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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Vera sidled up, too, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, nowhere near as strong as John’s but comforting all the same. ‘John’s right,’ she said in my ear as more tears came. ‘Like I said last night, you’re safe with us.’

Something crazy happened in that moment, something I hadn’t expected, pushing every intrusive thought away.

I believed them. What’s more, I decided to tell them the truth.

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TEN

Perhaps things wouldn’t have gotten so bad if I had better learned to prevent Davis’s triggers.

Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the woods upstate, bile sour in my mouth as I tried to explain the details of a failed, abusive relationship to my new friends.

But it was a lost cause from the beginning – there were simply too many things that could piss Davis off.

He didn’t like criticism – no one did, but he really hated it – especially in public.

He didn’t like me flirting, or anything that could be construed as flirting, which included wearing sexy clothes outside of our apartment, spending too much time on my makeup, smiling too long at waiters or bartenders he deemed attractive, or engaging in banter with male coworkers, even if it was only about work.

He didn’t like me talking about my exes. Not even stupid, insignificant ones. Not even as a joke.

He didn’t like any openness about our sex life. Though it was always good between us, one of the ways we were undeniably in sync, it was his and his alone to enjoy. No sharing even the smallest details with others.

He didn’t like me trying to control him, no matter how tiny the ask. He was an adult, he said. He’d do it all in his own time.

He didn’t like me going places without telling him. Hours that couldn’t be accounted for. He was like a nosy client that way, needing to know how I spent every minute of time he had decided was his.

I know it sounds terrible, like some sort of prison sentence, but really, it wasn’t. I would have left far sooner if it were. As with any person you spend all your time with, you learn what gets under their skin. You do your best to avoid it. You grow as a person, as a couple. You communicate your needs.

And the good, it was so good. The sex, the emotional support, the excitement of us. Once, we took a road trip to Niagara Falls, spur of the moment, upon learning that neither of us had been. We kissed slowly as the water sprayed around us.

But I was human. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t completely avoid setting him off. And as time went on, as our second year together blended into our third, his punishments began to escalate, began to get physical.