Page 3 of Twisted Salvation
“Now, I know you know better than that, Myra,” he says with a frown.
“He… It’s bad,” I say. “He reminds me of Dad, which is funny considering I ran to him to get away from Dad in the first place.”
“One, that’s not funny. Two, how does he remind you of your father?”
“He’s a drunk. He forces me to have sex with him when he’s drunk. When he gets upset at me, he screams in my face. He calls me names and tells me he wishes I would kill myself,” I say.
“Does he hit you?”
“Uh, he slaps me sometimes, but it’s nothing like what Dad would do,” I say.
“Myra, honey,” he sighs and looks up at me. “How long has it been like this?”
“Since I moved in with him,” I say carefully.
“Jesus fu…” he starts to say, but stops himself and takes a deep breath. “Why haven’t you told me any of this before? I know he was the source of a lot of your stress, and I suspected he was emotionally abusive, but this? Why did you hide all of this?”
“Because I was afraid of you telling me I traded in my dad for another version of him,” I admit. “It’s gotten worse lately, and I find myself in those dark places more often… I knew I needed to talk to you about it, but then…”
“But then what?”
“Then I walked into his office to tell him I was leaving and found his client getting herself off while sucking his dick,” I say bluntly. “I know he cheats because he tells me all the time that I can’t satisfy him, and he needs someone who he can get hard for… Which is a crock of shit considering how violent he is when he forces me to fuck him.”
“How is he forcing you?” he asks.
“Well… More like forcing himself on me. I’m never the one doing anything. I just keep my mouth shut and let him take what he wants because if I don’t, it leads to him screaming at me, guilt-tripping me, and then still violently fucking me,” I say.
“Myra, that’s rape,” he says. “You know I have to report this, right?”
“What? Why?” I frown.
“Well, he was getting sucked off by a client in his office, for one,” he says as he finishes bandaging my arm. “Also, I am a mandated reporter.”
“Not for this, you’re not. There is no law saying you have to report,” I argue.
“Myra, it might not be the law, but it’s ethical,” he says. “You just sat here and told me that you are being raped on a regular basis and hit by someone who is emotionally abusive. What do you expect me to do?”
“Keep your fucking mouth shut so you don’t get me killed,” I snap and stand up.
“Myra, stop,” he says as he stands with me.
“No, Dominic. Leon is fucking friends with Dad. Do you get that?” I say, raising my voice. “If you report this, they will fucking kill me. If they even knew you were a man, I’d get killed.”
“Myra,” he says gently.
“No. I’m done. This is why I didn’t say anything,” I say as I pick up my bag.
“Myra, hold on a second,” he says.
“No,” I say angrily. “Just cancel my appointments. I’m done risking my life just to have someone to talk to, but not being able to tell the truth in fear of him running his goddamn mouth.”
I turn to the door, and right as I pull it open, he steps behind me and pushes it shut. “What is my number?”
“What? Can you move your hand so I can leave?” I snap.
“What is my number, Myra? You have my personal number. What is it?” he asks again.
“555-786-6601,” I sigh.
