There is something in her voice, the way she denies my request so adamantly, that makes me turn around and I almost jolt as she comes into view. The way she’s gripping her arm like she wants to comfort or control herself, the anxiety in her eyes, stirs a roiling anxiety.

Something presses on the back of my mind and I know I shouldn’t, but I dig deeper, feeling the crawling need to confirm my suspicions.

And so before I know it I’ve voiced the one question I shouldn’t ask, that I promised not to ask.

“It’s your brother, isn’t it?”

She jerks as if punched and the horror strikes me as she lifts her face, in her eyes a silent confirmation. I can’t help but imagine what he must have put her through, what he must have done for her to look at me like this. It ripples through me. All the pain she must have endured…all the fear, the anguish. I should take her into my arms, tell her that it’s okay, that I would do anything to protect her. But I’m stunned, unable to voice any of the comforts I should be relaying.

Her lips curl in disgust, her shoulders tense and trembling. She spins and sprints out the door and her sudden movements startles me as much as her tear-filled expression. I know if I let her leave now, I’ll never see her again.

I rush after her as she crashes into the hallway and runs for the front door, like a cornered deer hunted by a hungry wolf.

“Mona!” I shout, but she’s not listening. She grabs the handle and it looks like she’ll flee without even putting shoes on.

“Mona!” I catch her just as she’s about to open the door.

“Get off of me!” she shouts, her voice trembling with either anger or sorrow. I can’t tell. But I mustn’t let her leave.

“Mona, Mona…I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I stammer, desperate to reach any part of her that isn’t lost to instinctual fear. I wrap my arms tight around her and she struggles like I’m a beast trying to devour her, screaming and flailing. But as she kicks me over the shin the pain seems dull compared to the one in my chest.

“Please don’t leave” I plead, desperate to make the woman, I’d finally managed to win over, stay.

“Let go of me! I don’t need your fucking pity!” she screams and her words and the pain in her voice ripples through me, but I don’t loosen my grip.

“It’s not pity! It’s not…” I tell her and hear my voice crack.

“You’re a liar! You’re a fucking liar!” she yells, scratching and fighting. Why did I press this button when I knew I shouldn’t? Why do I keep making mistakes like these? I am a fucking liar. An untrustworthy, promise-breaking scumbag. This strong, beautiful woman doesn’t deserve someone as unreliable as me. Yet, selfish as I am, I can’t let her go.

“I know…I know! I said I wouldn’t ask and breaking that promise makes me a liar. I’m so sorry! But, Mona, I don’t pity you! I don’t!”

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Her voice turns into a whimper as she tries to formulate a retort, but I can’t understand her words. All I understand is that she’s still trying to get away. From me.

I slide us onto the ground, needing to preserve the strength in my arms to keep her restrained. I’m too afraid of what would happen, should a let go for just a moment.

“You’re a liar… You’re a fucking liar…” she sobs.

“I’m sorry, Mona… I’m so sorry.” My voice trembles and my heart feels swollen as it presses against my ribs, aching with every thump.

“Fucking liar…” she repeats and then again. It seems like it’s the only sentence she’s capable of speaking as her strength wanes and her voice reduces to a murmur. The only response I seem to able to formulate is: “I’m sorry.”

After a while she lies slumped in my arms, her voice faded and unconsciously I’m stroking her hair.

“Mona…?” I whisper. She is quiet and I don’t know what to make of her lack of response but decide I might as well try to talk to her while she’s calm and exhausted.

“Mona, I don’t pity you. You are so strong…so beautiful. You really are. I don’t suppose to know everything that happened, but if it’s what I suspect it doesn’t change how I view you. You are still amazing, tough, smart…and I love you.”

She is quiet for a moment, then she chuckles. A cold, mechanical sound.

“Oh, really? You think I’m amazing and that you love me? Do you understand what my brother did to me? The ways I’ve been soiled?”

She jerks and I’m unprepared for the sudden motion, so she slips out of my arms and turns around before I can respond. And her icy, hardened stare silences any words. It makes every hair rise on my body and I swallow as she continues, her voice completely voided of emotion or warmth.

“Everything we’ve ever done together; he’s done to me – and more. He’s fucked me in every hole, in every position. He has whipped me, cut me, burned me and I’ve lied to you about everyone of those scars. For years I fucked my own brother and was his submissive. Now tell me: Can you really look at me the same now that you know?”

Pain lances through me. She’s probably not even aware of the tears trickling down her otherwise hardened features. I know she expects me to recoil and though I have the urge to, I know I’ll lose her if I do. Irrevocably. So I swallow and force myself to look her in the eye, despite the fear clawing at my chest.

“No, I guess I can’t…” When I speak the words she expected to hear, she jerks away but I catch her wrist and force her to look at me. I’m not done. “It hurts to know what has been done to you and I’m absolutely disgusted with your brother, but not with you. You are even stronger than I thought. And I still love you.”

My heart thunders in my chest as I maintain my stare, watching her eyes first widen, then turn to narrow slits, but she has trouble meeting my gaze.

“You lie” she hisses.

“I don’t. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t believe me.” She forces herself to meet my eyes and I repeat: “I love you.”

She flinches and disbelief ripples across her features. “How…?” she stammers and I almost chuckle at her response but manage to turn it into a soft smile instead.

“Does it matter?” I ask and reach to cup her face. When she doesn’t recoil from the touch, I decide to pull her in close instead. She resists a bit at first, but the attempt seems half-hearted and I soon have her back in my embrace. Her warmth against me feels calming and from the way her body slumps and her breathing slowly settles, it seems mine has the same effect on her. Then suddenly she trembles. Her breathing becomes ragged and I hear her sob. I don’t know what is making her cry… Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the memories of her brother or maybe it’s just the echoes of her turmoil. It doesn’t matter. It’s the first time she’s been so openly vulnerable in front of me, the first time I experience her so honest and without filter. It’s heart-wrenching and beautiful at the same time and I just stroke her hair while telling her it’s okay.

I here now and I’m not letting her go. I’m not sure I deserve her, and I might hurt her again, flawed as I am, but I’m going to do my best.

I won't fail someone again.