattered by it.”
A sound of disgust leaves her lips as she shakes her head. “I didn’t realize at the time he was building a reference guide for himself. He cataloged my every weakness, my vulnerabilities, anything or anyone he might perceive as a threat in my life. All those things I told him about myself came back to haunt me. From the beginning, he’d pick fights with me. There were cracks in the fairy tale, and I just didn’t want to see them. I’d excuse them away. And when I couldn’t, he’d make me believe I was crazy. He’d look me right in the eyes and lie to my face, denying my version of events. The first two times I caught him cheating, he said I was drunk, and I didn’t know what I was talking about. If he slapped me, he’d tell me it was my fault for making him love me so much it drove him crazy. And if I told him we should break up, he’d threaten to kill himself.”
Tori stops to take a sip of water and clear her throat before she continues. “He was insanely jealous, and that started to evolve into accusations. He’d tell me what to wear. How to do my makeup. My hair. And if I tried to dress up for him, he’d get pissed and call me a whore. If I didn’t, he’d say I was a slob. I couldn’t fucking win. But after a while, it wasn’t just other guys I had to worry about. He didn’t want me around my friends either. He’d create arguments over imaginary slights and stop inviting them to go out with us. And if I talked to them behind his back, he’d make my life a living hell. He’d humiliate me and wear me down to the point I couldn’t fight with him anymore. I just shut down and did what he told me to so he’d forgive me for whatever perceived sin I’d committed that week. My whole life revolved around trying not to upset him, but it was an impossible task.”
She pauses for a beat, and I hand her my napkin since she’s already soaked through hers. I don’t want to interrupt her thoughts, so I sit silently and wait for her to go on.
“The first time he hit me, I was so shocked, I convinced myself it was just because we were drunk,” she says. “But it happened again. And again. And it evolved from slapping to other things. He’d bite me. Strangle me. Try to smother me with a pillow. Drag me around by my hair while he spit in my face and kicked me in the ribs. He’d make me kneel for him and crawl for him and kiss his shoes while I begged for his forgiveness. He got off on that power, and when it was all over, he’d fuck me like it was his right.”