I curl up on my bed and bury my face in my pillow as the tears come in a rush. My ability to hold myself together when Milan came to find me was weak at best, and when I finally saw his face and heard his voice, I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to him without bursting into tears, so I ran instead.

My door creaks open.

"Leave me alone," I sob. "Haven't you done enough to ruin my life already? Aren't you happy yet?"

Petre pads across the carpeted floor and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care," I mumble, and I'm being honest.

I really can't bring myself to care if Petre feels remorse for hurting me like he has. He's not letting me go, so in my books, he's not really sorry. Even if he is, it doesn't matter. The consuming pain in my soul is the only thing that matters. I wrap my arms around myself, shying away from him when he tries to touch my arm.

"Meri..." His brown eyes are sad.

"Leave me alone," I whisper, my gaze going distant as I stare at the wall blankly. Tears slide unhindered down my cheeks, and I lay still. When he reaches out again, I don't move. I just stay still, unable to bear any more.

Weariness pulls at me. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of trying to be brave and kind. Most of all, I'm tired of losing everything I care about the minute I have a reason to live.

"I didn't know he was coming. I thought you'd want to see him one last time."

"So that I could lie to him about being here of my own volition?" My eyes shut as he takes my fingers in his hand and squeezes them.

"You came back of your own volition. If you didn't want to be here, why come back?"

"Because I had to!" I finally snap, sitting up and shoving him away from me. "I came back because I knew you would never let me be. I came back because I love him, and I knew that you'd hurt him if I didn't return. I did it for my mother too because I can't just give up on her. Now I see that she's finally happy and turning her life around. She doesn't need me anymore to heal because she loves you." I shove him again. "She loves you, and you've chosen to force your affections upon me instead. Why don't you try loving your wife instead?" I hiss.

He stares at me and then down at my hands, which are still pressed to his chest in mid shove. My chest heaves as I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "I never thought I could hate anyone, but you've proven me wrong. I hate you for ruining my whole life. Maybe I should be thanking you for helping my mother, but I know you didn't do it for her, so how can I?" My words tumble out, and I can't seem to stop them even though I'm beginning to hyperventilate and cry as I talk.

The whole room takes on a surreal quality, and I jerk my hands away from him. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I rest my head on my knees and rock back and forth. "Please just go..." I whimper. "I can't do this anymore... Let me go..."

Petre stands up. "Are you going to be okay if I leave? You won't commit suicide?"

"Like you care..." The anger is back, and I wonder if I'm actually mental like Petre said I was a month ago. I get off the bed, not caring what's right or wrong anymore. "I'm more likely to slit your throat first, you pig. Maybe then I can be happy." I try to slap him.

He catches my wrist before I can and tugs me against him. "Stop, Meri. I'm not hurting you right now. I promised you that I'd wait if you wanted me to. I'm giving you a place to stay, and there aren't very many stipulations attached. Now can you please be grateful instead of forcing me to put up with this asinine behavior? Since when have you yelled, shoved, and hit people?"

"Since you made me scared to death of being abused by two people and taken advantage of. Since you've insisted on touching me not just when I tell you no, but also in inappropriate ways. Since you've forced me to abandon the people I love just so that I can keep them safe. Since you're giving me an ultimatum for the end of the week. That's since when!" My throat tightens as I go limp in his grasp. "I've learned to stick up for myself, but I guess it's not enough to keep me from getting hurt. Maybe it never will be."

He winds his fingers through my hair and lets go of my wrist to wipe away my tears. "I never meant to make you afraid," he says, but there's a glint in his eyes that tells me he's feeling guilty.

"You did. Maybe you don't anymore... But I know you meant to before."

"I felt bad for you when I first saw you, you know..."

I go still, wondering what he means. "At my mother's place?"

"No. I first saw you sitting on the steps outside her house one summer night when she'd kicked you out. There was a party raging inside, and when I came over, you just let me in without a word. You'd been crying, and there was a clear handprint on your cheek."

"If you felt bad, why did you join her in abusing me?" I ask, genuinely curious now.

Petre's probably just trying to play my emotions, but I really do want to know. I want to try to understand this sick reality I've been forced into. He's made my life miserable, and I want to know why. What justified it for him?

"I never hit you. Never."

"Except when you were drunk."

"I didn't know what I was doing, and I apologized after."

I think about that for a long moment. Now that I'm quiet and considering it, I remember that he always apologized for any injuries I sustained when he was drunk. He always seemed genuine about it too. He'd never apologized for touching me or making me uncomfortable, but he made sure he apologized if he'd hit me.

It didn't make it okay, but at least he'd meant it.

"Why drink at all if you knew you'd get violent?"

"Your mother wanted me to, and I felt bad saying no," he said, shrugging. "She's lonely too... Or she was."

