Chapter Text
I have made a lot of mistakes in my life and done things I’m not proud of, and I’ve probably made decisions that would cause most people to pull their hair out in frustration but those mistakes and those decisions have made me who I am and those decisions have led me to him. You can judge, you can think your dark, contemptuous thoughts and call me weak and call me a stupid bitch and say it’s sick and… look. I really don’t care. I need to get this out, to make sense of it in my own head, because if I’m honest, those thoughts I’m accusing you of… I have those same thoughts myself. I cannot possibly reconcile the thoughts in my head with the feelings in my heart, so this is going to be my poor attempt to do so. So in the end, think what you will and know, I’ll probably share many of your own thoughts, but it won’t matter, because no matter what I think or feel, it all comes back to him and I don’t care how much I might hate myself. As long as I’m with him. I’m happy.
I’ll start here. I’m highly intelligent, I’m hardworking, I’m motivated. I have a great image of the person I am and the person I can be. I don’t seem to have the ability to ever fully achieve these dreams. Throughout my entire life, I’ve had a problem with social interactions. That doesn’t mean that I’m inept, but I’m awkward and I overthink. I get so focused on what I might say and how that might be interpreted that I stop thinking about what the situation actually calls for. Then I end up sitting there with long silences, looking uncomfortable and making everyone else uncomfortable around me. Or, I come out with short, abrupt, safe responses that once again, are awkward, leaving everyone around me uncomfortable. And let me be clear, this has nothing to do with some sort of childhood trauma. There’s no big story as to why I’m so fucking awkward. I just am.
I think the only thing that has kept me from being an absolute social pariah are my looks. Now, I’m not saying I’m gorgeous or a model or anything like that. I’m just a bit overweight. Nothing drastic, but I work fourteen hours days nearly seven days a week. I think the only reason I’m not heavier is because the sheer magnitude of stress I suffer on a daily basis prevents me from eating as much as I could otherwise. But I’ve got nice skin, I have straight white teeth, I’m of average height, and I have hair the color of burnt caramel. I’ve been told it is very pretty. So, I might not be the woman men elbow eachother out of the way to get to at the the bar, but I’m pleasant enough to look at that, despite my awkwardness, people will pop in their heads to say good morning or good night, and I always get invitations to the group outings. It’s out of sympathy, not because anyone actually cares or wants me there. I just never go. Unless of course, Nicholas makes it mandatory. Team building. Morale boosting. That’s what he calls it. I call it absolutely fucking bullshit.
So, in a nutshell, that’s who I am. I think it’s important you know this before we begin. You might not understand, but please try to understand, I don’t make decisions like other people do and never did.
That’s all I really want to say about that. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out yourself.
I work for a “big four” accounting company. I don’t feel the need to say the name here. I’m a junior associate working in the mergers and acquisition out of the Boston office. I’m on the state and local tax team. In the business, it’s just called SALT. When one business wants to buy another, part of the due diligence that they have done is to find out what the target company’s tax exposure is. The Fed teams job is easy. Federal tax doesn’t change based on a state. My team has fifty states to go through and more often than not, a company will have just enough reach into a state that it’s not entirely clear if that state has the right to impose their tax law on the goods and services sold within their borders. Some deals are easy, most are not. In many cases, a company will have operated in a state, but never filed taxes in that state. If that company were selected for a state audit, in some cases, that company could have back taxes owed from about $100,000 to 5 million. That was my biggest deal. Some company based in New Hampshire that expanded far beyond the business owners' grandest imaginings. Funny little thing about New Hampshire, they don’t have a sales tax. This company operated in every surrounding New England state and most of the North East and never filed taxes. Needless to say, the buyer did not acquire the target after that report came out.
I’ve worked here for just about a year and I’m set for a promotion at my next review. My company has a shockingly complex hierarchical system. My team has four junior associates and two seniors. The juniors are divided up on deals and report to their seniors. That senior will review the word done by the senior, and once all was in place, would run it up the line to the Manager. Once the manager reviewed the final reports from the senior, that was then run up further to the partner. The partner made the final review and stamped his name on it and it was sent out.
My senior associate is Chris Johnston and he’s a lovely guy and a great supervisor. He’s attentive, understanding, and responsive. Even when there is something you should have known, he corrects you kindly, makes a joke, and then moves on without making you feel like you’ve almost single-handedly destroyed the multi-billion dollar company we worked for her.
