Page 67 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

“I’m sorry,” she screams. “I’m not perfect. I’m sorry you didn’t know. But you need to leave.”

I whip around to find tears streaming down her cheeks and realize I’ve made another mistake. “You think I’m angry with you?”

“I have no idea how they found out about it,” she continues like she didn’t even hear me. Her hands twist together. “I was in therapy before university, and I saw a private counselor my first year of college. There was a relapse a year ago, but that was all confidential.”

“You no longer have secrets, Clara.” I took that from you when I took you.

“I realize that now. I realize I owe you an explanation, but—”

“You owe me nothing,” I cut her off, doing my best to keep my voice soft. I want to soothe her, not add to her stress. I close the space between us and take her chin in my hands, directing her tear-filled eyes to mine. “Do you understand that? You owe me nothing.”

Her head shakes, and I understand her a little more. I know what it’s like to cling to whatever control life gives you. I want to carry her away, somewhere safe where no one will ever touch her. But the only way to truly protect her is to walk away, and looking at her now, seeing her rise as they try to tear her down, I realize that’s impossible. I’ll never give her up. I want her too much.

“I need you to understand,” she murmurs, still caught in her own thoughts.

Do I tell her it’s not important to me? That seems wrong. It’s important to her. Do I tell her everything will be okay? That’s a lie. We both know it. I can only tell her the truth I feel as certainly as the beating of my own heart. “If you need me to, I will listen. But you don’t owe me an explanation. Nothing you say will change anything between us.”

“Then go.” She yanks free from me, turning her face so I can’t see her pain.

“I don’t want to go.” I step closer. I want to take away the hurt she’s feeling. I want to show her that she’s the one I want—that her flaws only make her so much more beautiful to me. “What do you think I’m saying to you?”

“I understand.” Her eyes stay cast to the floor. “You don’t need more drama in your life. You don’t need a girlfriend who has to actively construct positive thoughts about her body and set alarms to remind herself to eat. I don’t blame you for that.”

Fuck, is that what she thinks? That I want some plastic doll hanging from my arm? I never wanted anyone by my side until she stumbled into my life. I tried like hell to stop myself from falling for her, but how could I not? Why can’t she see herself like I do?

“I’m not leaving you,” I tell her. “I never wanted perfection. I wanted you.”

She sways, and I catch her. If only I could always be near enough to do that, maybe we could make this crazy situation work. I guide her to the bed, holding her close. Nothing will convince her that I want to stay—except staying.

“I still want you to understand.” She turns into me, nuzzling closer, and for the first time all day, I relax.

I nod, determined to listen.

Clara begins her story slowly, her voice shaking slightly, and I tighten my arms around her.

“It started at school. My mother insisted that I attend an exclusive academy in California, and as usual, my father gave in. I didn’t want to go. I was fourteen, and my friends were my life, but I had no say in the matter. I guess that made the transition worse, and I had a hard time meeting people.” She takes a deep breath before plunging forward. “Finally, an older girl took me under her wing. She taught me about makeup and boys. For some reason, I thought she was really popular. Probably because she seemed happy. And then one day, she went into the bathroom and threw up after lunch.”

I tense. I hadn’t bothered to read the lies the tabloids printed, so hearing the truth from her now is jarring.

“She pushed me to try it, and when I wouldn’t, she started dropping little hints. There was a roll around my bra strap. She slapped my thigh in the locker room and laughed as it jiggled. So one night, I went with her after dinner and threw up. It was hard for me, and it took so long for me to do it while she stood there and teased me. When I finally did it, I decided I couldn’t do it again. I hated it, but she was my only friend.” She manages a sad smile. “After all these years, I still feel stupid when I tell this story.”

I force her to look up at me. “You are not stupid.”

She needs to hear it, even if she won’t believe it. I know because there have been so many times I needed someone to tell me that my demons were real, but that they didn’t define me.

“I wasn’t smart, though. I believed her when she said my parents had sent me away because they were ashamed. I believed her when she said the thinner I got, the more popular I would become. By the time I went home for Spring Break, I weighed less than a hundred pounds. My mom—” she breaks for a moment, and I kiss her forehead, hoping it makes her feel safe enough to continue. “My mom started crying when she saw me. They pulled me out of school, and she drove me to therapy every single day because she wouldn’t let them admit me. That summer we moved to England. Dad thought it would be a better environment for me. Maybe he was right.”

“He was right.” I want to send him a goddamn thank you card for removing the ocean that was once between us, for bringing her to London, for bringing her to me. “Because you’re here with me now, poppet.”

Her hand presses against my chest for just a moment like she’s checking to see if I’m real. “I’ve done really well with therapy. I learned my eating disorder was a coping mechanism that I used when I was stressed or lonely. I stayed in therapy until my second year at university, and then I met Daniel.”

“The one who tried to break you?” She’d mentioned him before. I had the sense he didn’t want to run into me any time soon.

“I should have seen through him.” Her voice is full of regret.

“Don’t make excuses for him.” I hated men that did that to women. Men who manipulated and twisted. Men who were so fragile they used others like human shields.

“It was fine for a while, but then things changed. He changed. One minute he made me feel like the most important person in his life, and the next, I was the reason he was miserable. He criticized how much I ate, pointed out how little I exercised. He competed with me for grades. When my parents gave me access to my trust fund, we came home after my birthday party, and I told him I was tired.”