"And you'd make her worse than lonely by abandoning her for me?" I snap, pulling away.

"Love matters more to me."

"You don't love me!" I glare at him. "You just want me. Lust and love are never the same. If you loved me, you would've respected my body and me when I told you no. You wouldn't keep me from the people I love. You wouldn't force me to choose between letting you have your way with me secretly or breaking my mother's heart so you can wed me properly. You'd give me the option to leave you if that's what would make me happy."

He looks away. "What would you know? You're still a child."

"More than you, apparently," I say, turning away. "Because you don't have any self-control or love in you, and I do. I can forgive you, Petre. It'll be hard. But I can. I cannot, however, love you. Not the way you want me to. Maybe I could love you as a father if you could act like one. But you can't, so that won't happen either."

"Please... Just give me a chance."

"No."

"A week, Meri... Give me a week to convince you."

"No!" I snap, storming over to my bed. "I don't want to, and I won't. Get out. I'm tired, and thanks to you, I'm more irritable than I've ever been."

He hangs his head and walks out, which surprises me. I expected him to fight or force his company on me. He's been dominating me for the last year right along with my mother, but now he's doing as I say.

I feel guilty as I lay back down. I shouldn't snap at anyone like that, no matter how badly they're treating me. But I have to stand up to him. Kindness didn't work. Firm words didn't stop him. Maybe being nasty and intolerable will. He needs to stay away from me. I'm too young for the things he wants from me, and no one should be forced into the position he's placed me in.

You weren't forced. You came back of your own volition... his voice sneers at me.

I close my eyes with a sigh and wrap my arms around myself. Then I curl into a ball and try to ward off the tears. I only came back to keep other people safe. I want Milan back so badly. I want him to be here, holding me and singing me to sleep with that lilting voice of his. Hugging the pillow to my chest, I try to imagine that he's here with me, singing and playing with my hair as I drift off to sleep in the gloaming of dusk.

***

I spin around in circles, laughing as the breeze ruffles my hair. Daisies and daffodils dot the rolling plains and meadows as I dance down the hillside with a giddy smile. Warmth trickles through me as the sun smiles down on me from the cerulean skies.

Milan waits at the base of the hill. I fly down the slope to meet him, throwing myself into his arms. He hugs me tightly as I bury my face in his neck with a laugh. He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.

"How was your day?" he murmurs as the sound of laughing children tickles our ears.

I grin. "Wonderful. The kids are picking flowers. Dalia wanted to give you daisies. She convinced Ethan to help her make them into chains. You want to see?"

He smiles. "Hmm... In a minute." His gaze flicks down to my mouth. "First..."

I lift my face to his, and he presses his lips against mine softly. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I deepen the kiss, letting my eyes shut gently. He pulls me closer to him with a soft sigh as he breaks the kiss.

"I love you," he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine once more.

"Love you too... But we really should go see what those two troublemakers are up to. Otherwise, they'll come looking."

"Well, Dal's eight now. Old enough to watch over her brother."

"You can wait until tonight when they're in bed, Mil," I scold.

He pouts as I reach up to ruffle his hair, standing on tiptoes to reach. "Fine... Let's go see what Dalia's made." He grabs my hand and tugs me up the hill towards the children with a laugh.

My eyes slip open as the sun peeks through the shades. A tear slides down my cheek as I remember where I am. The dream was such a happy one, and I want to go back to that peaceful meadow where I was safe with Milan and happy.

The blankets are tangled around my legs, and I'm still clutching the pillow to my chest. Tears come quicker as I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my sobs. I never knew it was possible to miss one person so much, but I don't know if I can live with it anymore.

Getting up, I wander into the bathroom adjoining my room. The tiles are cold beneath my feet as I open the medicine cabinet and pull out a bottle of pills. There's no razor in any of the drawers or on the shelves, so I turn back to the pills. Can I really do this? I ask myself, my fingers trembling as I open up the bottle.

I won't let him defile my body, and he'll never let me go, so the only way out is to die, I rationalize, tipping a handful of the pills into my hand. They roll about in my palm, shining slightly in the light. It looks like they're Tylenol PM. I stare down at the handful of pills and then look at the cup sitting on the sink. It would be so easy to finish it.

The door to the bedroom flies open, and Petre comes in. "Meri?"

I jump, my eyes going wide as I hide the pills behind my back and stand in front of the bottle. Even if I can't finish it now, I don't want my only chance to do it taken away.

He comes to the bathroom door and looks me over with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing?"

I bite my lip and stare at him. "Nothing."

"What are you hiding?" he growls, coming closer.

Instinctively, I back up, looking away.

His gaze flicks to the sink and the countertop, and my heart sinks as I realize my mistake.

