The word comes out fast, and he stops mid-step.
I take a step closer, my hands still fists at my sides.
"Why?"
He doesn't answer.
"Why didn't you come sooner?"
My voice rises, sharp and raw, and I take another step toward him.
"Why did you let them take me? Why did you let me stay in that place while he..."
My voice breaks, and I choke on the words.
"While he put his hands on me? While he drugged me and treated me like I was nothing?"
Adrian's jaw tightens, but he doesn't speak.
He just stands there, his eyes on me, his body rigid.
"Eighteen months, Adrian. Eighteen fucking months!"
I'm screaming now and shaking with rage, but I don't care.
"Where were you, huh? Where the fuck were you?!"
He opens his mouth, but no words come out.
And that's when the rage takes over completely.
I lunge at him.
My fists slam into his chest, hard and fast. The impact sends a jolt up my arm.
He doesn't move, doesn't even flinch.
I hit him again, harder this time, the sound of my fists against his solid muscles echoing through the room.
"Why didn't you save me?!"
I scream the words, my vision blurring with tears, my hands aching with every blow.
"Why didn't you come for me?!"
I keep hitting him, over and over, my lungs burning, my arms trembling with the effort.
And he just stands there.
He doesn't catch my wrists or try to restrain me. He doesn't tell me to calm down.
He just takes it. Every hit. Every scream.
Every ounce of rage I've been carrying since the day they came for me.
He absorbs it all, his body solid and unmoving.
"I hate you!"