Chapter 2

The living room was deathly silent.

The door wasn't fully closed. The two buddies who'd brought Lucas home stood awkwardly behind him, trying to smooth things over with embarrassed expressions.

"Lucas is really delirious from the fever today. He didn't mean to snap at you."

"Besides, you torture him with alcohol every day---who could stand that? Just let it go."

"Yeah, that drunken incident... he cut it off completely a long time ago."

At the mention of that incident, violent nausea surged in my stomach.

When I was sixteen, I was dragged into a pitch-black alley by my stepbrother and some of his lowlife friends.

When my clothes were being torn, it was eighteen-year-old Lucas who drove them away with reddened eyes, smashing them with bricks.

He took off his school uniform jacket and wrapped it tightly around my trembling body.

He cried even louder than I did while holding me. He said, "Sophia, don't be afraid. If anyone dares touch you, I'll kill them."

Because of that nightmare, after marriage I was extremely resistant to intimacy. Being touched made my whole body tremble.

Back then, Lucas would always hold me over and over, gently kissing my forehead.

"Don't be afraid, Sophia. It's okay. No matter how long it takes, I'm willing to wait for you."

I always thought he was my salvation, pulling me out of hell.

Until six months ago when his stomach problems flared up, and I went to the rescue station late at night to bring him medicine.

I saw with my own eyes as he pressed the new psychological counselor onto the sofa, kissing her frantically.

He was buried in the woman's neck, panting heavily, his movements showing a fervor and loss of control he'd never shown with me.

The woman's black lace lingerie was brazenly hanging on his rescue uniform---the one that symbolized honor.

When I caught them in the act, he knelt down with reddened eyes, swearing he was just drunk and mistook her for someone else.

Twelve whole years.

I always thought he was my salvation, pulling me out of hell.

I never expected that the person who pulled me from the abyss had pushed me into another one.

As my thoughts returned to the present, Lucas seemed to sober up a bit too. He stepped forward, trying to grab my hand.

"Sophia, I'm sorry. I was so angry I spoke nonsense. I really do have a fever, my head hurts so much..."

He approached softly, his face full of remorse.

I stepped back, avoiding his outstretched hand.

"Go rest."

Lucas's hand froze in mid-air.

His brow furrowed tightly. He seemed anxious and wanted to come closer.

"Sophia, let me explain..."

"I'm tired."

I cut him off, turned and walked into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind me.

Through the door, I heard his two buddies help him into the master bedroom, quietly reassuring him that since there was no fight, it was all settled.

Settled?

I leaned against the door and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.

It wasn't settled. It was just that this book torn to shreds---I didn't want to turn its pages anymore.