Unlike the other senior, Caleb Trent. Whenever I was placed on one of his deals, I felt something inside of me die. For those weeks, I hated coming into work. I’d get to work at 5:00am and leave the office at 10:00pm and it still wasn’t enough. My work was destroyed with every pass. Everytime I received the soft ding of my email from inside my little cubical, my insides tightened and turned and I wanted to cry.
Chris would make the necessary changes and send the updated copy back to you with a note about what went wrong. If you make the same mistake again, he’ll address it with you. Caleb Trent is cold and cruel. He sends it back to you untouched.
Needs work. - C.H. Trent, Esq.
It was a terrible feeling, because you had no idea what about it needed work. So you’d comb through it for hours, fixing whatever you think might need work, and you’d send it back. Then you’d wait in agony, try to work your other deals, and wait for that little ding.
Devil’s in the details. You should know this. -C.H. Trent, Esq.
And then he’d point out to you what you should have seen the first time, but he won’t tell you how to fix it. So then you spend another couple hours trying to fix it, but you don’t know how, because if you knew, you’d have done it right the first time. Then you’d send it back. Once again, waiting for that little ding. At this point, you prayed for that ding.
It was when you saw him walking down the aisles of gray cubes that you knew you were in for it. His dark head would bob up and over, up and over as he walked, all six foot four of him, broad shouldered, dressed impeccably. He’d round the corner and stand there a moment, dark eyes glowering, emphasized by the little malicious smile dancing across his cruel mouth.
“Orla?” he’d ask. He was the only one to call me Orla. I hated my name. Orla Ellen Wright. God, it was old and pretentious. I signed my emails O. Ellen Wright, Esq., and introduced myself as Ellie. Everyone respected that, except for Caleb. “A moment?”
Every time. “Orla? A moment?”
“Yes, Caleb?” was always my response. Cold. Wooden. He’d hold up a print out of my internal summary. He’d walk over and slap it down on my desk. When it got to the point that Chris came to your cube, he would either pull up an extra chair or kneel down by your desk to go through it with you. Caleb loomed. He stood, far too close, his expensive aftershave wafting up into your nostrils and making you feel like you were the smallest creature on planet Earth. I can’t say how it made others feel, but when he left, after slowly, methodically, and masterfully walking me through my work and showing me how absolutely substandard it was, I would blink back tears and struggle to pull myself back together the rest of the day. Some days, he’d have me do it to match the criticisms he had given me. Other days, he’d leave without giving me a deadline. I’d ask knowingly, “when do you need the updated report by?”
“Don’t bother,” he’d respond cruelly and be on his way. Perhaps the worst part of this dressing down, was that he made sure to do it loudly. He had a loud voice as it was. Powerful, commanding. But his voice always seemed a bit louder when he was ripping a person to shreds. The only thing that got me through these moments is knowing, I’d heard him do it to others. It was simply my turn.
He had left my office just over an hour before I received the congratulatory email that our manager, Nicholas Oakes, was being made partner, and who was the senior associate being made manager? Not the kind hearted, friendly Chris Johnston.
No, the words that jumped out from this email had my feeling physically ill.
Caleb Henry Trent, Esquire.
My insides turned to liquid and I felt tears come to my eyes. After the half hour lecture I received earlier in the day, and now this news, my first thought was well, I’ll fucking quit. I stood from my desk, reaching out to retrieve my cell phone from my desk drawer, and I walked steadily to the bathroom.
I got into the bathroom stall before the tears burst forth and I pressed my hands to my face to try and smother my sobs. No one else was inside and honestly, I’d come into the bathroom to the sounds of sobs many times in my two years here. It was the culture. You worked until you couldn’t stand it anymore, and you were either turned into a diamond under that pressure, you went home one night and ate a bullet, or you quite abruptly. People would come in and find your desk empty and management would never even mention our departure until someone asked at a team meeting.
By the time I had finished, my makeup was ruined. I don’t wear a lot, what I wear is minimal, but that doesn’t mean that when I went to the mirror and saw my naked eyes that I was happy about it. But I splashed cool water on my face, straightened out my blouse, and left the bathroom. I returned to my desk to an email invite to a celebratory drink at the bar across the street from our building. The whole team was on it. Chris sent out the invite. Of course he did. Good, kind hearted Chris, who always smelled so good, and had a smile that would make you feel so warm and valued. Of course he would show such grace in defeat. Caleb and Chris had gone to Northeastern together. THey graduated together and got hired together. Both were up to this promotion. But it went to Caleb.
