“Please don’t call yourself that,” he pleads quietly, but gruffly. The soft tone catches me off guard. I look at him with confusion. Not only was I not expecting him to care what I called myself, I certainly wasn’t expecting him to ask so… nicely. Ryan’s always demanding things of me, expecting my compliance, and calling me names when he doesn’t always get it. “What?” “You’re not a whore, River. You were repeatedly raped and were forced into those situations because you were slowly dying from hunger.” Fire blazes from his eyes. I’m not sure how, but I know it’s not directed toward me, but for
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