I don’t know how to feel about it. On the one hand, I’m happy for the distraction she provides.

On the other . . . I don’t know how I’ll survive if she leaves.

“W hat’s wrong, kitten?” Troy sneers. “Are you scared of something?” He sits at the kitchen table, one leg stretched out as he uses a sharp knife to pick the dirt from beneath his nails.

I’m cowering in a small ball in the corner of the kitchen, holding my cheek where he punched it. I’m sure there’s already a bruise forming. This morning I’d done the unthinkable. I left the house. Without Troy’s permission. It was just a brief walk down the river, but as I’d been lost in my thoughts I’d almost tripped over her foot. It’s the half-naked young woman I’d seen in the apartment a week ago. At first I thought he’d just been screwing her, but then I’d seen him hold out his hand expectantly. I still remember the terrified look in her eyes as she shook her head and held out her empty hands, trying to explain. I shudder as I recall the fist he’d put into her pretty face. She’d been unrecognizable by the time she dragged herself out of the apartment. And now she’s dead. Somehow, I know Troy’s responsible.

“You know,” he starts casually. “I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just listen to me and do as you’re told. You know that, right?”

I’m too scared to say anything, so I just nod in agreement.

“I mean,” he says, dropping the knife on the table and standing up, pacing back and forth as though deep in thought. “I told you not to ask about her, didn’t I?” It’s a rhetorical question.

“But you didn’t listen,” he continues. “You asked anyway, even after I told you not to.”

“Troy, I didn’t mean to. But I saw you arguing, and now she’s dead, and—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Troy screams, his face flooding with fury as he stops pacing and grabs my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. I cry out, but he doesn’t pay any attention.

“God, you’re such a fucking whiner,” he says, dragging me down the hall, his fingers biting into my skin where he grabs me. “You’ve got an excuse for everything, don’t you?”

“Troy, please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. How did the man I love turn into such a monster?

“Shut up,” he growls, turning into our bedroom and tossing me unceremoniously onto the bed. I scramble up, my eyes wide as I stare at him, terrified. He opens the top drawer of the dresser, and my stomach turns over. I know what’s coming.

“Strip and lie down on your stomach,” he demands, producing the thick, black leather belt I’ve grown to hate.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. My hands are trembling so badly as I stretch them out to him, begging for mercy.

He lifts an eyebrow to me. “Did you just say no?” he asks, almost disbelievingly. I swallow hard and shake my head.

“That’s right,” he says in a low voice as I reluctantly undress and lie on my stomach on the bed. Struggling is seen as rebellion. Rebellion must be punished.

“You know what happens when you say no, don’t you?” His voice remains calm as he walks toward the bed, pulling his pants down and folding the belt in half. “I’m forced to punish you.” His cock is hard, and I squeeze my eyes shut. The thing that once gave me so much pleasure now scares the fuck out of me.

The sharp sting of the belt cuts into my bare buttocks, and I cry out as it hits again and again.

Troy climbs on top of me, grunting as he stabs his cock into my dry pussy. I scream and lift my head off the bed, struggling to escape. “I did it,” he grunts as he pumps his cock into me. “I screwed her just like this, and then I fucking killed her, imagining she was you.” The belt goes around my neck, and I use one hand to try and pull it away as he chokes me.

Stars dance in front of my eyes, my pussy and ass are on fire, and the man I love, the man I left home for, is the reason for my pain.

“You make me do it!” He’s screaming as he chokes me. “Why do you make me do this to you? Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

I can feel myself slipping away. My hand falls from the belt and my eyes roll back in my head.

He finishes off inside me and drops the belt. Climbing off me, he stands directly in front of me as he pulls his pants back up. “This is your fault,” he says, spitting into my hair before he turns and leaves the room.

I hear the apartment door close, and I curl up into a ball in the middle of the bed. I’m naked, broken.

A wail rises from the deepest recesses of my chest, until it turns into a scream. It feels good to let it out. Tears pour down my face, but I don’t care.

He’s right. I made him do it.

I’m pathetic. Useless.

“Shannon!”

My eyes snap open and I gasp for breath. It’s dark, but the small lamp on the bedside table casts a glow around the bed, illuminating Stone’s panicked face. “You were screaming,” he says, his voice full of worry. He’s so caring that I can’t stop the flood of tears that seems to appear from nowhere.

“Ah, hell,” he curses, moving to the other side of the bed and sliding beneath the covers, taking me into his arms. He holds me as I cry, saying nothing as his large hand gently strokes my arm. I let it all out—the pain, the fear, the anger. I cry until I’m screaming, dry-heaving. My tears soak the pillow beneath me, until I finally fall into an exhausted sleep.

But he stays with me through it all. Never saying a word. He’s my rock.

My Stone.

I glance over at Shannon as she sits in her wheelchair on the back porch.

She hasn’t said a word this morning, and I’m fucking worried. What was that meltdown about last night? Was it a bad dream? A memory? I’m dying to ask her, to comfort her, but she won’t even look at me. I swallow the last of my coffee and put the empty mug in the sink, rinsing it out and smiling at the fact that Shannon’s changed me so much in such a small amount of time. I dry my hands on the back of my jeans and step onto the back porch. She glances up at me, and my heart breaks for her. Her eyes are puffy and red from her tears, and I wonder how she kept it inside for so long.

I clear my throat. “Do you want to do something today?” I ask, shoving my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

She looks away, but she nods. It’s a small victory, and I’m going to count it.

“What would you like to do?” This time, she gives me no indication that she hears me. “We could go out for lunch,” I suggest.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks me in a voice so quiet I have to strain to hear her.

“What?” I reply, squatting in front of her.

She raises red-rimmed eyes to me. “Why are you being so nice?”

I’m confused by her question. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t deserve to be treated nicely.”

I curse under my breath and grab her chin, tilting her head up to meet my eyes. “Did Troy tell you that?” She swallows hard and nods in response. “Shannon,” I say gently. “You’re probably the most special woman I’ve ever known in my entire life. No one has ever believed in me the way you do, and you’re still here even though I keep fucking up.”

“You won’t let me leave,” she reminds me with a small smile through her tears.

I can’t help but laugh. “You’re right,” I concede. “I’ll give you that one. But Shan,” I continue, looking at her seriously. “You deserve to be treated more than nicely. You deserve to be treated like the fucking queen you are. You deserve more than I could ever give you; that’s for sure.”