Chapter 45

It’s been three days since my life went to shit - all my own doing I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. I’m so fucking mad at myself. Mad and ashamed.

Not only did I push Slater to do something he clearly wasn’t ready for or comfortable with, I then cheated on him with the masked man and never said a word about it.

I don’t even remember if I asked the masked man to stop.

I was exhausted by the time the masked man had finished with me, falling into a disturbed slumber that was full of pain and suffering.

Suffering I wholeheartedly deserved.

I woke up a sore, groggy mess - untied - but that was nothing compared to my emotional turmoil. There’s burn marks on my wrists from the restraints, scabs where my cuts have started to heal over, bruises, nail marks, dried blood. My muscles ached from the intensity of my orgasms, my ass was on fire without even lying on my back, my throat was raw from sobbing and screaming, and my face was tight with dried tears.

A mess.

I may have cleaned myself up, changed the sheets, made it seem like the masked man was never here since then, but it didn’t matter anyway. Because Slater hasn’t been home.

Three days.

Three days of not responding to my messages and calls. He had me taken off the roster again at work, so I’ve not had any shifts, and I don’t feel comfortable going to the bar and confronting him when he’s at work. I don’t even know where he is, or if he’s okay. Where is he staying? Has he gone home to his dad’s? Why is he staying away? Was what we did that terrible? Do I disgust and sicken him that much?

Is he comparing me to her?

The nightmares are always worse when Slater’s not around, but that’s a selfish reason to ask him to come back. I miss him. The apartment is horrible and empty without him, and the longer he stays away, the less welcome I feel. I should go back to my dorm, but I’m weak. I feel like the second I set foot in there, Sean will show up again and finally break me.

I’m not ready for that. I’m not strong enough.

I can handle what the masked man does to me. I welcome it, even. But from my ex-stepfather?

Never.

I’d sooner die than submit to him.

The thought of him touching me sends me spiraling, and it’s another three days before I’m able to function.

Slater never checks in on me once.

Slater, please come home. I can’t do this anymore.

Please.

Just let me know you’re okay. I’m going out of my mind with worry.

I’m going to head back to my dorm room tonight.

I’m sorry.

Slater

I’ll be back after class. Stay where you are. We can talk, but I have work later.

Okay. Thank you. Thank you. I’m so, so sorry. Thank you for giving me a chance.

No reply comes through though.

Sighing, I stow my phone away and set to sorting myself out. The house was tidy, but another three days of barely functioning means I need to clean up again. I also really need a shower. Maybe I could cook something nice for Slater, and we could talk over dinner. That might make things less awkward. It’ll be good to have a distraction to hide behind, right?

With a tired sigh, I survey the mess around me - the remnants of my disordered life now littering the apartment. It’s time to clean up and put things back together, or so I thought for a split second. But the fact remains - I’ve broken Slater’s trust beyond repair. There’s no going back from this.

As the day wears on, I find myself unable to concentrate on anything. My mind is completely consumed with thoughts of Slater, the masked man, Sean, Heather, even my mom, and the guilt that weighs heavily on my shoulders. With each passing moment, it becomes harder to imagine a future where Slater will ever be able to forgive me. But, I have to try.

I force myself to focus on the task at hand, cleaning the dishes, sweeping the floors, and washing the bedsheets again. I’m determined to make the apartment as presentable as possible for Slater’s return. By the time I’m finished, I feel slightly more at ease, but the knot in my stomach remains. I know that this is only the beginning of the long road ahead.

With the sun starting to set, I decided to cook a meal for Slater and myself. As I chop the vegetables and season the meat, my mind wanders, painting a picture of what our lives together could have looked like - before everything went wrong. How had we gotten here? So disjointed and fragmented when everything should still be shiny and new and blissful?

What does our future hold?

Questions and regrets swirl round and round my head as I take a shower and get ready for Slater’s arrival. I dress nicely, but don’t dress up. I’m not trying to seduce him or show him what he’s missing. I just want a little armor to steel me as I try to fix things between us.

As I light the candles and set the table, there’s a mixture of hope and dread coursing through me. Hope that we can somehow make it through this, and dread knowing that whatever comes next, it won’t be easy.

Every minute feels like hours as I wait for Slater to arrive. My heart races with anticipation, but my anxiety grows with each tick of the clock. I try to distract myself by cleaning up the last remaining clutter, but it’s no use. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to face the consequences of my actions.

Finally, the sound of the door unlocking, and the familiar creak of the hallway floorboards echoes through the apartment followed by the thud of a bag being dropped heavily on the floor. My heart sinks as I can sense his frustration, anger, and sadness in that one simple step he takes.

With trembling hands, I turn and face him. “Slater, I’m so, so sorry.” My voice falters, and I’m not sure if he can even hear me.

I can see the pain and betrayal in his eyes, and I know he’s not ready to forgive me yet.

