After that first glorious night, I start going home with Olivia more often. She's so good to me, and I crave her company like a drug. She never gets upset if I wake her up at three in the morning with nightmares, or if I refuse to change in front of her or shower with her, although she has no qualms about changing in front of me, or sleeping naked with me. She is beautiful, clothed or not, and I know I'll never compare. Then, I suppose she'd tell me I don't have to.

We talk about maybe moving in together, someday. I would love that, actually – I've never felt safer, or more comfortable, anywhere other than her arms. I love her, and I make sure to tell her so – every morning when we wake up together and I'm thanking God that I'm still here, and every night before I fall asleep.

I was fourteen the first time I tried to kill myself. Well, technically you could say I was eight, but that wasn't a serious attempt. I was a stupid little kid who actually thought I could die if I shoved too many Q-tips up my nose. That was before I learned the science of it.

I learned that it is much easier to kill someone else than to kill yourself. To kill yourself, you have to calculate time divided by bearable pain, and for me, that was never much. Which was a bit ironic, come to think of it, considering that the point of killing myself was to get away from the pain. Go figure.

The first time I tried was the first time she hit me, and told me I deserved it. I thought that maybe everyone was right and there was something wrong with me, and I thought I wanted to die.

I was wrong, of course. Dying is a very complex, difficult thing, and it has to be a long, drawn-out decision. People say that suicide is the coward's way out, but they're wrong. The thing that humans fear most is the unknown, and that's why it takes more strength than to commit suicide than to keep living a life of pain.

The first time, I miscalculated. I started to cut my carotid artery – we'd learned about it in science the week before, but I didn't realize that I would faint at the sight of blood before I even got close. I guess it's different when you're the one inflicting the pain on yourself, but here's the thing – I never wanted pain. I wanted oblivion. I wanted death. If I'd wanted pain, I would have forgotten to set the table or gotten a B on a test or done something equally reprehensible that would have earned me a beating from my parents.

There were a few more attempts, with pills mostly, but I never took quite enough. I always chickened out first. Until that last time.

I was fifteen, and it was the week after she'd broken up with me. I took exactly the right number of pills this time, but I woke up in the hospital and it was the most disappointing feeling in the world. And of course, the nurses had seen the marks all over my body.

What's black and white and red all over? Me. Me with bruises and welts and burns. But I didn't say that when the little girl I babysat for told me that joke. I laughed, even though it wasn't funny. Back then, nothing ever was.

But no one ever helped me, and since I knew that they never would, I never tried again. I was a failure even at self-destruction.

Now I'm glad I never succeeded, though. I always thought that I might as well just kill myself because there was no hope left for me, that no one would ever be able to love me. But now someone does. I'd never even allowed myself to dream of such happiness when I was younger, but if I'd known then that I would have Olivia, I would have been able to cope with the pain so much better. Here, in her arms, I know that finally I'm home.

I pick up some flowers for Olivia one day on my way back to her place – on my way home – from work. Daisies, her favorite. She's working a bit late today, but she's promised that she'll be home for dinner.

I decide to make her a nice, romantic dinner. I can make veal scaloppini and we can have fondue for dessert. I can put the flowers in a vase, and put out some candles, and use the good silverware and tablecloth – assuming she has a nice one, that is. Olivia doesn't have much time for those kinds of things.

The apartment door opens an hour and a half later. "Alex!" she calls. "Where are you?"

I come out of the kitchen and give Olivia a smile and a kiss. "I made you dinner. Go get changed."

Her face softens into a look I can only describe as pure adoration, and she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's the occasion?"

"True love. There doesn't need to be an occasion. Go!"

She smiles. "You are so sweet, Alex. I love you."

She goes to change into a nice dress, although she very rarely wears dresses – only when someone forces her to. I light a few candles and put them in the kitchen, and set the table.

Olivia comes into the kitchen a moment later and sits down at the table. She beams at me. "This is wonderful, Alex. Thank you."

I smile back. "I'm happy if you are." I'm really just saying to her what she always says to me, but it brings a tear to her eye.

I reach across the table to take her hand. "I know I'm not a cook, but is it okay?"

She takes a bite of the veal. "It's delicious."

"And we have fondue for dessert!"

"Strawberries? Bananas? Blueberries? Raspberries? All of the above?"

"Yes, and better. Your favourite!"

