He sits up now, his brows turned down. “I know you’ve mentioned this before, but what precisely do you mean that she took it out on you?”

“Started when I was eight,” I say, my voice slightly shaking. “I forgot to do the dishes before I left for a friend’s house. When I got home, my mom shoved my face into a sink of dirty dishwater. I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to do. I swear, she almost drowned me. When she finally let me up for air, she told me not to do it again. I was so confused. I had no idea where the behavior came from. I mean, I had been spanked, and my mom had slapped me once, but that . . . that was extreme. And it only grew from that moment on. She saw me as weak and unsure, and she took advantage of it. The only time she wouldn’t touch me was when Dad was around. But her jealousy of the relationship I had with Dad made the abuse worse. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I fought back and stood up for myself. By that time, we were in Arizona. I had three years left at home, I’d met Nichole, and I was planning my escape. But she knew how to track my moods, and when I was low, she took advantage of it. She knew when I felt worthless, and she made sure to cultivate that feeling.”

“Holy shit, Myla.” He takes my hand in his. “I know it’s weird to ask, but are you okay?”

I shrug. “I’ve grown from it. I don’t try to waste my time thinking about it because when I do, I turn into someone I don’t like, someone who shelters herself from the world.”

“I can understand that. Is that why you’ve sheltered yourself from me?”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s hard for me to trust. It’s hard for me to consider myself worthy enough. So yeah, that’s been a main part of the holdup when it comes to us.”

He brings my knuckles up to his mouth and lightly kisses them. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Did you ever tell your dad?” His compassion wraps around me, comforting me, showing me that maybe I am worthy.

I shake my head. “No, I was too scared what would happen to me if I did tell my dad. So I just lied for her when he saw a bruise or a cut. You would think that would appease her, but it didn’t. I want to believe my dad knew in a way because I saw their relationship deteriorate. My mom cheated on my dad, my dad cheated on my mom—at least that’s what I heard during one fight. It was so toxic that I’m really glad I’m out of their house and don’t have to deal with them anymore.”

“Do you talk to them now?”

“Not my mom. I’ll text my dad and call him on his birthday, but that’s about it.”