The doctor, seeing my despair, offered a few comforting words out of kindness.
Hearing the doctor's voice, Brandon's tone turned stern over the phone. "Where are you? Why is there a man's voice?"
"Serena, how disgusting can you be? You can’t go anywhere without flirting with men. Can't live without them, can you? No wonder you almost got raped as a child!"
Karina's voice chimed in. "Brandon, don’t be so harsh. Maybe Serena is doing this on purpose to make you jealous."
"Women who’ve been through a lot know all kinds of tricks. Unlike me—so simple and pure. Don't mind her. My feet are sore, can you massage them for me?"
As her coquettish voice rang out, Brandon hung up abruptly after saying, "Suit yourself."
I stood there in shock, the phone slipping from my hand without me realizing it. His words echoed in my mind. "No wonder you almost got raped as a child!"
I was brought back to that dreadful memory from years ago—my mother's new boyfriend had assaulted and filmed me. In my despair, I had even considered ending my life.
At the time, Brandon, my deskmate, found out about it. He stormed into my house, beat up the man, and retrieved the video.
He held me tightly and repeatedly said, "Serena, don’t be afraid. This wasn’t your fault."
"I promise you, as long as I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you."
Looking back now, I realize the person who hurt me the most during our seven-year relationship had always been him.
Every time we had a conflict, he would bring up that incident in front of others, using it to humiliate me repeatedly.
He tore open my bleeding wounds, exposing them to everyone, until I broke down in tears, begging and apologizing at his feet.
Only then would he, standing high above me, condescend to "forgive" me.
To the people around us, Brandon appeared deeply devoted and loving. But they didn’t see how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep in silence.
And that humiliating video—he never deleted it.
Who knows how many people he showed it to before it ended up in Karina’s hands, becoming the dagger that severed our seven-year relationship.
After my wound was stitched up, I called my mother. "Mom, I’ve decided. I want to get married—to Wesley Moore."
My mother was silent for a moment before her voice turned excited. Because of what happened years ago, she had always felt guilty and tried every way to make it up to me.