Then
Michael Barnes, editor of local New York magazine, charged for kidnapping ex-fiancée .
I stared at the headline, unable to tear my eyes away. The words “kidnapping,” “Hana Maynor,” and “BDSM it was a long, warm embrace where she held me tightly. I began to cry. I hadn’t been hugged in a long time, and my body was no longer accustomed to gentle, human contact. Hana didn’t pull away; she just let me cry. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel embarrassed. In that moment, she felt like an old, dear friend.
I finally let go and shook my head, laughing to myself. “Sorry, it’s been a while since someone was so unexpectedly nice to me.”
She gave me a crooked smile. “Don’t be sorry. Let’s sit.” She gestured to the booth I had been sitting at.
I sighed heavily, my breath hiccuping from my sobs.
“Thanks for meeting me. I’m sure you were shocked at my unexpected text?” Hana said as she laughed.
I nodded. “Very. What made you reach out?”
She looked down at the table for a moment. “The trial was very hard, and I was really upset that they didn’t let you testify. I thought it was bullshit. You deserved to be there; he hurt you so much.” Her voice wavered as if she was about to cry. Seeing the pain and sadness on her face as she looked up at me, I almost started to cry again too.
Instead, I just shrugged. “Someday he’ll get what he deserves. I’m just glad he’s no longer free in the world.”
She smiled and chuckled lightly. “Me too. Do you think you’ll eventually press charges against him for…for what he did to you?”
I quickly shook my head. “No one will believe me. Why bother?”
She was quiet as she studied my face. “I’m sorry. They barely believed me. What the fuck is wrong with the justice system? It makes me wish he’d just drop dead for everything he’s done.”
I smiled at the thought. “Or someone kills him.”
We both stared at each other for a moment. Her face was serious as she said, “If he ever tries to hurt either of us again, let’s just do it ourselves.”