I Know Where You Live

by Gregg Olsen

“It plays in my mind all the time, Mom. So don’t tell me that it was a long time ago. Time doesn’t erase what happened.”

Ellie wore a stack of bangles on her left arm to hide the telltale striations from a razor or box cutter. She noticed my eyes landing there. “That was, my doctor insisted, a coping mechanism. I considered it a distraction at best. Nothing helped me cope. Keeping a journal. Medication. Counseling. None of it, well intentioned as it was, did a fucking thing to make it go away. Only one thing worked.”

Loneliness and despair are tricksters. Both of which make me a worthy target.

He drops two glassy balls of craft ice into a glass and pours himself a scotch. A double, by my calculations. Maybe it takes a triple to be in the same room with me.

Up to that point, it felt like one of those times when you were a kid and you messed up. You knew you were going to get in trouble, but when nothing happened, you thought you were out of the woods. Stupid me. Pathetic me.

I wasn’t going to fight. Not because I didn’t have the strength. More because I knew I couldn’t.

He finds moments in our stilted conversation to be charming even though the neck of our life together is in a guillotine.

I look at myself in the mirror and vow to burn the dress after today.

how the mere fact of being a girl could bring devasting, unwanted, horrific attention.

Telling a stranger your business only gives them power to hurt you even more.

the only people who can really hurt you are those who know you.