Page 56 of Fear Me, Love Me

She nods. “Just after I turned fifteen, I snuck out one night to go to a party. I’d never done that before, and I had a terrible time, and then my friend left me stranded without a ride home, so I had to walk. I was sick with anxiety about being alone in the dark. It reminded me of being a child. As I was walking along some dark street, a car pulled up beside me, and it was Lucas. I was so relieved I jumped straight in and immediately confessed everything to him. I was out without permission. I’d had an awful time. I was stuck on the wrong side of town. He told me that he’d drive me home and everything would be okay.”

She swallows hard.

“Only, he didn’t. He drove to an underpass and parked there, telling me he just wanted to talk. Every time I asked him if we could go, he changed the subject, and things started getting creepy. I remember I was so confused by what was happening that I couldn’t concentrate, and then the next thing I knew he’d pushed my seat way back and he was climbing on top of me.”

I can picture it in my head. Fifteen-year-old Vivienne, vulnerable and afraid, while a man puts his hands on her and treats her like a piece of meat. A sick, angry sensation twists my guts.

“I could feel him ripping my clothes, and he was so frightening that I froze. One part of my brain was telling me to play dead and let it happen, but another part of me wasscreaming. I suddenly remembered that if you’re attacked, you should go for their eyes. So I shoved my fingers in his eyes. He pulled back, and I had just enough room to reach for the door, open it, and scramble out. I didn’t stop running until my lungs felt like they were about to explode.”

I slide my hand into her hair and rock her against me, seeing that terrified fifteen-year-old in my mind’s eye. Having two younger sisters means I’ve lain awake imagining the worst things happening to them. I’ve seen firsthand the cruelty of men toward women. What a horrible story, made no better by the fact that Lucas didn’t actually succeed in what he set out to do.

“Did you tell your father about this?” I ask.

Vivienne nods, wiping tears from her face. “I didn’t want to because they were such good friends, but Lucas came to the house a week later to watch football. I saw him standing in my living room and panicked. I was so scared. I couldn’t breathe, and Samantha nearly called an ambulance. After Lucas left, they dragged the truth out of me.” She hesitates, and I feel her hand clench on my shoulder. “Dad was so angry with me.”

“Angry withyou?” I exclaim. I would have been beyond furious if I saw my daughter panicking at the sight of one of my friends, but not with her.

“He told me I was mistaken and that Lucas wouldn’t do that. Then he asked me if I made it up because I was worried I would be in trouble for sneaking out of the house.”

The mental gymnastics involved to ask such a ridiculous question is astounding. Vivienne isn’t a troublemaker, and she blames herself for everything, and you’d think her own father could see that. “Did Lucas keep coming around to the house?”

“Yes. And every time he did…” She touches her ribs.

I exhale heavily. So that’s why. Every time she saw Lucas, she was flooded with misery and fear, and she had to let it out.

“I couldn’t help myself. It was the only thing that made me feel sane.”

I take her hand and press a kiss to her palm. After everything she’d been through with her mom, being attacked by a family friend and having her trauma thrown in her face was too much pain. Of course she had to let it out somehow.

“When was the last time you made yourself bleed?”

“Just before I moved out to go to college. I have a room of my own, and even though I know that Lucas can’t get in, I still have my cutting box. Just in case,” she confesses in a whisper.

The thought of sending her and her brother back to that shitty home is too much even for my bloodstained conscience. I gaze at the bassinet for a long time, my brain ticking over at a hundred miles a second.

“Stay.”

Vivienne looks up at me in surprise. “What?”

“Stay. You won’t ever be alone here. You and Barlow.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You want me. I can make you fall in love with me. Everything you could possibly need is here, and if it’s not, I’ll buy it for you.”

Vivienne stares at me like I’ve sprouted two heads. “Make me fall in love with you?”

I stroke my fingers along her throat, murmuring softly, “Yes, make you. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“The reason I want you so much is because I’m afraid of you, for good reason. Do you know what everyone in Henson calls you?”

“What do they call me?”

“A monster.”

I brush my lips over hers. “Sure. I’m a monster. But there are monsters living inside your head, Vivienne. They tell you that everything that’s happened to you is all your fault. If you stay, I’ll make sure they’re too afraid of me to ever tell you that again.”

Her hands tighten on my biceps. There’s so much yearning in her eyes. “How would you even do that?”

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