“I’m glad the bastard’s dead for what he did to you.” “No,” I tell him, pushing at his hands. “We can’t. Not here. Not like this.” He presses me down to the floor, and I’m so out of it, I’m unable to protest other than to hiss out a breath as my back comes in contact with the cool wood. “Yes,” he says against my lips. “Just like this. I want you to remember what it feels like when I’m not there by your side. I want you to remember how strong you were when you stood up to him. How you won’t ever let anyone treat you like shit again, not even me.”
