23. Dominic #3
Lena turns and sits up beside me, head in her hands, avoiding my gaze.
“Baby?” I sit up, quieter now. “Are you okay?” I run a hand over her bare back.
“Not everything’s okay yet. But it will be. We use sarcasm as armor, you and I. Dragging skeletons out of the closet… that’s harder.”
Her voice is different now, huskier, weighted. I stroke her spine in slow circles. She’s trembling—not from cold, but from whatever war is raging under her skin.
“Baby… Lena… I think it’s time.” She doesn’t answer. But she knows what I mean. My smart, beautiful girl. “Trust me, baby. Just let it out. I’m right here.”
She turns her head and studies me. I try to ease the tension with a joke. “I’ve got nothing left to confess, love. I’m your boring good guy now. I swear.”
She shifts to face me, wraps the sheet around her body, and takes my hand in both of hers.
“Should I get you something to eat? A drink, maybe?” I offer gently, trying to ease her into whatever’s coming.
“No, don’t move or I’ll lose my nerve.”
I freeze. Barely breathing. “It’s a dark story,” she says at last. “Ugly and painful. It’s shaped my life for the past seven years. Years I couldn’t live like someone my age should have.”
Lena knots her fingers with mine. I sit up straighter against the pillows and give her the most reassuring smile I can manage.
“Maybe I should start with the most important part,” she says. “Anton hit me. He disfigured me when we were both in university. It was a brutal assault, out of control. And I couldn’t defend myself, not until the very end.”
She pauses and looks me straight in the eye. Her upper lip trembles. A shadow passes over her beautiful face. She blinks slowly, like she’s holding herself together with nothing but will.
I wrap my arms around her and press my mouth to her temple, burying every word that wants to break loose. Then the tears come. Not soft. They’re jagged, body-wracking sobs, her chest heaving against mine like her ribs might splinter. If I’d known… Anton would already be in the ground.
My baby, she cries in silence for minutes. I’m furious. Numb. And terrified, I might say the wrong thing. I hold her through it, hoping the silence says what I can’t. That she’s safe now. That I’ll never let this happen again.
Once her breathing evens out, I settle her gently against the pillows, pull on a pair of jeans, and bring back some water and chocolate from the living room. We sit cross-legged in bed, unwrapping bits of chocolate in silence. She doesn’t meet my eyes. But she stays close.
Then, finally she looks at me. And I know she’s ready to go on.
“He was in his final year. I was a junior. He came after me a few times. At first, it was the usual. Loud, cocky, full of himself. He came on strong, like I should be flattered. When I didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, he got aggressive. He’d talk shit to me in public. Nasty little jabs.”
She lets silence settle before she speaks.
“I shoved him once, hard, and thought he got the message. I was always the type to fight back. In school, I had that ‘don’t mess with me’ energy.
Anton was always hunting easy targets. He tried to humiliate me, but I stood my ground. And eventually, he left me alone.”
Lena's voice doesn’t shake. But her hands do.
The way she holds mine… tight, like she’s anchoring herself in something solid.
In me. I pull the sheet higher around her shoulders, like it might shield her from the memory.
It won’t change the past. But it’s something.
A layer of protection that wasn’t there when she needed it most, so now she doesn’t feel alone in this.
“Right before it happened, he was always hanging around this first-year girl. She lived in my dorm, but we weren’t close. To this day, I regret not warning her. I wish to God I’d said something.”
Her voice falters for a second. But she pushes through.
“One night, there was a party at another dorm on campus. He showed up with her. The second I saw him, I felt sick. I planned to leave. But something made me stay. I kept watching him. Then I saw the girl heading upstairs to the rooms. Alone. I thought about going after her. About telling him to back off or warning her myself. And then Anton went up too. With two of his buddies.”
She presses her lips together, a flicker of guilt tightening her brow. “I hesitated. Told myself maybe she was his girlfriend. Maybe it was none of my business. But I knew. I knew something was off. So I followed.”
Her eyes are far away now, locked on the memory like it’s playing out in front of her. “Upstairs, it was chaos. People were making out in corners, and the whole floor reeked of booze and sweat. The music was muffled but pounding. Nobody was paying attention. Nobody gave a damn.”
Her voice lowers, like she’s not sure if she’s speaking out loud or just trapped in the memory.
“I walked past a few doors. Then I heard a scream.” She swallows hard.
“I didn’t even think. I just ran in. It was a nightmare.
Her clothes were torn. Anton was on top of her.
The two guys were standing nearby, like they were waiting for their turn. ”
My stomach twists. I grip the sheets, digging my nails into the fabric. If I could rip that night out of her past with my bare hands, I would.
“I screamed down the hall for help. No one heard me. They dragged me inside. I punched one of them and knocked him down to his knees. Anton stood up, zipped his pants, looked me dead in the eyes, called me a ‘stupid bitch,’ and said I was ruining his fun.”
She goes quiet, and her next breath doesn’t come easily.
“I looked quickly at the girl and motioned for her to run. They were pretty drunk. That’s what saved us.
And I knew how to kick hard. My dad had taught me some basics, and I’d picked up a bit of kickboxing too.
But it didn’t matter much. There were more of them. And they were stronger.”
Her fingers tighten in mine. I shift closer, resting my forehead against her temple, but stay silent.
“The girl pulled her clothes on and backed toward the door. Anton motioned to one of his guys to go after her. I tried to bolt too. I almost made it. But the guy I’d knocked down grabbed my ankle and yanked hard.
I hit the floor. Hard. That’s when everything shifted.
I tried to fight, but I didn’t really know how.
