Hurt for Me

by Heather Levy

It was better to buoy her with lies than drown her in a truth that would crush her.

“Fred once said one person’s pleasure is another person’s power. And that’s what he gave me—power.

She looked at Viv. Beautiful Viv, with her full lips always ready to smile or laugh or sing some silly song as she taught Rae how to cook. Viv, who gave without any expectation.

“Hurt is temporary, but harm is long term. And harm can also go much deeper than physical pain.

“Action without intention is like a novice artist slapping clay around, making a mess of it like you are now,” Viv once told her during a particularly grueling training session. “But if you put intention behind your commands, behind every impact on skin, that’s when clay shapes into art. That’s when you can create a masterpiece with a person’s desires.

Action without intention is like slapping clay around, making a mess of it.

“Sometimes I forget,” Viv said, almost in a whisper. “Forget what?” Viv finally looked at her, the yellow streetlights creating a shadow mosaic across her face. “How dangerous wounded animals can be.”

“You’re my friend. Nothing you tell me will make me love you less.” Rae wasn’t sure if she believed her, but she wanted so much for it to be the truth.

She’d failed to protect Beth, but she wouldn’t fail again.

“Hon, you did what you had to do. You saved that little girl, and you prevented those men from hurting more people. And the bad men.” She paused. “I think if they were coming after you, they would’ve found you by now.”

Are you going to do the work to heal from this trauma, or are you going to let this turn you into the kind of monsters you escaped from?”

A mother with secrets, like her own. Maybe all mothers had secrets. The thought gave her an uneasy comfort.

Rebirth. Rae loved the idea of her child being her rebirth, her resurrection from the hell of California.

She was a survivor, but sometimes she wondered at what point a person stops surviving and starts imploding.

Sometimes, she wanted someone to worry about her, someone who could hold and kiss her and say everything would be okay. It made her long even more to have someone greet her when she came home, someone who wasn’t an angry teenager or a hungry black cat.

Not once did the detective offer her help after the hell she’d experienced for nearly four long years.

she also knew vengeance could make a person do things they’d never dream of doing, like burning down a house.

“A detective is just a cop with a suit and a college degree, Rae-Rae.”

She wished she hadn’t pried because it only made her yearn to know more about him, and for the first time in years, she wanted someone to know her.

She was tired of feeling untethered, like she’d float away if she allowed the what ifs to take over. She wanted to escape into the pleasure she knew he could give her, and she wanted him to find escape with her too.

If there was one thing she knew about powerful men, it was that they enjoyed swinging their dicks around, displaying their authority however they could.

Rae wondered if a drink qualified as a date if the date involved trying to take down a possible sex cult.

Parenting for her was often like being trapped in a pitch-black room, and she didn’t always know how to find a lamp to shed light on situations, but then she reminded herself she didn’t have the best example to follow.

“Both of us have that power. And the risk is worth it to me to see where this goes, but if it’s not to you, then say so.”

“Because it’s easier for men to take something than to earn it,” he said after a moment. “Men are taught to take things because it shows they’re powerful. And a man without power is nothing in our society.”

“That’s one of the things I appreciate about you. You don’t sugarcoat.

Getting divorced doesn’t mean you’re abandoning Katelyn. She probably won’t understand now, but when she sees you happier, she’ll know it was the right thing to do.”

Are you going to let this turn you into the kind of monsters you escaped from?

Holding Lily felt like holding a dream made tangible. Like she had accomplished the most important thing she’d ever do in life, and it was exhilarating but also terrifying.

“This is the beginning of good things for us,” she whispered to her sleeping baby. “Just you wait.”

“If they touch her in any way, they will hurt for me in ways they’ve never dreamed.”

She already had the family she wanted and needed in her life, and she wasn’t about to open herself to more pain and loss.

She was ready to be with an open partner who knew all her secrets and still loved her and accepted the damaged, dark parts. She trusted him with her heart as he trusted her with his. It was all so new to her, but she was ready to shed her old skin and the shame and fear secreted away inside it. She was ready to live with a new version of herself.