“I grip him. "Don’t leave me."He kisses my lips, "Never again. This isn’t me leaving you. This is me choosing you." He throws my words back at me.He kisses me once more and then pushes off. He leaves and doesn’t look back. I fight the urge to run after him.”

“He grabs my hands and lifts them up in the air. I grip the railing on the top of the bed."Don’t move those hands," he whispers into my nape. I nod and lick my lips. I'm on my tiptoes. My breath is catching and coming out spurts of rough air. His hands run down my arms. I shiver and pant. His lips brush the back of my neck. He sweeps my hair to one side, kissing down my shoulder blade. Heat and nerves battle low in my belly as his hands grip my hips, pulling me back to him."Don't let go of that railing, Sarah." His words are growled between kisses and licks. I hear the menacing threat in them.”

“He steps forward and kisses my forehead. His breath is soft, devastating warmth on my face. He turns and leaves. He chooses survival over me. It's no different than what I have done. We are both just trying so hard to survive me.”

“I still can't believe you kicked me.""I didn’t want to. I needed to."I glance at him as we leave the dorms, "Keep telling yourself that."He grins his cocky, shitty grin, "Keep telling yourself the paddle doesn’t turn you on."I snort and hate that he knows so much about me. My cheeks are on fire just hearing the word paddle.”

“I laugh nervously and jerk my hand free, "I want the you that tilts his head back and eats the snow. I want the you that holds me and snuggles into me. I want him, but you hardly ever show him to me. I see a glimpse of him and then it's you that’s back." I point disappointedly. "I want the sweet guy who puts his hand out for me."His eyes fight something. His lips tighten, "He's in here too. I think there are a few of us.”

“He smiles and the world is okay. It feels like it grew a tiny bit. Like I let him into the small corner where I live. He grabs my hand, squeezing it and kisses the top of it, "Now stop trying to scare me off with talks of having kids and area rugs and shit. I'm not going anywhere.”

“He clears his throat, "Have you considered he sees you as a girl at school? Not all girls are whole when you meet them. Sometimes you have to help them get there. Right now, you are a broken girl. That doesn’t mean that you'll always be broken. That doesn’t make you less of a girl." He clears his throat again, "I'll call the doc. She'll want to talk to you."The tears in my eyes don’t come out. They stay in there like tiny kaleidoscopes, trying to make the world the way I need it to be. My words don’t come right away either. I don’t hear the click on his end when I whisper, "I'm not broken." But he isn’t there. He never really is. He is the master of not being there.”