“Don’t say that. We’re going to get through this, okay? I will find a way to fix this. You have my word.” “Uh, sure. Thanks.” And then he sweeps me into one of those rough, manly hugs he’s so big on. A healthy masculinity, he calls it, over and over again. I am suddenly filled with contempt. It takes an effort of will not to peel him off me, and I shiver with disgust. I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what he wants. I don’t care what he thinks. I am a girl. I am free. And I am never. EVER. Going back.
