“I’m sorry, you have the wrong person,” I answer, shrugging and staggering over to the sink he stood in front of a second ago.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice still quiet. “You look like someone I used to know.”
Someone you used to rape.
I nod as he walks away, and when he’s gone, I take ten steadying breaths. Closing my eyes, I sag against the opposite wall, trying to calm myself.
I will not let him control me.
Any of them.
A crown fit for a queen.
Benedict’s words come to me, infusing me with some sort of power—some sort of renewed self-possession. A presence of mind that used to be second nature. But, unless you count the men at the bar a couple of weeks ago, it’s been years since I humiliated them. Years since I used my power to get back at all of them, one man at a time. I haven’t needed to. Until today.
I think of all of the times I drank the drinks they bought me. The fake smiles. The removing of hands on my thighs. The heated whispers. All a part of the grand plan. All a way into their minds. The more I lured them in, the easier it became to reject them. And it wasn’t to be cruel. Some of them were probably perfectly respectable gentleman.
No, it was for the power. The ability to say no. The high I felt whenever they respected my boundaries, even when they didn’t want to.
Because I could.
Because I had to.
I walk over to our table, spotting the man a few tables away. He’s watching me curiously. He doesn’t have any power over me anymore, and yet, my skin is crawling with fear, with nerves, with anxiety.
“We need to go,” I tell Benedict, my voice resolute despite my trembling fingers.
He stands and gathers our things without saying anything. His eyes are on me as I watch the man a few tables away, my hands shaking as I pull my purse over my shoulder.
“Evelyn,” he growls, his jaw clenched.
“Just go. I’ll meet you outside,” I plead.
He breathes through his nostrils as they flare with anger, and he shoots the man a death stare before walking out.
Leaving me to do the thing I’m best at. It’s like he has the ability to hand me all the confidence in the world with a simple gesture, and for the first time, I know, deep down, that hetrulyunderstands what I need. That he recognizes the paradox of my mind, the anger, the hurt, the revenge. He gets it.
Smiling, I take a deep breath and march over to the man’s table. He’s sitting with a blonde woman. He’s looking at the menu, so he doesn’t see me walk up.
“Hi,” I say quickly, my voice sharp and clear. I take a deep breath and stand up straighter. “This man used to rape me,” I say, and their faces go from surprise to horror. His wide eyes, his complete surrender to the moment as he grips the edge of the table and looks around, with nowhere to go, gives me the courage to keep talking.
You didn’t need someone to save you, because you saved yourself. And you’re still out for blood.
“I was kidnapped and sold to men for money that I never saw. This man—he was a regular. I used to beg him to stop, and he wouldn’t.” I look at his Rolex. “Money can buy you a lot of things, but it can’t buy you decency and integrity.” I bare my teeth at him before turning to the woman, who is looking between us with a look of disgust and horror. “This is the man you are having lunch with. A man who does not respect women. Run. And don’t ever look back.”
I turn and stomp away, vowing not to look back until I get outside.
Benedict opens the door for me, taking me by the elbow and leading us quickly down the street.
“Was that…” he trails off.
“Yep. He was one of them.”
We’re about to turn a corner when I hear someone yelling behind us. I turn, surprised to find the woman running after me, although I’m not sure what to read in her pained expression.
“Oh my god. I’m… so sorry,” she breathes. “I want to thank you, but I’m still feeling so sickened by what you said. What was done to you.” She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “I can’t help but think you just saved my life.”
And with that, she walks away, relief in her step—because she knows she dodged a bullet.
