Page 68 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

I brace myself, afraid I know what comes next. I let her go, putting enough distance between us that if my rage takes over, she won’t be in its range.

“He didn’t like that,” she continues. “He accused me of being superior to him. He said I was being elitist and that I was too snobby to fuck him. Things escalated quickly, and he almost—”

I jump up from the bed, needing more distance, certain I might actually detonate. Pacing the length of her room, I motion for her to continue.

She does, but there’s a nervous edge to her tone. “But he didn’t. Belle came home. She saw what was going on and threatened to call the police. That night should have been enough for me to see what he was doing to me, but I still thought I was in love with him. I refused to go to therapy, even though Belle pushed. I was fine. Things were under control, and then I fainted during class. At the hospital, they asked me when my last period was, and I couldn’t remember.”

I stop dead in my tracks. It’s bad enough that any other man has touched her. If he...

“I honestly thought I was pregnant, and the thought of having a baby with Daniel made me so scared that I got sick. They had to put me on oxygen and give me a feeding tube.” She forces herself to continue as she cries, “I realized that I wasn’t scared of having a baby, but I was terrified of being permanently bound to Daniel. When it occurred to me that my child would have him for a father, there was a sadness deeper than any I’ve ever known.”

Clara Bishop isn’t a mother. I’d have found that during my research. There’s no indication that she ever had a child. That only leaves one possibility. “So you ended it?”

“I didn’t have to,” she says with a hollow laugh. “The results came back negative. I wasn’t pregnant. I was malnourished. My liver was barely functioning. I was shutting down. I hadn’t purposefully stopped eating. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. The doctors quizzed me and suggested I go back to therapy, especially a support group. It was there that I realized I’d been clinging to an idea of control that didn’t exist. Not eating was something I chose. Maybe because of the awful things he said about my body. Maybe because subconsciously, I desperately needed to control something. My group helped me see that I’d given him control over me instead. So when I say he broke me—that’s what I mean. I loved him, and he nearly killed me. At least, I thought I loved him.”

“And now?” I don’t know why it’s important. I shouldn’t want her to love me. I shouldn’t want to know her heart has never belonged to anyone else. But God, I want her to say no.

Her answering look is hard. A decision is being made, and her next words are carefully chosen. “Now…Let’s just say that distance has given me perspective. Although after today, I feel like I’ve been thrown back in time. I suppose no matter how far I’ve come, I can’t change what happened, and that means sometimes I have to face it.”

She can’t change it. She can only control it. She needs to control her body, and I…

“That’s why you ran when I brought up submission.”

She nods reluctantly as though she’d hoped I wouldn’t put these two things together.

“I can’t believe I…” I’ve spent my life in a perpetual state of self-loathing. For the first time ever, though, I hate myself completely. I hate that I need what she can’t give me. I hate that I’m weak. I’m no better than men like Daniel, demanding more than is my right, taking more than I give.

“No, X,” she says swiftly. “It wasn’t just that. It was the idea of any relationship.”

“My predilections certainly won’t help you.” And now she’s trying to soothe me when I’m supposed to be taking care of her.

She shakes her head. “I thought that at first, too. But you aren’t him, and I’m stronger now.”

“And your body?” Do the scars of what he said and did to her linger? “How do you feel about your body?”

She hesitates, which is an answer in and of itself. “Most days, I don’t think about it. I eat. I get dressed. I walk or run. Other days, I catch myself wishing I had a body like Pepper’s.”

That’s what she thinks? That I want someone like Pepper when I have her? I’m in motion before I even realize what I’m doing. Lifting her into my arms, I carry her to the loo. I need to show her what I see. I need her to see that she is breathtaking. I need her to understand she is everything any man could want—and everything I need.