I watched the acceptances come piling in as the day progressed until it was 5:15pm and I was the only one on the team that hadn’t responded. There was only a single no, and that was from Molly, who had a 8 week old baby at home. Her husband had quite work when the baby was born and Molly took off just enough time to recover from birth itself. She’d been back in work within two weeks but even Caleb didn’t bat an eye when she was in at 8:00am and out by 5:00pm every day. I had no such excuse. I heard everyone getting up and readying to head out. I hovered my cursor over the decline button. I almost clicked it when I heard a voice behind me.
“Coming Ellie?”
I turned to see Chris smiling at the entrance of my cube. I sighed and glanced over toward the elevators where there was a growing group of smiling people. Caleb stood among them, smiling happily, looking almost like a normal human being. Scott walked over and gave him a slap on the shoulder.
“Do I have a choice?” I asked. Chris laughed. He was a handsome man. He was a year younger than Caleb, but he had not taken any time off between undergrad and law school. He had fair skin and bright grey eyes. He was tall as well. Chris would do well here. In another year or two, he’d get the promotion he deserved as well.
“Of course you do,” Chris said. “Caleb won’t mind.”
“It’s a bad look,” I said reluctantly. If he had said no, not at all, no one will think anything of me not going, I would have awkwardly made my excuses in the elevator, gave Caleb a stuttering congratulations, and then be on my way. But Chris gave a little grimace, accompanied by a shrug, and nodded.
“Kinda,” he replied. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I followed Chris down the hall toward the growing group at the elevators. Some of the Fed team were coming. I was happy to see Anna and Chloe there. It was still very much a boys club where I work. I don’t think that I have ever been mistreated because I’m a woman, but it can make things a bit uncomfortable when you’re sitting there, surrounded by men speaking about things you couldn’t ever hope to relate to or understand. Or maybe that was just me, but I hated being the only woman in the room.
Chloe flashed me a warm grin. She was stunning, intelligent as they came, and tough. In truth, Chloe was exactly who I wished I could be, but for whatever reason, I’d never be able to get out of my own goddamn head. But on top of it all, Chloe was one of the kindest people I know. She’d always pop her head in when events were being planned to make sure I received an invite and that I was in the loop.
“Are you coming, Ellie?” she asked happily. I noted the turn of Caleb’s head in my direction. He was speaking to a small group, including two from SALT and three from the Fed team. One of those women being Amelia Harper, who I absolutely detested. While Chloe had it all, but would never do a thing to hurt another if she could avoid it, Amelia took a perverse joy in bringing people down, other women in particular. Caleb and her were by no means friends, but they were friendly, and it was clear to everyone who had eyes that she would let him take her home in an instant.
“I am,” I answered. Chloe smiled, brilliant white teeth popping out from behind full red lips, which themselves popped out beautifully from her smooth, espresso colored skin. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and jostled me. One of her braids draped over my shoulder and I could not help but smile as she did so. Chloe would be promoted within the year. That was certain. Maybe I could talk to her about being transferred from SALT to Fed?
“That everyone then?” Calebn asked, eyes moving over the group. His eyes briefly met mine, and I lowered my eyes back to my shoes. I noticed a scuff on the toe of my cream colored shoe. I noted how dingy they looked in comparison to Chloe’s black pumps. My cheeks burned. We split into two elevators. I thanked the lord I ended up in the elevator with Chloe, Anna, and Chris. The rest, two guys named Mark and Peter, who were junior associates of Caleb, nestled in the corner. I heard Mark mutter to Peter, “ say goodbye to our fucking lives. Never going to be able to see my family again.”
Peter replied, “ I barely see my family as it is. See you guys more than my own kid. Might just fucking quit.”
Mark answered, “ hundred thousand reasons you won’t.”
I don’t think they thought anyone could hear them. Everyone else was chatting happily. No one would dare say those words to anyone who they didn’t trust implicitly. I certainly wouldn’t say anything, but I could end their careers with a word to Caleb. My stomach churned but I felt a bit better. I don’t think I was alone at all with my distress over this new development. And what Mark said at last was true. Hundred thousand reasons says you won’t. We got paid well, but we sold our souls for it.
