Page 131 of Collect the Pieces

“How? What’d he say?”

Why does he want to know so badly?

Will he use the information to judge how much abuse I’m willing to tolerate and change the way Daniel did?

“Just mean stuff.”

“Like what? That you were broken becausehecouldn’t figure out how your body works?”

“Pretty much.”Please, please stop asking.

Maybe it would be a relief to finally purge it all to someone.

And Jigsaw’s the safest person I know.

He’s staring at me intently, waiting for more details.

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?” I ask, hating the pitiful pleading in my tone. “Not even Rooster? I know he’s your best friend and as much as I like him, I?—"

“Promise.” He presses his hand over his heart. “Not even Rooster.”

Shame I shouldn’t even feel wraps around my throat. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’mnotbroken.

Why is it still hard to share something so embarrassing even though I trust him?

“It’s okay.” He lets out a long sigh. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He doesn’t try to guilt me into spilling my pain, just keeps his arms around me. The solid protection of his body surrounding me finally loosens the knot of embarrassment tangling my tongue.

“Daniel and I started out…nice. He seemed perfect at first.”

“How’d you meet?”

“Through my dad’s bank.” I roll my eyes. It sounds so absurd. “He works in finance.”

Jigsaw snorts. “Go on.”

“He’d take me out to dinner. Invited me to meet his friends. Seemed very interested in getting to know my father.” I pause, searching for details I’ve buried. “One time when we were at an event, one of his college buddies made fun of my job in front of everyone.”

I scowl, the details of that awful night returning with painful clarity. “It embarrassed me terribly, but I laughed it off because I’m used to people saying stupid things about what I do.” I stop and close my eyes briefly. “But Daniel seemedreallybothered by it. Slowly, we stopped socializing with his circle. He started criticizing me a lot more. I wasn’t smart enough. Or pretty enough. I dressed too weird. Wore too much makeup. Not enough makeup. Nothing I did seemed to make him happy.”

“Jesus, Margot. All of that is bullshit. You know that now, right?”

I half-heartedly lift one shoulder and nod. “Even though he seemed to hate everything about me, he still asked me to marry him. Gave me a beautiful ring.” I glance down at my bare fingers. “I had this uneasy feeling in my stomach. But like an idiot, I still said yes.”

“You said yes to this guy?” he asks in a pained voice.

I shift my gaze to his, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity.

“I did. On paper, he seemed like a good fit for me. I’d never come close to feeling anything like I thought people in love were supposed to feel.” I press my hand over my heart. “I kept telling myself that’s because this is real life, not a movie or a book. I’m an adult, not a teenager. I didn’t need to be romanced andsmothered with affection all the time. He paid for our dates. Introduced me to his family…”

“Margot, that’s the bare minimum.”

“I know.”

“Adult or not, you deserve to be cherished.” He entwines his fingers with mine and pure affection flows through the simple gesture. I can’t bring myself to agree with his statement, though.

“Once we were engaged, he ramped up the complaints. Suddenly, I needed to lose weight, my breasts were too squishy and big, my thighs too jiggly.” Humiliation rains down over me as I list each small insult that, over time, added up to a mountain of pain.

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