“You manipulated me,” he says in a low, level tone that’s so devoid of emotion, it has me despairing that it’s already too late for us.

I nod, unable to look away from his anguished expression. “I manipulated you. I’m so sorry, Slater. I don’t even know why I did it. I just remember being so desperate to know that we’re okay, and then...I woke up the next morning and realized what I’d done.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, his face a mix of emotions I can’t begin to understand.

I try to speak again, but my voice fails me.

Instead, a sob wracks my whole body, and Slater’s expression immediately softens. He holds his arms wide, and I fly into them, grabbing hold of him like he’s my lifeline and crying into his shoulder.

“Sssh, I’m here now, Cora. I came back.”

He rubs soothing circles on my back, but it just makes me cry harder. I don’t deserve his kindness, his comfort. I fucked up. I deserve his wrath.

“Cora, it’s okay.”

“N-n-no it’s not!” I wail, completely falling apart in his arms. “I’m no better than her.”

“Cora,” he says firmly, giving me a little shake and moving his hands to my shoulders so he can peel me off him and hold me at arms’ length. “You are nothing like her. Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it. Is that what you’ve been doing all week? Comparing yourself to her and beating yourself up?”

I don’t answer, but guilt has me chewing the inside of my cheek as I try to avoid his gaze.

“You made a mistake, okay. I needed some time…to process everything, but I’m here now.” I nod sadly, not believing that he’s truly back to stay. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

My heart thunders at his question. This is it. My chance to tell him. To confess my sins and those of the masked man. My throat tightens with nerves as I try to work up the courage to tell him.

“Cora?” His expression is patient, but his gaze is probing.

I can’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I called the bar and told them you were sick and couldn’t go in tonight. I just wanted us to have time to talk.”

Shame, twofold, washes over me. For manipulating him again by taking away his choice to work or not, and for sitting on my secret.

“I see.” Slater’s expression is tight, there’s a hardness in his eyes too. I look away, wrapping my arms around myself for comfort that he won’t give.

Slater sighs. “Did you even eat? You look so slim. Too slim.”

I consider his words, my head tilting to the side. I had a handful of dry cereal earlier, right out of the box, but I feel like confessing this to Slater will have the opposite effect of appeasing him. Beyond that…I can’t recall. When did I last eat a proper meal?

I shrug.

“Alright,” Slater says, disappointment clear in his tone. “That’s not healthy.” He takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen. “We’re going to cook something, then you’re going to eat, okay?”

I nod, feeling embarrassed by my lack of self-care. “I cooked for you today.” I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t like cooking for one, for myself, but then close it again. He’ll only lecture me, and besides, my stomach has been too knotted up with worry and regret to have much of an appetite.

As we plate up the simple dish I made for us and eat, the atmosphere is still heavy with tension, but there’s a different kind of energy in the air. It’s like we’re both acknowledging the hurt and betrayal, but also the love we still have for each other. The love isn’t damaged, it’s the trust that’s gone.

Once we’ve finished eating, I clean up and do the dishes. Slater tries to stop me, but I insist. It’s stupid, but my guilt is telling me I can prove to him how sorry I am by just doing everything and making myself his slave. When it comes to flight or fight response, in this case I’m defaulting to option three: fawn. If I bend over backward to make him happy, maybe we can get back to where we were.

Tears prick at my eyes as I scrub each dish, and I can feel Slater watching me. He doesn’t say anything, just stands in the kitchen doorway, observing me. I can feel his gaze on my back, and I want to crawl out of my skin under the weight of his expectations and my own wrongdoings.

Finally, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Cora. It’s just going to take some time,” he murmurs softly. “We’ll get through this, I promise.”

I nod against his chest, letting out a shaky breath. For the first time in what feels like ages, I believe him. Somehow, I know that we will make it through this, and I’m thankful that Slater is willing to give me another chance.

I decide to run a bath for Slater, like he did for me. I use some bath salts and even light some candles. I’m thinking when he’s done, maybe I can give him a massage or rub his feet or something. I don’t know. I don’t know how to apologize to a guy. All the books I read have the guys doing the grovelling, and I’m at a loss what I can do for him that doesn’t involve sex. Clearly, we’re not going to be doing that for a long time.

While Slater’s relaxing in the tub - he didn’t invite me to join him or stay, and I didn’t ask or offer - I find his duffle bag in the hallway. I should ask him where he’s been, but I don’t think I could bear the pain of hearing he’s been with another woman. I prefer to live in hypocritical denial.

Instead, I decide to do his laundry for him. Crouching down, I unzip the bag, and my heart sinks at the sight before me. There, lying on top of his neatly folded clothes, is the last thing I expected to see.

My hands shake as I pick it up, examining it closer.

This isn’t happening.

I should never have opened his bag.

But I can’t unsee it.

My world comes crashing down around me.

Tears stream down my face as I try to make sense of what’s happening.

I can’t breathe as my thoughts spiral out of control.