Chapter 17

Iwalk back into El's room as Vin is walking out. He doesn't make eye contact. I actually think he goes out of his way to avoid me. I've been staying here for the past few days and spending as much time with El as possible… whenever her husband isn't hovering over her and kicking me out of the room.

I set the tray of food I made down on the bed and sit next to her. "I don't think he likes me."

"He doesn't know you," she says.

"Still, I get that vibe from him. He caught me sneaking out of Gabe's room one morning, and ever since then, whenever I've seen him, he just puts out this whole I hate Daisy vibe." I shrug like it's not a big deal, but really it is. I don't want Gabe's family to not like me.

"He's a teenager—that's the vibe you're getting from him. Also, I think all of them are just really guarded about who they allow to get close to them," El says, then adds, "He'll come around."

"Maybe, anyway, eat up." I hand her a plate with the cheese toastie I made her.

"Ah, you know there's kitchen staff who could have made this without adding the burnt-bread flavour?" El chuckles.

"I know, but I'm not going to ask them to make something for me. It's weird. Just eat around the burnt bits," I tell her.

"I'm not hungry, Daisy. I'm sorry." El picks up and then sets the sandwich back down on the plate.

"I know you're not. I also know you don't want to eat. But you need to, El. If you don't, you're going to make yourself sick." I try to keep my voice calm, soothing even.

"I can't," El shakes her head.

"Just one bite." I hold the toastie up to her mouth, and she takes a tiny bite. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. I know that it seems better to keep it all in, but trust me when I say talking will help. I can recommend some really great therapists."

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm fine." El looks away, appearing to dismiss the idea.

"Yeah, that's what I used to tell myself too. I was fine. It wasn't that bad. Or I'd try to convince myself that it was my fault, so I should just accept it and move on." I stare out the window as I reveal part of myself I've never shown to a single soul—other than my own therapist, who I haven't seen in a couple of years.

"What are you talking about?" El reaches out and takes hold of my hand.

I don't know what's come over me. Why all of a sudden I'm telling her this story. A story I've never told anyone else before. "I was thirteen when it started. It didn't end until I turned seventeen," I whisper.

"You met us when you were seventeen," El whispers back.

"I think, in a lot of ways, you and Dani saved me. I wanted so much to be like you girls that I just started doing what you did. Going to school, making better choices. I stopped drinking and taking pills. Because of you and Dani, I got my shit together." I take a breath in. I've never told them that they saved my life in more ways than one. "I started talking to a counsellor not long after that. She got me out of my house and my… my stepdad was arrested."

"Oh my god, Daisy, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you ever tell us?" El asks.

"Because I didn't want you to judge me. I know that sounds stupid now, but when I was young, I felt… dirty. Like I did something to deserve it, you know? I still don't tell people, El."

"I won't tell anyone. You can always talk to me."

"Thanks, you too. This goes both ways." I gesture between us, before a noise at the door has me flicking my attention that way. Gabe. He turns on his heel and storms in the opposite direction, the sound of shattering glass echoing down the hall a few seconds later.

"I take it he didn't know," El says.

"No. I lied to him, El. I lie to everyone who sees the scars," I admit.

"What scars?"

"I'm good at hiding them. But it's not so easy when I'm completely naked. I told him I was a clumsy kid. I fell a lot." I shrug.

"What are they from? The scars?"

"My stepfather liked to use knives to keep me from screaming," I lower my voice so no one else will overhear.

"Oh, Daisy…" El's eyes well up with tears as she tugs me into a tight hug.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago, El. I'm in a good place now. But I… I want you to know that I understand. If you ever want someone to talk to, I know what it's like."

"The whole time it was happening, the only thing I could think about was how to protect Gio. I fought. I tried so hard, but I wasn't fighting for myself. I was fighting for him. I should have been fighting for myself…" Tears fall freely down her cheeks now, and I wipe them away as gently as I can.

"You and Gio are one and the same. You think you were fighting for your husband, but who is he without you? Who are you without him?" I ask her.

"Whoever this man is, the one who… he said to tell Gio that he wouldn't leave me alive next time. That's what has me scared to death. I can't help but wonder when that next time is going to be." El's words are hushed, like she's letting me in on a secret. And something in my gut tells me she hasn't mentioned this part to her husband.

"Gio is out there right now. He's going to find the guy and do whatever it is he has to do. This asshole is not going to be able to breathe, let alone get to you again," I tell her.

"Thank you for staying last night, for being here today." El smiles. It's forced. I know the last thing she wants to do right now is smile.

"It's not the first time I've slept in this house." I laugh, remembering when I met Gabe in the kitchen during our little slumber party.

"Ew. Do you think you should go and talk to him? Gabe, I mean?" El glances over to the empty doorway.

"Nope, I'm staying right here with you and we're doing a Twilight marathon." I pick up the television remote. The last thing I want to do right now is deal with Gabe. Whatever he has to say, I'm pretty sure it's best I don't hear it. For both our sakes.

Gio creeps into the room during the third movie. El is already passed out on the bed. "How long has she been asleep?" he asks me.

"About an hour. I have to go, but call me if she needs me to come back," I tell him.

"Thank you for being here, for her."

"You don't have to thank me for that," I say.

Then I walk out, turn down the hall, and open Gabe's door. Thankful he's not here. I grab all the shit I've left sprawled around the room over the past couple of days. And by some miracle, I manage to get out of the house without seeing him or any of his brothers.

It's not until I'm home, in my own apartment, that it hits me. The hollowness in my chest. The realisation that my lies have pushed him over the edge. The fact that he heard what happened to me. He knows the truth. That I'm not the woman he thought I was. I was once damaged.

I say once, because I'm not anymore. I don't dwell on my past or let it impact the life I've built for myself in the present. Other than my determination to help other girls who could be in a very similar situation.

The sadness I feel at the thought of losing Gabe quickly turns into rage. Which I welcome.

Fuck him.

I mean, who the fuck is he to get mad about something that happened to me years ago? Long before I met him. Something that has absolutely nothing to do with him. Screw him if he thinks I'm going to be running after him, begging for a scrap of attention he used to give me freely.

I will never allow myself to become that woman. The kind of woman my mother is. The kind who overlooks the abuse of her daughter just to keep a guy around a bit longer. I will never be that dependent on a man, or that desperate for attention.

Just because I won't beg for him, it doesn't mean I don't want him. And it certainly doesn't mean I don't welcome him into my bed when he appears in my apartment in the middle of the night. I'll take the comfort of sleeping in Gabe's arms, even if I know I'll have to face the truth in the morning.