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Love shakes her head and raises her hands to my neck, linking her fingers at my nape, under my overgrown hair. My beard stubble brushes her soft skin when I lean forward and nuzzle under her chin, kissing her pulse. I crawl on top of her, roughly toeing off my boots and kicking them away as Igo.

Resting my head against her chest, I listen to the rough beat of her heart as Ally sleeps on in the other room. The entire apartment is quiet – a peaceful safe haven. That’s what this woman is to me. When I’m stressed the fuck out, whether it’s over the band, over Ally – just trying to raise her, keep her fed and healthy and give her shit that teenage girls need – this woman makes me forget it all and just escape for a little while. I don’t even need to fuck her to do that. Though, I love it. I love her pussy. Shoving myself in, holding deep as she looks at me with those dark, pain-filled eyes of hers. I want to be the same for her. I want to be her everything. I don’t care if it’s healthy or not. I want her to be obsessed. I want to haunt her. I want to empty her out and fill her up with nothing but me and if anyone fucking hurtsher…

I’ll killthem.

19

Love

The instructor is talking – his voice echoing around the long lecture hall. My mind wanders. I don't even have the energy to put forth the effort today. It's enough that I'm here. My ears are plugged with headphones, but Dr. Hall is such a pompous ass that all he is sure to see is himself and his greatness. His slideshow is filled to the brim with notes – tiny scriptures squeezed into every last available crevice of the currentslide.

Normally, I would be scribbling or typing away like the rest of my classmates – trying to get it all down, trying to cram as much knowledge into my brain as quickly and as inefficiently as possible. That's right. Inefficient. I don't want to be here rightnow.

Maybe it's all the time I've been spending with Tax – his inability to take people’s shit while I'm drowning under it and sewing my mouth closed in the process – but I decide that today is not the day for this. I close my laptop and shove it into my bag andstand.

Several eyes turn my way when I get up and make my way across the row and out into the stair aisle. I move up to the doors leading outside. If the professor calls out to me, I don't hear. The music in my ears drives the noise away. I reach into my pocket and turn it up as I make my way across campus, heading for my car when the song switches and is quickly interrupted by abuzzing.

Sighing, I slide my earbuds out and lift the phone to my ear, pressing the green button without looking at the name. Only two people ever call my phone now. Trish – as always – and Tax. When I answer, Trish's voice comes across thereceiver.

"I'm done," she snaps in myear.

I blink, taking away the phone and staring at the screen. No, the screen definitely says Trish. I put it back to my ear. "What are you talkingabout?"

"Anne – I can't handle her anymore," Trish says. Her voice is practically vibrating with anger. "I – Love, I'm so sorry. But she came over after the lunch we had, and she's been staying with me and Lawrence in the guest bedroom, and I just kicked herout."

"What?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Whathappened?"

"She was driving me fucking crazy." She huffs over the phone. "She just hangs over me, Love. She asks me all these questions – where are you living? How often do I see you? What do we talk about? If you're dating anyone? She wants to know when Lawrence and I are going to get married? If we’re planning on having kids. She was driving him crazy too. He's pissed at me." Her voice wavers over hisname.

"Okay," I say, "do you want me to come over?” This conversation seems surreal. “Did you really kick herout?”

She sighs. "No, not exactly. I mean, she's gone. She's not staying with us anymore, but I think that's more because of Lawrence than me. If he asks, she'll do anything. If I ask, then I'm ungrateful...Love?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'mungrateful?"

I sigh heavily. "No, Trish, I don't think you'reungrateful."

"I'm sorry for calling," she says. "If you're busy or if you need togo—"

"I'm not," I interrupt, "busy that is. But I would like to see you. Do you want to..." I pause, looking around. Trish is a student here too and she doesn't live far. "Do you want to meet at the Java Shop?" I'm not a big fan of coffee, but I find myself wanting to talk to her. I don't have any real friends – especially not girlfriends. I'm happy to listen to her talk about Anne or Lawrence – though both of those subjects are uncomfortable for me, I know she needs an outlet too. But I really want to tell her aboutTax.

"On campus? Yeah, sure. I can be there in an hour," sheanswers.

I blanch, but I can head to the library and pick up a few things while I wait for her. "Okay," I say, "I'll meet you there in anhour."

We hang up and I make a right turn, heading towards the big, hulking behemoth of a library building on the far west side of campus. The doors open as I slide my student ID. I head for the second floor and move for the publishing section, pulling books as I go. I stop by the checkout desk and as the student worker scans the barcodes of the books, I look down. A small, soft yellow flier catches myattention.

"What's this?" I ask, fingering the edge of theflier.

The girl shrugs. "What does it look like? It's a flier." She hands me my books back and then a slip of paper. "Books are due back by the date on the receipt. Any charges incurred will go automatically to your student account. Have a niceday."

As she turns away, I slip the yellow flier into my pocket and head out. Once I'm outside, on the sidewalk, I pull it back out and read over thewords.

What are thesigns?

DomesticViolence