Chapter Forty-Eight #3
He looks at me and frowns. “Not if I can help it, it won’t. When you’re ready, we will get your medical records adjusted to the correct information. Your mental health should have no bearing on whether your husband raped you or not.”
“Ex-husband,” I remind him.
“Would you want to report him now?” I shake my head.
“No. I’ve done so much work to repair the damage done to me by others, that to open myself up to the criticism of people and risk being sent back to the dark places I’ve come from, just isn’t worth the pathetic percentage of a conviction.” I ponder my thoughts for a moment, and we sit in silence.
“There is an exception to my decision, though,” I say.
“Which is?” He leans his head back against my chair, still careful not to touch me.
“If I ever heard of him acting inappropriately to girls or women again, I would make it my mission to ensure he could never do it again.”
“You mean you’d TP him?”
“TP? What does toilet papering have to do with punishing a rapist?” I ask.
He bursts into laughter. “Oh, you sweet, innocent soul. I meant The Taxipenist!” I join him in his laughter, my hands over my face.
“For fuck’s sake. Now I think about it, it’s so fucking obvious.
But yes, that’s exactly what I mean. The voices always said, ‘We’ll always be in your head, Quinn.
You can’t get away from us now. Do us all a favour and kill yourself, bitch.
’ But they’re not there anymore. Now that stuff is out of my system, there’s been nothing but silence.
Except for my inner monologue, who can be an utter asshole, but I’m working on that. ”
“I’m so proud of you. Is there anything else you’ve remembered?
Other than waking up with injuries?” I reach out to play with his hair, knowing I need to keep myself in the present as I relay this part of the memory.
“There was one night that I now distinctly remember. I’d felt tired in the evening, but not normally tired, like the kind that you feel after you’ve taken sleeping tablets.
” I take a deep breath, like Lulu taught me to stave off the panic of feeling like I’m back in that moment.
In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.
“The only thing I really remember is waking up, and he’s on top of me, fully seated inside of me.
Sweat is dripping from his forehead, and he’s going for gold.
When he realises I’m awake, he freezes. I push him off me and ask him what he’s doing, and he tries to convince me I was awake.
That I was enjoying it. And then when he realises that isn’t working, he tries to convince me I wanted to try somnophilia.
Which, now, with you, I would consider because I know what it is, but back then, I didn’t, so I wouldn’t… ”
“You don’t need to convince me, Magpie. I believe you.”
I blink, and tears wet my cheeks. I didn’t even realise I was crying. “I don’t know why I’m emotional. I’m not sad. It happened years ago.”
“You’re emotional because you were raped, Magpie. Not by a stranger, but by your husband. A man you’re supposed to trust with your entire being. And that man betrayed that trust.”
I suppose he’s right. “Anyway, that was the end of our marriage. I told him if he didn’t leave, I would report him to the police and tell everyone what he had done.
Since the idiot later admitted it in messages, I had more than enough proof.
It took five years to get him to sign the papers, and the only reason he did was because he thought I was going to give him another chance.
Throughout the process, though, I was sent screenshots of messages from women he had cheated on me with, where he admitted the only reason he married me is because he thought I was going to get a payday, and marrying me ensured he would get half.
Explains why it happened so quickly and why there wasn’t a proper wedding.
I didn’t even get to wear a wedding dress. ”
“Doesn’t even deserve the title of a man. So many men want to focus on it not being all men, and it’s not, but you never know which ones it is. If you can’t even trust that the man you marry isn’t going to drug you in order to have sex with you, then what hope do the good ones have?” He sighs.
“I know you would never do any of these things to me,” I reassure him.
“I know. It’s just the knowledge that even after the ones we’ve managed to save, there are so many more not even on our radar. The idea that we can't save them all really does terrify me.”
“Bones, look at me.” I wait until his eyes meet mine before I continue.
“You may not be able to save them all; that’s life, unfortunately.
Not everyone is ready to be saved or wants to save themselves, and for many that comes too late.
But, for the ones you do manage to save, their lives go on to be something they thought they could never have because you were a stepping stone for them.
Without that stepping stone, they would have drowned. ”
“I suppose. I’m just glad we managed to help keep you from drowning.” He reaches his hand up to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin.
My eyes flutter closed at the action. “Me too, baby, me too.”