The elevator doors opened. The other elevator had beaten us down, but they were waiting outside for us. I followed the group from a short distance behind, looking down the street and gazing after my T-stop longingly. I just wanted to go home and cry, sleep, and wake up tomorrow and hope this was all just a terrible nightmare.
We got into the bar and we all had to crush in on eachother. It was a typical Boston bar. Small, old, Irish. The foyer was narrow and I somehow found myself pressed very close to Caleb. I could smell his aftershave and it made me feel ill. My heart rate increased and I felt nauseous. I cannot tell you how much I hated him, how his closeness made me feel. Even the smell of him, the heat of him, I was struck with the same feeling I had when he leaned over me to jab at my report and walk me through it with unnecessary cruelty, just loud enough for everyone else around to hear in painful detail, my own failings.
“So, you’re going to celebrate this weekend?” Amelia asked him. I could see her chewing on her lip, coated with pretty pink lip gloss that I stopped wearing when I got out of the seventh grade.
“No, I’ll work. I have a botched internal summary I have to fix.”
I closed my eyes and tried to take a calming breath. That comment was made for my benefit. There was no doubt about that. I rolled my lips in together. If I was braver, I would turn around and say something, but I’m not brave, and I can’t make myself talk.
“Ellie, you coming?”
I opened my eyes. It was Chloe and Chris still standing in the foyer. Everyone else had shuffled past me. I blushed and nodded.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said.
“You’re looking a bit pale,” Chloe said to me. She touched my forehead. “You alright?”
“Lot of long nights,” I said. Botching internal summaries, I thought darkly. Caleb was still right there. Just a few feet ahead. I wish I had the courage to say it. I wish I had made that little needling comment that let him know I’d heard it and I didn’t give a shit about it.
“Amen to that,” Chloe said. I ended up sitting between Chloe and Mark. Mark got a pint of beer and drank it down so fast I wasn’t sure he even tasted it. Almost immediately, he got up to order a new one at the bar so he didn’t have to wait for the waitress. He hit my shoulder with the back of his hand a bit firmly and I looked over.
“You want one, Ellie?” he asked. “I’m buying.”
“No, thanks,” I said, oddly touched he thought to ask me and not anyone else. It occurs to me sometimes that people might not think I’m as awkward as I think I am, that I’m actually a likable person and people do genuinely enjoy being around me. Then that fleeting moment of clarity and confidence passes. He nodded glumly and headed toward the bar. The conversation was light and scattered. Chloe and Chris were talking about a particularly difficult client, but got into a bit of a heated debate when Chris blamed the Fed team for accepting budgets that SALT could not possibly meet.
“In what world can my team do twenty five states with a fifty K budget?” Chris asked over his beer.
“You’ve had ten deals with the same budget and always get it done,” Chloe said dismissively.
“And kill ourselves to do it!” Chris cried in mock agony.
“You’re not even going to go out a bit this weekend?” Amelia was asking Caleb. He was nursing a whiskey, but I’m not sure he’d taken more than three sips.
“No plans to,” he answered dryly. It was with some pleasure that I realized he was, at least at the moment, entirely uninterested in Amelia. There was no flirtatious twinkle in his eyes or familiar grin. Just a grim face and dark eyes. He was staring off straight ahead, over the head of David from Compliance.
“Well, I think I’m going to be going out with Stephanie from Compliance and a few of our friends if you change your mind. I haven’t been dancing in a long time,” I heard her say as I motioned to the waitress and tapped the side of my glass. The motion drew Caleb’s eyes, but he only glanced at the glass and then looked away again. He never met my gaze.
“I’ll text you if I change my mind,” he answered. He raised his voice. “Wait till I’m partner, Chloe, no more of these ridiculous budgets!”
Chloe gave a sarcastic look. “Wait till I’m partner, Trent, and I’ll accept even smaller ones.”
“Oh God, Trent and Robinson both partners. We’re fucking doomed,” David said.
“Like it affects you at all,” Trent said with a little sneer, though he appeared in good spirits and everyone took it as such. He twirled his whiskey glass absentmindedly in front of him. “Everyone else at this table works to the fucking bone when you get in at 9:00am every day and leave by 5:00.”
“Damn right I do,” David laughed. “I’m never leaving compliance.”
