“What did they call you, baby?” He grabs my chin and turns my face back to his. “Why?” I croak out a measly response. “So I can replace every bad memory with a good one.” His words are a vow, a balm to my raw and open wounds. A promise to my shattered soul that he will help me piece myself back together. I get the feeling that he has been taking care of me longer than I know.
