I fill with dread as Taylor pushes me into the house. I stumble back a bit due to the amount of force he used. I look up at him and see nothing but rage in his eyes. He grabs my arm and proceeds to pull me towards the stairs, but I pull back.
"You are in so much trouble, you little slut!" Taylor screamed.
"Please, Taylor, I'm sorry!" I exclaim.
"You're sorry?! News flash, sorry won't cut it. How dare you let another man touch you, especially in that way! Did you think I wouldn't find out?!" he scolded.
"I didn't want to touch him, Taylor, please!" I exclaim.
I try to pull away from his iron grip, but he hangs onto me, tightly. Taylor gets close to my face, so close than I can smell his aftershave.
"If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't have let that son of a bitch touch you." He growls darkly.
My eyes welled up in tears. He knows. He out of everyone fucking knows just how much I hate being touched by people I don't know, yet in this moment, in this vulnerable, painful moment, he exploits my weakness.
"I didn't want him to touch me," I calmly start. My right hand pries open his grip from my arm and I throw his hand away from me.
"I hate allowing anyone that isn't close to me to touch me! I tried to push him off, I tried getting away! Why can't you understand that?!" I exclaim.
The tears I desperately tried to keep at bay start to trail down my face. I look up at him and all I can see is anger and frustration. After all these years of being together, how? How could he let some misunderstanding get between us? I thought he knew me better.
"You know what, I'm done trying to convince you. After all this time, I thought you knew me. I thought you understood what I went through, but clearly, you don't. If you want to think that I'm a slut, go ahead." I screamed with tears trickling down my face.
Before he could say anything, I ran upstairs into a guest bedroom and slammed the door shut. I locked the door and proceeded to push a table in front of it just for good measure. Sobbing, I slipped out of my dress and walked into the bathroom. Thank goodness there was a bathroom in here.
I take off my undergarments and observed the bruises that were already forming after the incident. Earlier this evening, Taylor and I went to a party for Seth's company. I told him that I didn't want to go, that I would just dull down his mood. Taylor reassured me that it was fine and if I wanted to leave, then we'd leave. When we got there, my shyness got the best of me and I decided to hide out in the restrooms. On my way there, a middle aged man pulled me aside and started to make unwanted advances. I tried my best to get away, but as I have experienced multiple acts of sexual assault in the past, my body shut down in an attempt to protect me.
I walked over to the bathtub and turned on the faucet and sat down on the edge of the bath. I sniffle and rub my face in an attempt to stop crying, but the tears keep rolling down my face. Why doesn't Seth trust me? Why can't he understand? I did my best, but my best is never good enough. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him, because he's right, I'm a slut. I'm completely worthless. I'm a failure at everything I do. I let down everyone I love. I'm sick and tired of trying...
I slowly get into the bathtub and let out a sigh. I look down to find that my wrists are starting to bruise up, adding to the collection of bruises that accumulated due to tonight's events. More tears stream down my face and I sigh. I love Taylor, so much that it hurts. Why? Why would he do this to me? My knees instinctively come up to my chest and my arms wrap around them. Rocking back and forth, I let out everything that I was bottling up this evening: anger, sadness, hurt, betrayal, most of all, shame. If I had been perfect, less scarred, less traumatized, I would have been able to get out, get myself out of that impossible situation.
Sniffling, I end my crying session and pulled the plug out of the tub, watching the water as it drains from the tub. I rub my arms and step out of the tub, shivering as the air bites at my skin. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I step into the bedroom and walked over towards the closet next to the bathroom door. Upon opening it, I find a plush white bathrobe. Pulling it out, I adorn it and wipe my eyes and face of the salty ripples that may or may not be still there. God I'm definitely gonna have puffy eyes in the morning. I climb into the bed, pull the covers over me, and laid my head on the pillow, hoping to be taken off to dreamland. Luckily, darkness soon took over, giving me what I wanted at last: peace.
At around 3 in the morning, I hear a knock on the door. I slowly open my eyes to see if this was really the case or if it was just a dream. Nothing. I close my eyes, thinking it was a dream, however, the knocking got louder. I quickly sat up and I saw that the person trying to get in unlocked the door. I sat up and scoot back until my back hit the headboard, hoping that the perpetrator wasn't here to hurt me. As the door opened, the table moved with it to, making an obnoxious, high pitched squeaking sound. When the door was wide open, the darkness of the night only allowed me to see a silhouette of whoever tried to break in. Despite only seeing the outline, I knew it was him. Taylor.
"What are you doing, Taylor?" I ask, shakily.
"I... I just came to apologize," Taylor replied, solemnly.
I gulp down and pull my legs up to my chest to make myself look smaller. Deciding that darkness was not a good setting to have a decent conversation, I turn on the lamp sitting on top of the bedside table and turn back to him. My eyes widen in shock at what I see.
Taylor's eyes are red and puffy; his normally perfect hair was disheveled and messy and his breathing is ragged. I've never seen him look so disoriented.
"I forgive you, Taylor, please go back to bed," I breathe out, holding back my emotions.
"Mina, please," Taylor pleads, stepping closer to the side of the bed.
"Look, tonight was exhausting. I just... I just don't have the energy to talk right now, please let's just talk in the morning," I reason.
"Mina, I'm not leaving the room until you hear what I have to say," Taylor replied.
Reluctantly, I breathe out a "fine."
Tayor takes a seat at the edge of the bed. His hands come up and combs through his perfect chocolate tresses, despite it being messy. Slowly, he cranes his neck over to where I am, his eyes never meeting mine.
"Mina, I-I know you have a past that deals with situations like this. I should have thought about what I said before I even opened my mouth. I'm so sorry, I never meant any of those horrible things I said."
Liar.
"I-If you d-didn't, why would you say them in the first place, Taylor? You out of all people should know how uncomfortable I am around people, especially in regards to touching. Yet, you still chose to take your unsolicited anger out on me, for what? Because some guy harassed me and I couldn't push him off because I froze?!" I exclaim painfully.
"I'm sorry, Mina. I really am. You know how I get with these sorts of things," he responds.
