What Love Isn’t

Chapter 14

March came in like a lion, bringing freezing rain and a darkness that seemed to seep into my bones.

I was failing two classes. I'd stopped turning in assignments, stopped studying for tests. I couldn't focus on anything except surviving each day, each hour, each minute.

My guidance counselor called me into her office. "Julia, I'm concerned about your grades. You've always been an excellent student, but this semester—"

"I know. I'll do better."

"Is everything okay at home? With your family?"

"Everything's fine."

"What about your boyfriend? Marcus, right?"

My blood went cold. "What about him?"

"I've noticed he's always waiting for you after school. That he drives you home every day." She leaned forward, her expression gentle. "Julia, if something's going on—"

"Nothing's going on. He's just being a good boyfriend."

"A good boyfriend wouldn't isolate you from your friends. Wouldn't make you afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

"Aren't you?"

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "I need to go. Marcus is waiting."

"Julia—"

But I was already out the door, my heart pounding. Had she seen something? Did she know?

Marcus was leaning against his car when I got to the parking lot. "What took so long?"

"My counselor wanted to talk about my grades."

His eyes narrowed. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. Just that I'd do better."

"Did she ask about me?"

I hesitated too long.

"She did, didn't she?" He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. She just—she noticed you pick me up every day."

"And?"

"And nothing. That's all."

He stared at me for a long moment, then released my arm. "Get in the car."

The drive to his apartment was silent. I could feel the anger radiating off him, and my stomach churned with dread.

As soon as we were inside, he exploded. "You told her, didn't you?"

"No! I swear, I didn't tell her anything—"

"Then why was she asking about me?" He backed me against the wall, his face inches from mine. "What did you say?"

"Nothing! I promise, I didn't say anything—"

He hit me. Hard. My head snapped to the side, and I tasted blood.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying—"

He hit me again. And again. I tried to protect my face, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

"You're mine, Julia. Mine. And if you ever try to leave me, if you ever tell anyone about us, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

"Say it."

"I understand."

"You'll never leave me."

"I'll never leave you."

He let go of my wrists and stepped back, breathing hard. "Good. Now go clean yourself up. You look like shit."

I stumbled to the bathroom and locked the door. My reflection stared back at me—split lip, bruised cheek, red marks on my wrists. I looked like a stranger.

I looked like a victim.

And maybe that's what I was.