Twenty-two

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I sat up from the position we were in, and Emma pulled her shirt back on. I just stared at her, awaiting an explanation, and it was quite apparent that she felt uncomfortable under my gaze.

"I'm waiting."

She began to look frustrated, knowing she had to tell me, but not knowing how. She balled her small hands into fists.

"It was him, okay? He did it." Her words meant nothing to me.

"Who's he?"

"I can't tell you!"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll be pissed!"

I let out a heavy breath, starting to get frustrated myself. I stood on my feet and looked into her eyes.

"I'm already pretty f*cking pissed right now Emma, so I suggest you tell me before things get worse," I threatened.

I would never even think about hurting her, but there was just something about this girl. She brought out the best, and the worst in me.

"It was Ben," she whispered, but I couldn't quite hear her.

"Who?"

"Ben!" she shouted at me, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

"Who the f*ck is Ben?!" I shouted back, equally as loud.

"My ex-boyfriend!"

These words, they had me taken back. I had a million of possibilities floating around in my head, but this hadn't even crossed my mind. It took me a few seconds to form a sentence.

"You had a boyfriend?"

She scoffed, and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Harry, I did. I know I'm ugly, but someone was able to suck it up and date me," she muttered bitterly, crossing her arms.

I shook my head, and sat back down on the bed next to her.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just," I paused, "surprised is all. How did you let this happen?"

She shrugged, seeming vulnerable again. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with them while thinking of how to respond.

"I didn't want it to happen, it kind of just did. It's hard to defend yourself when you're being beaten by a guy twice your size."

Her words felt like a knife to my heart.

"Emma, you should've gotten help. You should've told someone."

"Told who? My parents? Like they would care. Friends? I don't have any. Besides, he said it would get worse if I told anyone."

"What would get worse?"

"My beatings."

I sighed heavily, tugging at my hair. I felt so frustrated and powerless. Even though this happened in the past, I wanted to fix it and make it go away.

"Well, why did he do it? Were you not pleasing him or something?"

"That was part of it. I didn't want to give it up at sixteen. He also had major anger issues, and took it out on me."

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