“We’re meeting my friend and their girlfriend,” Carmen said carefully. Aaron had a jealous streak a mile long and she didn’t want to hit it. He nodded, contemplating.

“Interesting. Where?”

“You’ll see. Just get dressed!!”

Was Carmen excited?

Oh, yes.

Carmen shut the door rather exuberantly and smiled. She was so happy for Zeke. Granted, there was that small hint of jealousy that was inevitable for any friendship; but she was happy nevertheless.

“Aaaaroooooon, dearrrr!”

“Yeah,” he muttered from the bedroom. She figured he was changing—Aaron worked a day job. 

“We have a date tonightttt!”

“But it’s not Thursday,” he protested weakly. Carmen shrugged and smiled warmly at him.

“It is somewhere!”

“What’s her name?! What’s she look like?! Is she nice?! She better be nice!”

“Her name’s Elise, she looks a little bit like that Nora Goth girl, and she’s super sweet.”

“AWESOMEEE! You know what this means, right?!”

“No…”

“I have to meet her now.” Carmen smiled smugly, pulling him into a hug. “I knew you’d get a girlfriend someday. :3”

“So… Spill the beans, Zeke. You’ve been acting super duper happy lately. What gives?”

“Oh, nothing,” Zeke said happily, rolling his eyes. Carmen shoved him playfully.

“Oooo, I get it. Somebody’s got a giiirrrlllfrieeeeend!”

“You got it!”

“HA! I knew it!” “What’s her name?! What’s she look like?! Is she nice?! She better be nice!”

It took weeks upon weeks of doing basically nothing, but Carmen’s arm healed up just fine. She saw no reason to go to the hospital; she had broken her arm by falling off the monkey bars in sixth grade. No big deal there. As her arm healed, Carmen found many things to do: paint the nails of the broken arm, watch television, read some old classic books, paint small pictures, cut her hair—basic one armed tasks.

Carmen continued to have lunch with Zeke on a near-daily basis, and had dinner with Aaron every night. Though she knew very well what he was capable of, Carmen chose to look past that and ignore it, as she always had. Yes, there would be scars, but not if you didn’t think about it.

Zeke’s many protests didn’t stop her from being with Aaron, though. If anything, she just felt more compelled to be with him. He had moved from Nebraska to Bridgeport to be with her, after all.

“Aaron, I’m sorry—I just—I was so scared—”

“What, you couldn’t take a little rough play?”

“It’s not rough play when you break someone’s arm trying to rape them, Aaron.”

“Just shut up about yourself already.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”

“My nuts and face fucking hurt but other than that I’m fine.”

“Good—”

He cut her off with his mouth on hers, sticking his tongue down her throat. She frowned but played along, knowing all too well that if she refused he would force himself upon her even more.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he had stopped when she told him. She could swear he was tearing her up inside. In a physical way. This time, though, it hurt more than the others. Maybe that was because he hadn’t done this in such a long time, or maybe it was because her arm was broken and he kept bending it behind her, but either way, it wasn’t pleasant for her. She screamed at him to stop but he just kept going.

It was too bad the dress didn’t survive.

He was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly. Carmen closed the door as quietly as she could, but he didn’t react.

“Aaron?”

No response.

“Aaron, baby, I’m so, so sorry.”

Nothing.

“Aaron? Aaron, please, talk to me.”

“Sit.”

Carmen changed back into the dress she had on last night and left, heels in hand. Her arm hurt like hell, but she had driven in worse conditions before. The only thing she felt right then was fear. Utter, consuming, absolute fear. She was hoping he would be hungover and asleep, but the chances of that were little to none. He always waited for her after his drinking nights, and then have his way with her, no matter how painful it got for her. It was his way or not at all, and Carmen loved Aaron too much to ever let go of him. Maybe it wasn’t love, maybe it was fear that kept her with him, but she knew she would cry if he died. And she hoped he felt the same way.

The drive home seemed way too fast.