“Miranda,” he whispered. It sent goosebumps down my arms. He was slowly rubbing my back in circles. I turned to look into his eyes. “Just because he touched you and kissed you doesn’t mean he took your firsts. He forced himself on you. He didn’t love you. He doesn’t count.” Erik’s left hand took my left hand and squeezed it.
“Do you believe that? Because I feel disgusting and destroyed.” I looked away again and sobbed. The pain was acute.
“Miranda! Don’t think like that.” He rocked me forward to touch his forehead to mine. “You have been injured, not destroyed.”
“You are sweet,” I whispered.
“Are you going to let me take you inside now?” he asked softly. He had both of my hands again.
“Yes.” I pulled my head into an upright position. “I am ready.” He insisted on having me wait while he ran around, opened my door and took my hand in one of his, and wrapped his other hand and arm around my back. I was sick to my stomach with worry. What would they do? Would Stan find out I was here?
“You know,” I whispered while we walked towards the entrance. “He threatened to kill me if I reported it and anyone who helped me.” I was having trouble getting one foot in front of another.
“I’m not scared of him,” Erik said softly. “Besides. I’m a black belt.” He squeezed my left hand and pulled me tighter against his side.
“As long as you are prepared. He told me these things before I got away from him. I haven’t looked at what he has texted me.” We had almost made it; I was staring down at my feet.
“You can show it to the police.” Erik replied, rubbing my back.
I glanced up at him, blushing. “I wasn’t going to report it.” I whispered. I looked away.
Erik was shocked. “Miranda, you need to report it! He’s a danger to society. He will do it again. He needs to be off the streets.”
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