My second beer was placed down in front of me and I took a big sip. Mark returned by the time I had finished about half of the second beer. He placed a new one down beside me. I had hoped to graciously bow out after the second, but I smiled and thanked him all the same.
“Good work on that Blackburn calc, by the way,” Anna said to Chris. I hadn’t eaten any of the food that had been ordered and I was feeling a bit light headed. I sipped cautiously at the third drink. “That was a quick turnaround.”
“Oh, that was Ellie,” Chris said. “She’s my calc queen. Anyone needs a calc done, give it to her.”
I smiled gratefully for the recognition and Chris winked at me. I hated doing the summaries, but my goodness, give me a calc and I couldn’t be happier.
“Blackburn was complicated,” Caleb mused. That was the closest I think he would ever come to giving me any sort of recognition. I looked at Chris. If only he had been made manager. Even if I was then moved under Caleb as his junior, I could have managed it.
“I’m going to run out for a smoke,” Amelia said standing. Someone other than her was getting praise. It was time to change the subject.
“Oh, I could use one too,” Anna said. “Chlo?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Damon hates the smell. But what the hell. It’s only once in a blue moon. Ellie, want a smoke?”
I looked up in surprise. I considered. I didn’t smoke, I never had, but I was anxious to belong. I wondered if this might push me closer into their circle. I really liked Anna, I really liked Chloe. I was about to say yes, but the hesitation was long enough that I heard Amelia invite Caleb and his rather harsh response of, “I don’t smoke. It’s a disgusting habit.”
I glanced over at him very briefly and then found my head shaking when I looked back at Chloe. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”
Chloe did not seem at all disturbed by the response and flashed a grin, promised to be back, and filed out with the other few smokers who were joining. I glanced at Caleb, wondering if there might be found some moment of commonality between us, some sort of recognition, and our gazes did meet, but there was not a single ounce of warmth or familiarity in his gaze. He looked back down at his whiskey and turned to listen to something Chris was saying.
There was not a single sign that Chris was bitter or angry about being passed over for the promotion. I wish I could be like Chris. He was confident, sure of himself, competent, and when people came after him, it rolled right off his back like water on a duck’s back. I envied him immensely.
I excused myself to run to the bathroom. I’m not sure if anyone heard me. My voice was so soft. I didn’t like speaking too loudly. It brought too much attention to me. I came back to find the others back from their smoke break. Everyone was ordering a new round and I caught the waitress in time to tell her I wouldn’t need another one and to close me out.
“So soon?” Chris asked and I felt my cheeks heat slightly. He looked disappointed and I sucked in a short breath. I didn’t like disappointing people. I really, really hated it. Especially people I wanted to like me so badly. Chloe pouted. Was she just being nice or did she actually want me to stay? I wondered if, once I left, there would be some dark sniggering, and everyone would say how glad they were I finally left. Had I already worn out my welcome? I was just sitting here silently, contributing nothing. I could hardly be a bother, but I doubt anyone was all that invested in my presence anyway.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m tired and I have work to do this weekend.”
Everyone said goodbye, stating their regret that I leave. I drained the last quarter of the beer that Mark had brought me. I didn't want him to think I was ungrateful for the gesture. I glanced one last time at Caleb. I said softly, “Congratulations,” but my voice was hoarse, so I cleared my throat and said more clearly, Congratulations, Caleb.”
“Thanks,” he answered. He gave me a tight smile. I gave a nod and turned to leave. “Have a good night, Orla.”
My face turned taut and my skin burned. I paused and hated myself for the moment of hesitation, the slight flinch. I did not look back. I pushed on. The only possible reason a person called you something you’ve said repeatedly you do not like to be called is to get under that person’s skin. I had no idea why he disliked me so much. What kind of twisted joy did he get out of calling me Orla?
I got to the front of the restaurant and swayed slightly. I took a deep breath and blinked down the road. It was dark now, rain was coming pouring down onto the busy streets and I saw lights of red and white blurring in my vision. I blinked. This job had turned me into a lightweight. Three beers, empty stomach or no, would never had gotten to me like this in my law school days.
“Ellie?” it was Chris coming out of the restaurant. “You alright?”
“What?” I asked him. He took my elbow and gently pulled me under the awning.
“You’ve been standing out here for like… ten minutes. Everything OK?”