The open, half-empty bottle of Tylenol stands proudly on the countertop, incriminating me. I swallow hard as he looks at me with a hard look in his eyes. When he strides to me, I back up further until my back hits the tiled wall.

I flinch when he slams his palms against the wall on either side of my head. "Please don't hurt me," I whisper, still hiding the pills behind my back. "I... I just had a headache, and I found those. It's all you have up here. I didn't want to ask, and I thought the door was locked."

"Really?" he whispers, his voice gruff. "You're a horrible liar..."

His hands slide slowly down the wall to my hips. Roughly, he tugs me away from the wall toward him. At the same time, he yanks my hand from behind my back and forces my trembling fingers open. His body traps me against the wall again as he stares down at the handful of capsules. When he finally drags his hard gaze back up to mine, I realize just how horribly I've messed up. What will he do to me for this?

His knee presses against my thigh as I squirm. "You needed a whole handful for a headache?" he asks, glaring at me.

"Y-yes?" I stammer, refusing to meet his gaze.

He grabs my wrist and drags me to the toilet. Opening it, he forces me to drop all of the pills into the bowl and then tosses the remaining ones in the bottle after them. Then he flushes it and turns back to me. "You won't take the coward's way out."

"I wouldn't need to if you weren't planning to..."

He raises a brow. "Planning to what? Force myself on you?"

"Yes!" I say, backing away again.

There's really nowhere to go. He's blocking the door to the room that has become my cage, and I can only move further into the bathroom. I know that, but I feel an overwhelming need to get away from him as I stare at the empty bottle in his hand.

He stalks over to the sink and slams the bottle onto the granite countertop. I flinch, closing my eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I chide myself. You should've waited until he left.

"What made you decide to commit suicide anyway?" he questions, his jaw clenching. "Yesterday you wanted to slit my throat. Why didn't you try that?"

"No razors, and you weren't here," I say weakly, trying to smile.

"So you just decided to kill yourself?" he yells.

"Yes!" I yell back. "I'm tired of living in fear, and I'm tired of being used to hurt others. If I'm dead, all of that ends!"

He stares at me, all anger wiped from his face. Nothing replaces it, and his face is empty, devoid of any emotion at all. His eyes, however, still burn with fury. He walks over to me and presses his palms to the tile wall like he had before. I refuse to look away as I stare into his brown eyes and cross my arms.

"If you want an apology," I spit. "You won't get it."

"I don't want an apology, darling. I want to know you'll never try that again."

"You're right."

He smiles sardonically. "Am I now?"

"Yes. I'll never try to commit suicide with pills. It's too easy to fix. Next time, I'll stab myself in the heart or slit my throat. That way there won't be a rescue. I can bleed to death and leave you to suffer with the guilt." I try to make my tone biting, but instead it shakes with misery.

With a frown, he steps even closer so that his forearms are against the wall, and I'm caged in again. "You wouldn't."

"I would," I whisper. "I've almost done it before, but I always had a reason not to. Show me one good reason not to now."

"Have breakfast with me," he says suddenly, stepping away and taking my hand firmly.

"Do I have a choice?" I mumble, following him out of the bathroom.

"Yes. You can stay up here and sulk over breakfast by yourself," he says without looking at me. "Do you want to do that?"

I think about it for a second and decide I don't. I'm tired of this room, and I'm tired of him, but the room is more exhausting that he is at this moment. I really never thought I'd want to spend any time with Petre, but I can't spend all my time in here. He won't let me leave without him, so if this is the only way, so be it. "No, I don't."

"Good. What do you usually eat for breakfast?"

I get quiet and stare at the floor.

"Well?" he asks, turning to look at me.

"Uh... I..."

His gaze roams over my figure. "You must eat something."

"Yeah... I have been since I moved in with... I mean... I didn't before."

"You didn't get breakfast before? What did you eat?"

"Not much," I whisper, pulling my hand out of his.

I suddenly can't stand looking at him or being near him. He's the one keeping me from going back to Milan. He's the reason why my hopes have been crushed. I shut my eyes and try to hold back the rising nausea.

Then he's holding me and stroking my hair. I flinch, gasping and starting to fight, but he's not doing anything besides holding me. He doesn't make a move to do anything else, and it isn't too uncomfortable. It's almost as though he's trying to comfort me.

That alone makes me uncomfortable. What is he trying to do? I've never seen this side of Petre, and I'm not sure if it's real or fake. I don't know what to think. Maybe he's just doing this to convince me to stay with him. He's probably just trying to get me to give him a chance despite our age gap of over ten years.

I push against his chest, and he lets go slowly. I can see the hunger in his eyes, and just like that, I decide that he hasn't changed. He's just seeing that he can't intimidate me into being with him, so he's trying to woo me instead. "I changed my mind. I'm not hungry." With that, I turn around and flee into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

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