I clench my fists by my sides, and internally count to five before I explode. Madison continues, lost in the past as she recounts her gory tale.

“Stuff…went on for three years, and I…hated it. It would always start out the same. He would switch off the light, like the darkness would hide his sins. But it never did. I should have told my mom, but I…oh, God,” she cries, covering her face with her hands.

I can’t stay still a second longer and rush over to her side, scooping her up in my arms. She comes willingly and cries into my neck, her ice-cold body trembling in my embrace.

I don’t want to coo at her and tell her it’ll be all right because I know her story has only just begun. I allow her to cry and don’t push for her to continue as I know tonight’s confession was a big one to make. But she pulls out of my embrace, wiping her tear-stained eyes.

“There’s more,” she says, her lower lip wavering.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I reply, brushing her matted hair off her face.

“I know, but I want to,” she sadly declares, and I nod.

Taking a deep breath, she continues. “I hated my body, and I blamed my mature figure for evoking Dylan’s behavior. The bigger girls at school were teased and ridiculed, and no boys liked them, so I thought if I was like them, then maybe Dylan would stop liking me too. I gained about fifteen pounds, pigging out on all the greasy foods and desserts I could stomach without being sick.”

The moment she mentions desserts, I now understand why Madison has such a sweet tooth. She used food as a defense mechanism against her incestuous brother. But I have a feeling that was only a short-term solution.

“For a while, it worked. Dylan seemed distracted, and the late-night visits stopped. I thought everything was going to be okay, and by this stage, Mom had met a wonderful man and they were engaged to be married. Mom didn’t have to work late nights anymore because Sebastian was filthy rich and he wanted to provide for us. We moved into Sebastian’s home a few months later, and Sebastian loved us like his own kids. I saw him as my savior because, once he entered the picture, Dylan left me the hell alone.

“However, on the night of Dylan’s eighteenth birthday, things changed. We had a party for him at Sebastian’s house. It was a great night, and things were slowly getting back to normal. After the celebrations were over, I went to bed and left my door unlocked. I’d got into the habit of locking my door, not that it mattered because Dylan would always find a way in. But that night, I felt safe enough and left my door ajar. I was stupid.”

We’re sitting side by side, and I can’t stop myself as I reach out and brush her cheek. “Go on, but only if you want to.”

Madison leans into my touch and nods.

“I had just fallen asleep but was awoken by a hand covering my mouth. I tried to scream but I was trapped under the full weight of my drunken…brother. I tried fighting him off but he was too strong, and after a while, I gave up,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I should have fought harder, but I was just so scared, and I was tired of fighting him. I just wanted him to leave me alone. But that night was different, he was rough and he wanted…more. His words haunt me till this very day,” she shakily confesses. “All he said to me was ‘You’ll do this, Sunny. If you love me, you’ll do this.’ Sunny was his nickname for me. He said I was his sunshine, which is ironic, seeing as I always felt nothing but darkness when I was near him.”

I hate to even imagine what she means by “this.” I try my hardest not to smother her and allow her to finish, because I know her tale is one she has never told a soul.

“I just…he raped…it hurt so bad. I should have fought harder,” she repeats, shaking her head, unable to finish.

“Madison, I’m so sorry.” I sigh, rubbing her arm. “This isn’t your fault. It’s your brother’s,” I spit, unable to say the word without clenching my teeth.

“It is my fault. I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I should have told my mom. I should have done a lot of things,” she cries, wiping her eyes.

“You were only a kid,” I reply, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, but allowing her the space she needs.

“You don’t understand. I should have told my mom because, that night, someone saw,” she whispers, and I pull back, stunned by her confession.

“Someone saw you and…?” I question, but can’t bring myself to say the words I want to say.

“Yes,” she replies, her eyes filling with new tears.

“Who?” I ask, my rage boiling to the surface.

Madison shakes her head, closing her eyes in defeat. “It was someone who should have saved me because she knew what he was doing the entire time. She saw him taking away my innocence. She heard me calling out for help. But instead of helping me, she closed the door. And the next day, she acted like she didn’t witness a thing.”

But I can’t let this rest, I need to know who, so I can find both motherfuckers and kill them. “Tell me,” I press, lightly gripping her upper arms and beseeching her to tell me.

The moment I touch her, Madison’s body freezes up and she yelps in terror. “Please let me go,” she begs, choking on her fear.

I instantly let go when I realize how hard I’m holding onto her, and she scurries away from me, her back hitting the headboard.

“I’m sorry, Madison,” I remorsefully say, hands raised in surrender. “I would never hurt you. I’m just, I—”

“You’re what? Disgusted? Shocked? Think that I’m sick?” she barks, her cheeks flushed.

“What?” I ask, aghast. “No. How could you even think that?”

“Because that’s what I think of myself!” she replies angrily.

Her hurt has vanished, and is now replaced with rage.

“None of this is your fault,” I say again, but she cuts me off, enraged.

“Stop it! It is my fault! I should have screamed. I should have said no. I should have told my mom, but I just couldn’t. After Dad left, she was a broken woman. I couldn’t tell her, her son was—” she says with a repulsed look. “She worked so hard, sacrificing everything to put food on the table, and when she met Sebastian, it stopped. But still, I should have told her.”

Madison covers her face with her hands, and I can see she’s teetering close to the edge.

“I’m disgusting, Dixon. I’m dirty and unclean.” She begins scratching at her flesh, trying to cut away her pain.

“No, you’re not,” I press, placing a palm over her hands, as her punishing fingernails are drawing blood.

“Yes, I am!” she bellows, shrugging me off of her. “How can you look at me? I’m pathetic.”

Her self-hate upsets me and I can’t stop myself as I confess, “When I look at you, I see the same Madison I saw the first moment I met you—the kind, vulnerable girl I had to know. But now that I know the real you, I realize you’re not vulnerable, you’re a survivor and you’re strong.”

“I’m—” she interrupts, but I cut her off.

“You’re the girl I haven’t stopped thinking about since we first met, and you’re the girl I’m falling for,” I conclude, unable to bottle my emotions.

Her mouth pops open and mine does too, as I was not expecting that last part to slip out. But who am I kidding? Madison has gotten under my skin from the moment I met her, and no other woman has been able to take her place.

Juliet seems like a distant memory, one which I never want to relive, because this right here, this is real. It’s gritty, it’s raw, and it’s hard, but it’s everything I want because I want Madison.

“You’re what?” she says, disbelief painting her face.

“You heard me,” I reply, inching closer. “I’m completely under your spell.”

“But I’m damaged goods, Dixon,” she says, shaking her head in mistrust.

“You’re perfect to me,” I reply in a whisper, and I’ve never been more certain about anything ever before.