I can't take it anymore. The only thing I ever want anymore is death. Well, my dreams give a different story, actually. If I focus only on my dreams, the thing I want most is Milan. I want him to be here, comforting me and erasing the pain that Petre causes me.

Today is my birthday. I ought to be happy about that. Instead, I'm depressed and hurting. So I turn to my memories for solace.

"Hey, Meri! Want to help me make popcorn? It's family tradition to watch a movie and eat popcorn on Saturday nights..." Milan twists his shirt hem nervously, shifting from one foot to another.

"Sure," I say shyly. "What are we watching?"

"I don't know. You get to pick, okay? My parents usually take turns with me, but we just finished the cycle. Dad said you could pick too. But..." He bites his lip as we go into the kitchen together. "We always watch in the basement."

I shiver, but I twine my fingers with his reassuringly. "I'll be okay. It's just a basement, right?"

He looks at me for a long moment. "I know you don't like basements..."

"Yeah, I know that too. But it's your basement. I'll be fine." Truth be told, I didn't want to go into the basement. But I know I can trust Milan, and his basement isn't as scary as some of the ones I've been in. It doesn't strike the same terror into my heart as the one at my old house did.

"Well, if you're sure..."

Bang!

The door flies open, and Petre walks in with a big smile. "Your mom's out for the day. And guess what?"

I don't respond. Instead, I huddle as close to the bed's headrest, clutching my knees to my chest. I keep my eyes down, hoping that he'll just hurry up with whatever he wants to say and go. Today isn't a happy one at all. Not only is it depressing because I should be celebrating for the first time in eight years, but it heralds my legal coming of age. That should've meant freedom, but instead, it provides Petre with the ability to do what he wants with me.

The trepidation gnawing at my gut gets stronger as he comes closer.

"Well, guess what?" he asks again, impatience creeping into his tone.

"I don't know," I whisper. "What?"

Taking that as encouragement, Petre comes to sit on the bed at my feet. I pull them back, trying not to touch them, but he scoots closer, refusing to allow me to evade him like I have the last four days. He'd been allowing it, but apparently the safe period was over.

"It means you can come downstairs and see your surprise," he says.

I look away, tears in my eyes. "I don't want it..."

"Don't be like that, Meri. I put a lot of effort into this," he says, sighing.

Flinching when he touches my ankle, I shake my head. "No. I don't want it," I repeat quietly.

"Well, you're still going to get it," he answers, getting up.

I shy away when I realize that he's going to force me to leave the room. He ignores my body language per usual and scoops me up. As soon as his hand slides up my leg, I start struggling. Terror fuels my adrenaline as I try to get free. Lashing out, I rake my fingernails across his face.

Milan taught me basic defense moves after school when he realized that I didn't know any of them. After the attack at school, he wanted to be certain I could stop that kind of thing if the need arose. My throat tightens as I recall his patient instruction. I can't even bring any of it to bear on Petre. The most I can do is flail and scratch or hit. He sets me on my feet, but he doesn't let go of my waist.

Desperate, I try to punch him or poke him in the eyes, but he pins my arms under his and picks me up again. I start to cry and scream at the same time, but the sounds are weak because I haven't used my voice much in the last four days. I've hardly touched the things he brings up for meals, and I've lost four pounds already. If I can keep this up, I'll starve myself into an early grave and free myself of this tumultuous existence. "Let me go!" I wail, trying to pull my arms free.

He presses his arms closer, forcing me to go limp against his chest in order to be comfortable. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I slam my forehead against his hard chest in desperation. As expected, he doesn't even flinch. It just makes my head ache instead.

"This was supposed to be a good surprise, love. You weren't supposed to freak out on me."

I hiccup as I start choking on my sobs. "G-good? You're forcing m-me to t-touch you, a-and m-making me go w-where I d-don't want to..." I stammer out between hysterical sobs.

"Breathe, princess. You're going to make yourself sick."

"D-don't care," I gulp, feeling sick.

"I wouldn't have to carry you if you'd just come downstairs. It's your birthday, so I wanted to celebrate it. You haven't had a celebration in years, I'm betting."

My sobs subside as he sets me down in the kitchen. I stumble away from him, holding my hands out to stop him from touching me when he tries to steady me. "D-don't touch me," I whisper. "I don't w-want to celebrate it w-with you."

He frowns, crossing his arms. "Why not?"

A disbelieving laugh gurgles out of me. "W-why not?" I stammer. "Why would I? I want to be home."

"This is home," he says flatly, sitting down on a stool. "Now sit down. I got you a cake and a present."

I press my back to the kitchen wall, refusing to go anywhere near him as he pushes a box across the counter towards me. Instead of coming over to take it, I just stare at it and don't move a muscle. Petre sighs and gets up.

With a squeak, I try to slip away, but he cages me in with his arms like he did that day in the bathroom when he caught me with the pills. His minty breath fans over my face, and I turn my head away, unable to stand his close proximity.

"How many times over the last few days could I have taken you against your will?" he asks bluntly.

I shake my head, staying silent.

"Any time I wanted, that's how many," he snaps. "But I haven't. I haven't because I'm not totally depraved. I told you that I would wait. I have. I am. So quit shying away and acting like I'm going to hurt you. Just stay away when I'm drunk, and you won't have to worry." His five-o'clock stubble brushes roughly across my cheek as he presses closer to whisper in my ear. "Now come sit down, enjoy yourself, and open the gift, please."

