I continue, “My father always looked away when he saw bruises on me. He had this saying: ‘If your mother or I say it rains from the ground to the sky, then that’s how it is.’ That’s all he ever said to me. So, I hid the marks with long jeans, even in the summer. Wouldn’t have mattered even if I hadn’t. I think I was seventeen, or close to it, when she took things too far. I was talking with this guy, Travis, and she told me to put the phone down. I didn’t. She wanted to hit me again, and I was getting tired of it, so I got up and walked away from her. Long story short, she totally lost it. I tried to run upstairs and that somehow led to her banging my head on the floor until it bled.”

Elias inhales sharply and stops stroking me.

“When I looked at myself in the mirror the next day, my eyes were purple, my lips bruised and my hair was stuck to my head with congealed blood. I snapped a picture, just in case.” A resentful laugh escapes my lips again.

“How did you not just kill them in their sleep?” he asks, breathing heavily.

I feel his gaze on me, but I can no longer make eye contact. “I threatened them I’d go public; share the picture of me that morning and some texts from my mom.”

“Did they buy it?”

“Not at first, no,” I shake my head, “but they quickly learned not to underestimate me when a journalist knocked at the door, asking to see me for an interview.”

“That was incredibly smart for a seventeen-year-old.”

Normal people would appreciate that compliment. But not me. I had to be smart, and it’s damn painful when you have to grow up so fast.

“So, they drew up a contract with a lawyer and shit. I’d get my grandmother’s house and fifty thousand a month, just to keep up the family appearance.”

“And you agreed,” he states, more for himself than me.

“Yes. Leaking everything wouldn’t have got me anything in the long term, plus I was seventeen.”

He nods, thinking deeply about it. It scares me when the silence extends for a minute or two. I start to worry about what he’s going to say next. I care about him and his opinion.

“If you want to run, do it now,” I joke, but not really. On the inside, I’m freaking out.

He’s still quiet as I gather the courage to look at him. He has tears in his eyes. He’s hurting for me. For her. For the girl that went through all that when all she wanted was to be a regular kid.