Back then, I had no idea what real self-defense meant — the kind that keeps you alive.
I learned that later. Too late for that night, but not for everything after. ”
She pauses, and I can hear the strain in the way she exhales. I press my thumb hard into my palm, grounding myself with pain I can control, rage pushing against my skin like it’s trying to break free.
“Anton pinned me down. He climbed on top of me and held my wrists. Then let go just long enough to yank at the buttons on my shirt. I kept hitting him, but my fists were useless. His friend, still on the floor, held my legs. What saved me… was a pair of scissors. They were next to the cabinet he threw me into. I groped for them blindly.”
Lena bites down on the inside of her cheek, fists twisting in the sheets.
“When he started unbuttoning my shirt, I panicked. His weight crushed the air out of me. I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t think of anything except getting away.
So, I stabbed him. In the leg. He screamed and pulled back.
He yanked the scissors out with another scream, then came at me again.
And he punched me. Hard. Many times. Mostly my face. ”
She stops. Eyes shut. Her chest rises fast, like she’s back there again. I reach for her hand. Anchor her.
“The pain slowed him down. It probably saved me. His punches left me dazed. I lost all coordination. I couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t fight back anymore.”
I can’t breathe. Rage boils inside me. But I keep holding her.
“He finally backed off and crawled to the wall. There, he tied something around his leg to stop the bleeding. The guy who’d chased the girl came back… he said he’d lost her. Then the two of them dragged me into a closet, shoved me inside, and shut the door. And left.”
Her voice cracks. My shoulders tense, every muscle braced against what’s coming next.
“They left me there to bleed. I thought I was going to die. But I didn’t want to.
Not like that, in some locked room, alone and forgotten.
Not without fighting hard to stay alive.
I could taste my own blood. There were moments I blacked out, and moments when I came to.
I clung to each one, afraid that the next time…
I wouldn’t. Then, everything started fading, and I blacked out. ”
She looks down, quiet for a few seconds. “I woke up again. Barely. I hoped someone would find me. The dorm was shared. People came and went. I thought maybe... maybe someone would open the door. But hours could pass before that happened.”
I close my eyes for a second, trying and failing to block the image of her in that closet. Alone. “Eventually, I heard voices. With the last bit of strength I had, I kicked the door. It swung open. After that… nothing. I blacked out again. Everything else is what they told me later.”
She lets the air out in one low release. “Some students found me. They’d come back to clean up bottles and cans after the party. They called an ambulance.”
I nod slowly, like that somehow helps me process what I’m hearing. But it doesn’t. It tears me apart. “Then came the hospital nightmare. Multiple surgeries on my nose. My jaw was broken. For months, I couldn’t eat solid food. I survived on liquids, sipping everything through a straw.”
She stares ahead as if reliving it all. “My grandmother paid for everything. She stayed with me the whole time. Nursed me at her place.”
That woman… Lena must’ve been everything to her.
“I couldn’t go back to my hometown. Not at first. Not while my face was still swollen, bruised, barely recognizable. My parents knew, but I didn’t want to see the suffering in their eyes every day. My grandmother was a tough woman. She could handle me.”
She pauses, jaw tight, voice low. “Anton filed a complaint saying I was drunk and hurt myself falling into the closet door. He claimed I attacked him out of jealousy, because he was with his girlfriend.”
The bile rises in my throat.
“That girl never came back to campus. Never testified for me. Anton’s two rich buddies backed him up. Their families pulled them out of school soon after they’d covered for him.”
She finally looks at me, and her voice is low, stripped of anything soft.
“Anton walked free. His wealth and his father’s influence made sure of that. I was the one who got suspended. My scholarship was gone. And my reputation was shattered.”
She blinks, then lifts her eyes to mine. “The next year, I moved to another city, up north. I took a library job and wrote for a small paper. With help from my grandmother, I finished my degree in three years.”
There’s a kind of steady pride in her voice now. Not triumph, but endurance.
“I came back here. Mario gave me a job. Then I got hired full-time as a reporter. You know the rest.”
She pauses. “Except… my grandmother got sick while I was away studying. She didn’t tell me. By the time I moved back for good, she was already weak. She passed the year after.”
She draws in a breath. It’s not shaky now, just raw. Honest. And I sit there, holding her hand, feeling the weight of it all settle between us.
“I hate Anton with everything in me. He stole the best years of my life. I was nineteen. I had to rebuild everything. Hospitals were terrifying me. Hiding from the world until my face healed. I stayed away from my family for years.”
She swallows, looking down. “But the worst part? He stole time I should’ve had with my grandmother.” Silence. “I’ve wanted him dead. Or in prison. For so long. And last night… when you came to save me, I was this close to killing him.”
I stay silent, my heart twisted in my chest. “I feel like an idiot,” I whisper. “All this time, I was flirting with you, trying to get close… sleeping with you… having no idea what you were carrying. You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped.”
“That’s exactly what I didn’t want. To be treated like a victim.” She reaches for my hand. “You treated me like a woman. You saw me. Wanted me. Not out of pity, but like I was whole. Like I was desirable. Like I was worth loving.” She pauses. Her voice drops to a breath. “And you love me.”
She rises, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses my neck. Then whispers against my skin: “Dominic Monti… I am so in love with you.”
I turn her toward me and kiss her lips. Soft at first, then deeper. Our first kiss as two people who’ve finally said the words . She pulls back just enough to stroke my cheeks, kiss my closed eyelids, and weave her fingers into my hair.
She holds my head in her hands and stares right into my eyes. “I never trusted a man the way I trust you. I’m yours. Every part of me.”