Trembling, I look up at him, my lips parting slightly. I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes as I murmur, "After I do, can you please let me go home?"

His jaw tightens as his crystalline eyes become glacial. "You still won't trust me after everything we've been through?"

I don't reply. You mean after everything you've put me through... I think as he stares down at me angrily.

"Fine."

Startled, I push at his chest, trying to get more room. "Wait, what?"

"I said... Fine. You can go back to that child you're supposedly in love with. Clearly, I'm not good enough, so fine..." Hurt flashes across his face as he steps away and sits back down. "At least open up the gift and share the cake with me."

Still stunned, I stumble over to my spot at the counter. I barely register what I'm doing as I pull the wrapping paper off the box carefully. Red velvet greets my eyes as I pull off the last of the paper. A pretty white ribbon meets in the middle of the box in a tiny bow. Almost afraid to open it, I lift the lid with trembling fingers.

Nestled inside is a necklace. The pendant is that of a dragon with a ruby red eye. The gems around it are clear and crystalline, and the filigree that weaves around the design is gold. It shines softly in the warm light from the hanging lamps over the counter. I pull it out of the box, letting the thin, delicate chain slip through and over my fingers.

"Do you like it?" he asks anxiously.

Embarrassed, I nod. I didn't want to like whatever he bought me, but I can't lie about it. I do like the gift. "Why the dragon?" I finally ask.

He shrugs when I look at him. "It reminded me of you. You might be forgiving, meek, and gentle, but inside sleeps a dragon."

I stare at the pendant as it dangles from the chain, twisting to glint in the light.

"The diamonds reminded me of your front to me, and the single ruby made me think about how, underneath that icy exterior, you're really a passionate young lady."

The fact that he's put so much thought into this is a little disturbing. I suddenly feel uncomfortable as I look at the gift.

"Can I help you put it on?" he asks.

I clutch the pendant in my hand, shaking my head. "Please don't..."

He looks away, but not before I catch the glint of anger and pain there. I don't understand him. He abused me while he was dating my mother. Then he marries my mother and confesses that he loves me. He's at least ten years my senior, but he acts like he's my age. Then other times his actions remind me that he's far more experienced than I am, and that makes me feel insecure and terrified. The thought that I'm in the power of such an individual horrifies me.

"Hope you like chocolate," he mumbles, pushing a cupcake toward me.

A candle is pushed into the center, and Petre rummages through the side drawer to find a lighter for it. He finds it and lights the candle with a small smile. "Make a wish."

I raise a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah. You have to..."

Sighing, I make one, keeping an eye on him warily. He doesn't say or do anything as I make my wish and blow out the candle. When I don't make a move to eat the cupcake, he motions to it. "Well, go on..."

I look at it, knowing that I don't have any other option. But I feel sick thinking about it. After going so long without eating under the intention to starve myself to death, I can't abide the thought of such rich food. Still, I nibble at it a bit to satisfy him.

Even than little bit makes me feel ill. "I can't, Petre... I really can't."

He looks crestfallen. "Do you not like it? I can get a different..."

"I haven't eaten anything much in days. You know what that does to the stomach. If I eat any more of this, I'm going to be sick." I say, not bothering to make something up. As horrible as I feel for the sudden look of guilt in his eyes, I don't want to take the words back. He deserves it for making me so miserable.

I almost shock myself with that realization. The change that has been wrought in me over the last few months is remarkable. I haven't lost my compassion, but I've learned to stick up for myself, refuse to accept ill treatment, and have some self respect. Because of this, I've found it possible to dislike Petre openly and not to dismiss everything he does wrong by immediately forgiving it.

"Oh," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

While the silence reigns over us all, I bite my lip and stare in nauseated pain at the cupcake. Finally, I say, "Can we go please? I want to spend the rest of the day with Milan, and it's nearly six now."

"Of course," Petre says, his voice dejected and his shoulders are slumped.

I still don't feel bad for it. I'm going to see Milan tonight.

***

Walking up to the door, I knock softly, worried that no one will be home. The lights are all off, but one light still glows through the shades. With surprise, I see that it's my room. Then I remember that it's Saturday. The family's probably in the basement.

As I'm pondering this out in the cold, the door swings open. Petre has already left, and I'm suddenly thankful for that. I don't want him marring my reunion with the family and Milan. Speaking of Milan, he throws open the screen door and tugs me into a big hug.

I wrap my arms around him with a sigh, burying my face in his neck as we both stand in the doorway, shivering. Neither of us say anything, and the relief that we both feel is palpable. He holds me tightly, his face buried in my hair, and I realize he's crying when his body starts shaking. I'm crying too as he pulls me into the house and shuts the door.

He wipes away my tears, ignoring his own, and smiles shakily. "I prayed so hard that you'd come home," he whispers.

I start crying harder after that. "I'm s-so sorry," I manage.

He rubs my back and hugs me to him again. "It's okay... It's alright, Meri. You're back. That's all that matters. You're safe, and I didn't lose you... We'll be okay... Shh..."

At this point, I think he's just talking and saying whatever comes to mind. With a shaky sigh, I wrap my arms around his neck as sleep, hunger, and exhaustion crash into me. My knees buckle as I whisper, "I'm sorry, Milan. I just loved you too much to keep hurting you..."

I feel his strong arms catching me as I collapse, and then darkness takes over.

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