right? - d. twins✔️

viii

almost an hour later, my savior comes to the rescue. ethan parks his suv next to me, and
i position the seat so it's straight up again. he comes to my passenger door and i unlock it, letting him in. he slides into the seat, seeming to stare into my soul.

"alright, what's going on?" he questions, shifting himself in the seat so even his body is facing me. i show him my wrists, the same bruises that were there just a day ago. the same ones he asked about.

"yeah. you put the handcuffs on too tight." he snorts.

"i know you don't believe me. but i can explain everything." i begin stuttering, my lip quivering. should i tell him? he's my brother-in-law, and we've been pretty tight throughout mine and grayson's marriage, i suppose. would he really want to know that his brother, his best friend, beats his wife? and had been for the past two and a half years?

"why don't you want me to tell gray anything? are you like scared of him or something?" he teases. but i am not amused, and when he notices my expression, his smile drops.

"yes, ethan, i am. i am scared to death of my own husband."

"you aren't serious."

"look at these fucking bruises. remember when i had that bruise around my eye at thanksgiving? yeah, those are all from him." i state, getting choked up at the thought. the thought of how easily he could just throw me around like a rag doll with no remorse. of course, that was until the next day when he'd do anything to make up to me. once he actually went on his knees, begging to forgive him and love him again.

"no. my brother wouldn't do that. i mean, he can get kinda scary when he's mad, and so can i, but he'd never deliberately hit someone. especially his own wife." he denies. anger bubbles up inside of me, and my eyes narrow.

"you want proof?" i ask, reaching for my phone from the center console. i unlock it, pressing on the voice recording app. i click on my latest recording, the one right before thanksgiving which was nearly a month ago. i turn up the volume on my phone, ethan and i listening as the rain pattering outside on the pavement as muffled sound comes through the phone.

"gray, come on...don't." my recorded voice cries.

"oh, you're gonna fucking pay for looking at him in the bar. you fucking slut. you know that you're mine, and you've been mine since day one. isn't that right, vivian?" grayson's angry voice makes tears climb up my throat.

"of c-course gray, i'm sorry."

"good. now get over here." I remember that night so clearly. he had dragged me across the floor, leaving burns from the carpet on my back and arms. i thought he had broken my leg with how forceful he was, and i swear he had ripped out my hair.

with that, there are yelps, wails, punches, slaps, you name it and it's on that recording. it lasts for a good few minutes, and when i was finally able to get away from grayson, i turned it off, cutting out all noise. i lock the phone, setting it back down.

i look to ethan with tear filled eyes. his dark eyes even look glazed over with tears.

"wow, viv, i-"

"don't worry. you can leave now if you want." my voice is low, and all i want to do is cry. cry in someone's arms, or maybe it'd be better to just cry on my own. a couple fall, and i wipe my nose before it can continue.

"what about when i left you the other night?" he questions, his voice cracking.

"i drove off before he had a chance to do anything. almost died because i drove into oncoming traffic." i chuckle a little.

"i had no idea."

"no one does. i got skilled at hiding it after awhile." i sigh, leaning against the inside of the door, watching the water fall down the window slowly. silence fills the car for a few moments before he speaks up.

"vivian..." he sighs with frustration, running a hard hand through his hair.

i shrug, letting slow tears fall from my eyes. ethan sits shaking his hand, as if trying to find words in his head but knowing none are good enough for this situation.

he slams a fist into the dashboard causing me to jump. i stare at him, waiting. his face is nothing but anger, confusion, but most of all hurt.

"please know i'm not trying to make you hate him...or tear you apart, at all...i'm just scared...and i'm hurt, and I don't know what to do."

"i know," he says "i know, and i'm so sorry...fuck i'm so sorry."  he sets his head against the dashboard, hands interlocked above his head. i can't help but stare at him, the curve of his back, the veins in his arm, his bulging biceps.

"you can't go back."