“Ten minutes?” I asked. I frowned and rubbed my eyes. “No, I uh… I need to get to Park Street.”
“Yeah… here,” his hands were warm as he took my phone out of my hand. “I’ll get you an uber.”
“No, I take the T all the time -”
I took a step closer to him. Unlike Caleb, Chris always smelled so good. I loved the smell of his cologne.
“Here, I’m going to call an uber, wait here. I’ll close out and make sure you get home.”
“I’m fine,” I laughed. “But um…” I swayed a bit. “I could use the uber actually.”
“Yeah, what’s your address?”
I told him. It was a small studio that I paid about 1500 bucks a month for. Once it was called, he handed me my phone.
“Alright. On its way. Hey, look, you’re swaying a bit. I’m gonna go close out. Just stay here.”
“Chris, I’m fine.”
Was I slurring? I couldn’t tell.
“Stay here, Ellie,” he said curtly. “I’ll be right back.”
He went back into the restaurant. I watched the little black car from down the grey roads. I checked the license plate, make and model. I saw it pull up. I glanced over my shoulder. I didn’t think I could stand the shame if Chris had to walk me home after three beers. It was just the stress of the day catching up to me. Once i got home, I’d be able to crawl into bed and pass out and not worry about dealing with the embarrassment of it all tomorrow. I jumped into the backseat and closed the door. The car pulled away and I fumbled with my phone.
I just got into the uber. Thanks for your help! I’m all set though. Promise! See you Monday.
He texted back immediately. You sure?
Positive. I was just a bit dizzy. All cleared up.
I saw dots and then nothing. Dots. Nothing. Then, the response. Ok… try and enjoy your weekend.
After that, I really don’t remember much.
-
I woke up to sunlight streaming in through the windows and I grimaced. My head was pounding violently. The light hurt my eyes. I opened my mouth. It was dry. Bone dry. And there was a foul taste in my mouth. My muscles ached and I groaned as I rolled over in bed and tried to shield my eyes from the sun.
My stomach turned violently and I felt like I was going to be sick. I reached a phone out and groped for the side table. I couldn’t find my phone and I lifted my head. I glanced around and found my phone on the other side of the side table. I moaned and dropped my head to the pillow.
What the hell had happened last night? I couldn’t remember a damn thing. I’d only had three beers though. Empty stomach or not… I hadn’t had a hangover like that in years. I felt another vicious wave of nausea as the pounding in my head pulsed violently. It slowly faded to the back into a constant but dull thud.
The only thing that pushed me out of bed was my intense thirst. It was a deep, painful need. I pushed myself up and glanced into the kitchen. I breathed heavily as I stared at the sink. I licked my dry, chapped bottom lip. Slowly, a strange realization crept into my brain and I looked downward.
I was naked. I sat and stared a long while. Why was I naked? I didn’t sleep in the nude and on nights I did come home drunk, I either changed or I fell asleep in my clothes. I’d never slept naked.
But those thoughts came and went rapidly. The soreness between my legs sent another wave of nausea coursing through me. I’d had sex…. Or… I touched the dark smudges on my skin. What did that say…
I looked up. I didn’t see a single sign anyone else was here. My bathroom door was open. The light was off, but I could see it was empty. I was alone. I pushed myself up from the bed and crept toward the bathroom. I stepped into the bathroom and flicked the light on.
I looked terrible. I had dark circles under my eyes. My skin was pale. My hair was an absolute mess. But I didn’t even notice it. My eyes found the marker on my chest, written across my skin in large, uppercase letters.
I felt nauseous and I swayed. I had to reach out to grab the wall to keep myself from falling. I had trouble processing it. I needed water, I needed to eat, but I needed to sleep, I needed to throw up, and I needed to do it all at once. My headache surged beneath my eyes. It pulsed. Boom boom boom.
My fingers came up and gently trailed along the black marker marring my skin. My eyes lowered. It wasn’t the large, black, boldly displayed letters that spelled out the word WHORE across my chest that had me truly crippled with fear in that moment, but the letters printed beneath them, below my belly, across my lower abdomen… large, menacing... a word with more far reaching implications than the simple derogatory insult someone who would drug and rape a woman might throw at them. No, this was far more unsettling, far more frightening. Drawn across my lower bellow, just above the neatly groomed curls nestled between my legs, written in black maker, in capital letters, was the word MINE.