“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say softly. “I think you need to.” A tear crests my cheek, and one of his hands leaves mine to wipe it away. “Tell me.” When I don’t answer, he says, “Why don’t I guess, then?” I press my lips together and nod, sniffling. “He hit you?” he asks, and I lift a shoulder. His hand drops to my shoulder before sliding down my arm to rest on my waist where it tightens. “He hurt you again?”
