Olivia's expression softens when she realizes that I'm not running, and she loosens her grip on my hands, but doesn't let go. "Thank you," she says softly, tucking a wisp of hair behind my ear. "This means a lot to me."

"What?"

"That you're still here."

I try a smile, but it comes out more as grimace. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But my trembling hands belie my nonchalance and Olivia pulls me onto her lap, cradling me in her arms and soothing my body as well as my psyche. "You don't need to be afraid, sweetie. I know you're scared now, but I promise, I will never hurt you. I love you, Alex." She rubs my shoulders, massaging away their strain, and her next question comes unexpectedly. "Do you trust me?"

I have to think about that one. I've never trusted anyone in my life that hasn't hurt me, but maybe now this can be different. Maybe Olivia will be different. Finally I nod. "Unconditionally." And as soon as I say it, I know it's the truth.

Her lips crinkle into a smile, and I melt. "Thank you for that, Alex."

I shake my head, fingering the Fearlessness pendant she wears around her neck. It suits her. "No, thank you."

"For what?"

"For showing me that I can trust you. For being trustworthy." I take a deep breath. "When I'm with you, I know I'm safe." I squeeze my eyes shut, realizing I've said too much, but she smiles again.

"You are safe with me, Alex. Always."

I drop my gaze and don't say anything.

Olivia glances at the clock on her night table and then back at me. She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "If you want to shower, I can whip us up some pancakes, or French toast if you'd prefer."

I check the time and realize it's nearly 8:00 – we'll be late for work if we don't get a move on, and that will definitely raise a red flag. I don't think either of us has ever been late for work before – I know I haven't been, but that's simply because I sleep there more often than not. I want to tell Olivia not to put herself out, that I can just have a banana or a yogurt or something, but she looks so eager to please me and she's trying so hard that I can't bear to say no. I just nod and make my way to the bathroom, strip off my clothes and get into the shower, trying not to look at the scars that still litter my body.

I can identify each one, when I got it, what made it, who caused it. Almost all of them are from her, but there are others – from my dad, mostly. A few are benign; from falling down the stairs when I was eighteen months old, because I refused to go backward down the stairs even though my mother told me to, and I slipped and banged my head. I needed five stitches for that one. Another, from when I got into a fight with little Andrew in kindergarten. He tried to kiss me and I punched him in the face, and he was so surprised that he hit me back, and I hadn't realized that he was stronger than me. There's one from when I fell off my bicycle when I was eight – I was going down a huge hill and realized I was heading for a tree, so I hit the brakes hard, but I guess third grade science hadn't really registered, because it hadn't occurred to me that the impact would send me flying. Which it did. But the lessons that stick with me most are the painful ones.

Such as: Don't tell your father about your girlfriend unless you don't want to be able to sit down for a week. Make sure there's always enough Diet Coke in the fridge or else you'll be punished, with the strap-on, until you're ready to pass out from the pain. Never take off your collar when she wants you to keep it on, or else you'll be sleeping in the closet all night. Smoke as many cigarettes as she tells you to, even though you hate the smell, because if you don't want to be the smoker, you'll become the ashtray. Don't say a word about what she does to you unless you want another smack, another scar.

Such as: Don't tell anyone you love about your past, or else they'll leave you. That would be the worst punishment of all.

Review if you want to know what happens next!