Page 40 of Hold Him Like Gravity

I was a small woman.

Kyle was a big guy.

Even trying to pull away had never been successful for me. It seemed absurd to think I could overpower him and do any damage.

Let alone kill him.

I wasn’t akiller.

That remained true.

Even through two more times of getting fed up and leaving him, trying to start over, only to have him track me down again, pull me back again.

The last time was the most hurtful time.

Because for the first time ever, I’d been desperate enough to go to my brother for help.

I’d shown up at his door bleeding from my nose with a black eye steadily forming, begging him to let me crash for a couple of weeks, just until I had enough of a savings to start over again.

Because Kyle had found my secret stash of money in the bottom of a bulk tampon box under the bathroom sink. The money I’d been saving to get away. For real this time. For good.

I’d barely been in the door before he had me by the hair, pulling me through the apartment to the bathroom where he had the cash on the sink counter.

There’d been a lot of screaming and pain. And the whole time, all I could think about was never letting this happen again.

Then, as soon as I could, I ran.

And things seemed okay then for a bit.

I got a new job under the table so Kyle couldn’t find me. I slept on the couch in Jake and Bobby’s living room. I made plans. I got stronger, more confident; I stopped taking shit from men, never wanting anyone to think they could take advantage of me again, to hurt me again.

It was the first time in my adult life where I had hope, where I felt in control of things.

Until, one night, I was taking trash out to the dumpster at my job.

Then there he was.

“Your brother said I could find you here,” he said, standing between me and the door to my job. Not that there was any real safety inside. I was working alone. The store was empty.

Jake?

Jake had sent him?

Betrayed me?

Even after he’d seen what Kyle had done to me?

The betrayal cut, perhaps more than it should have, given that Jake had never protected me a day in his life. Not when the neighborhood guys would catcall or grope me when we were growing up. Not when our parents would blame me for something he’d done.

Never.

Still, it hurt.

And, in that moment, I decided I didn’t have a brother anymore.

“You’re coming home with me,” Kyle had said, advancing toward me, making the already minuscule alley feel all the more claustrophobic.

“No, I’m not,” I’d said, taking a step back until the damn dumpster prevented further retreat.

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