"What's my favourite?" she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

"Marshmallows!"

She grins and kisses my hand. "That does sound even better!"

We eat in comfortable silence, and then I cut up some fruit and set out the marshmallows with a chocolate sauce I made out of melted chocolate chips. When we're done, Olivia insists on helping me clean up.

"You made dinner," she says. "It's the least I can do."

I don't feel like arguing, so I let her.

I go sit on the couch and Olivia turns on the fireplace. She finds a thick, warm blanket and drapes it over me. "I can make you some hot chocolate if you like."

I shake my head and pat the seat next to me. "Come here. I'll give you a massage."

She sits down, pulls the blanket over both of us, and smiles. "You're amazing, you know that?"

I smile and kiss the base of her neck, and I start to knead her shoulders, releasing their tension. "I've learned from the best."

She closes her eyes and lets me massage her shoulders and upper back in silence, just as she's always done for me when I need it. I love her so much.

When my hands are aching and her shoulders are a bit less tense, I stop, and Olivia leans back against me, resting her head on my shoulder and taking my hands in her own. "Thanks, Alex," she says quietly. "I needed that tonight."

I give her a smile. "I know."

She kisses each of my fingers. "I love you, princess."

I chew on my lower lip and make a decision. "Do you want me to run a bath?"

She shakes her head. "I want to spend some time with you."

"No, I mean – both of us take a bath."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Yes. Yes, I'm sure. Today is the day, and I can do this. I nod, and kiss Olivia's cheek. "I'm sure."

Her face breaks into a smile. "Great. I'll go get the lavender bath salts if you want." She catches the uncertainty ghosting across my face and says quickly, "You can keep a t-shirt on if you like, or one of my swimsuits. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"No, I'm okay."

She goes to run the bath and I take a deep breath, bracing myself. I can do this. I can do this. Yes, I can. Olivia's here, and she'll let me go at my own pace. I know she won't hurt me.

"Alex, the bath's ready!" she calls, and I go into the bathroom. She's undressed and is sitting against the bathtub. "You okay?"

I take another deep breath and nod. I'm feeling brave tonight. This will be just fine. Better than fine, in fact. Olivia loves me, and I know she'll be proud. I know she already is.

Biting my lip, I start to take off my shirt. I'm not afraid of Olivia, but I've never really done this before, not like this, and I start to tremble.

I can tell Olivia wants to wrap me up in her warm embrace, but she holds back. She waits to see what I'll do next, and I love her for it.

With shaking hands, I manage to remove my shirt, and then hug myself instinctively. "Liv?" I whisper, hating myself for this show of vulnerability but needing the reassurance now.

"Yeah, baby?"

Her eyes are full of compassion, and all of a sudden I want to cry. "Just, please – please don't tell me I'm ugly."

"Oh, sweetheart." She holds out her arms, and this time I walk into them, and allow her to soothe me physically as well as emotionally. "I would never tell you that, Alex, because you're not. You are beautiful. Beautiful. Do you understand?"

I rest my head on her shoulder and nod.

She lets me stay like that for a moment, and then lifts my chin. "You ready?"

I step back and take off my pants. I can't help my self-consciousness – Olivia is so beautiful, and no matter what she says, I know I'm not.

Finally, I'm fully undressed. I'm still trembling, but when I meet Olivia's eyes, all I see is empathy, and pride. And love.

She takes my hand and helps me into the bathtub. She guides my head to rest on her shoulder and kisses my shoulder blade. "I'm so proud of you, princess," she whispers. "You are so brave, and I love you so much."

She starts to rub my back, tracing my scars but not focusing on them, running her hands over my entire back and covering the marks with gentle kisses. I relax into her, knowing that I've made the right decision, that I'm ready now. I love Olivia. I trust her. And it feels nice, to be able to do this with her.

"You're beautiful," Olivia whispers, and kisses the crown of my head. "So, so beautiful."

I drop my gaze. "My scars –"

"Your scars aren't ugly, Alex. They show how strong you are. Battle scars. And besides, when I look at you, they're not what I see. I see you. And you are the most amazing woman in the whole world."

"Oh, Liv." To my horror, I find tears rushing to my eyes. Olivia gently brushes them away, and I smile at her. "I am so lucky to have you."

"No, Alex. I am."

"We both are. We have each other."

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