12. Vulnerable

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"You've what?" Luke asks, cocking his head to the side. As soon as the words left my lips, it was almost as though I had imagined his previously positive mood. I would have thought he would be ecstatic to know I was trying to leave and get better. Maybe he would even be happy to get me out of his hair, but he seems almost disappointed with my announcement.

"I'm actually going to talk, and try to like get out of here."

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"My dad needs me. You're my counselor, right? So if I start talking, then you can clear me," I explain my plan to him while also confirming it to myself.

"Yeah, I guess that's how it works," he presses his lips into a thin line, his blue eyes darting away from mine to look at the clipboard on his lap, "I'll let you lead this session then."

I interlace my fingers and place my hands in my lap before starting off with how Elias and I met at the party.

"After that we kept in touch. We texted and met on the weekends when he would come home from school and visit. We were the perfect couple, and he was the perfect guy. No one would ever have suspected differently, including myself. We spent even more time together over the summer, and then I got accepted into the college he went to."

"Is the reason you applied to that particular college for Elias?" Luke interrupts staring down at his paper jotting down a few notes.

I turn to look at him, and see his eyebrows furrowed together as he scribbles at the page. They knit together perfectly, his pale eyes barely peeking out beneath his long eye lashes. "Y-yes," I stutter before he can turn to see my studying him.

"Okay. Continue."

"Erm, well we went to college together, and it was good... and... Luke?" My tongue seems to grow heavy and the words seem harder to get out of my mouth. Not because I was afraid to say them, but because I was afraid of what they would bring. They would bring my freedom, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for the real world again. Part of me isn't sure if it's ready to leave someone behind. The someone who comforted me in one of my darkest times and helped me bury my unborn child. The same someone sitting right beside me. I don't want to leave Luke.

"Yes, Cora?" He sighs turning his head ever so slightly so his eyes meet mine, and my stomach does a nervous flip.

"Never mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Anyways," I take a deep breath before continuing, "I ended up moving into an apartment with him after about three months of school. It was perfect really, better than I could have imagined. For the first three weeks or so at least."

"And then what?" He asks without looking up.

"And then, this happened nearly every day," I say slowly pulling off my sweat shirt. As soon as my arms are left bare without the familiar fabric I feel naked. Yes, I am wearing a t-shirt, but my bruises are out in the open; I am exposed.

Luke glances over at my arms and the seven bruises that are still visible. I give him credit for not showing his disgust, but I can see in his eyes that the deep yellows and purples of each bruise make him uneasy.

"He came home every night drunk. Some nights he could barely form a coherent sentence. He beat me basically every night, and eventually I dropped out of college and began online classes because I was embarrassed. I knew people would talk about me and look at me differently, so I quit," my voice lowers to a whisper with each word I say.

"Cora..." Luke starts, but doesn't finish. He adjusts his clipboard to the other side of him, and tenderly traces along one of the larger bruises on my right forearm. I don't flinch away. My muscles relax under his gentle touch, but I'm not finished yet.

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