“Hey Karen, what’s going on? Is Emma okay?” I ask as I wait by the crosswalk for the light to change.

“Hello dear, Emma’s fine. We just got home from an exhausting few hours at the park. Poor thing fell asleep as soon as she sat down on my couch,” Karen tells me with a laugh.

The light changes and I look both ways before crossing the street, smiling when I picture Emma talking Karen’s ear off and then crashing mid-sentence.

“I hate to worry you or anything, but I promised you I would let you know if anything strange happened while Emma was with me,” Karen tells me, all the humor gone from her voice.

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, my hand gripping the phone tightly. Karen saw me several times in the hall of our apartment building right after I showed up on Brady’s doorstep in the middle of the night. She saw the bruises and the cast, but never asked any questions. When she agreed to watch Emma a month later, she took my hands in hers and told me that it wouldn’t always be this hard. She told me that she would never pry into my personal life, but if I ever needed someone to talk to she would always be available. As much as I wanted to trust her with my secrets, I just couldn’t. It was hard enough to trust someone else with my daughter. I did, however, tell her to let me know if anything strange ever happened when she was with Emma. It didn’t matter how big or how small, if it seemed off, she was to tell me right away. Karen agreed without question. Each day I get to know her more, it makes me wish my mother could show even half the compassion that Karen does.

“What happened?” I ask in a shaky voice.

Karen sighs. “At first I didn’t think anything of it. Emma was on the swings and I was a few feet away on a bench watching her. After a little while she came running up to me and she told me that there was a man looking at her. When she pointed to where he was, there was no one there. I just chalked it up to her little imagination going wild and sent her back to play. When we were walking home, I noticed a car going real slow down the street past us. I didn’t think anything of it until the car rolled past us again and I realized I had seen the same car parked near the playground when we got there.”

I can’t stop my hands from shaking. “Did you see who was driving?”

“I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, they were wearing a hat and glasses. I’m not sure it’s the same person Emma saw watching her at the park, but I thought it would be best to tell you,” Karen replies.

It’s a miracle I can speak without crying, but I manage to thank her and tell her I’ll be home early from work. Right now all I can think about is getting home to my baby and holding her. I hate to do this to Emma, but for the time being, trips to the park are going to have to be put on hold. This could just be a coincidence, but I can’t take that chance.

I take a few moments to calm my racing heart and, with a deep breath and a lift of my chin, I fling open the door to the office and walk inside, tamping down my nerves over Karen’s phone call and preparing to face whatever Austin throws at me. I stop in my tracks when I see the empty office. The unoccupied room isn’t what makes my heart speed up and my hands shake, though. On the edge of my desk are five coffee mugs from the kitchenette, each one turned so that their handles are facing in the exact same direction. Those mugs weren’t on my desk when I left an hour ago, and even if they were, I would NEVER place them like that next to each other. I feel like a fool for standing here freaking out over a couple of cups, but it’s impossible not to when I think back to one particular day so many years ago…

As I finished emptying the dishwasher, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out the makings for a sandwich. I figured while William was working from home today I would make him lunch and take it upstairs to him in his office. I flipped on the radio attached to the underside of one of the kitchen cabinets and began to hum along to the music as I made his favorite – bologna and Swiss with mustard.

I hadn’t realized that William walked into the kitchen until I heard the crash of a glass breaking against the kitchen counter. I jumped and turned around, dropping the knife covered in mustard to the floor.

“What the hell is this mess?” William asked, holding the cabinet door next to the microwave open.

I quickly bent to pick up the knife and tossed it into the sink as I made my way over to him to see what he was so upset about. I stared at the shelves in the cupboard, filled with coffee cups.

“I-I just emptied the dishwasher, they’re all clean,” I told him softly, confused that maybe a dirty one had gotten in there by mistake.

In a flash, his hand was around the back of my neck in a painfully tight grip as he shoved my face closer to the shelves.

“The handles aren’t facing out. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that all of the handles should be facing the same way?” he shouts.

He joked about it once. ONCE when we first got married he asked if it was too much work to turn the coffee mugs around so he could grab the handles. We laughed about it. Right here in this very spot we laughed about his coffee mug OCD and then we made love on the kitchen floor.

Before I could reply, he shoved me away from him and began turning all of the mugs so that the handles faced the same direction.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were joking,” I whispered.

I’m so confused by his actions that I barely had time to react when his hand wrapped around one of the mugs and he turned and hurtled it in my direction. I quickly shielded my face with my hands and the ceramic cup smacked into the top of my hand, hitting me with enough force that I cried out in pain as the cup crashed to the floor in a pile of broken pieces. I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling as I stood in the kitchen in shock and cradled my sore hand to my chest. I stared at William as he turned around all of the coffee mugs in the cabinet so they were in one, uniform row.

“Next time, don’t be so stupid. The handles should all face the same way.”

Before I even know what’s happening, I’m stalking across the office and swiping my hand across the top of my desk. The mugs are sent flying to the floor, each one smashing against the tile as I stand there shaking with fury, staring at the mess I just made.

“Just because you’re pissed at me doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the coffee cups.”

I whip around and the smile on Austin’s face dies when he sees me.

“Did you put those on my desk? Why did you put them there like that?” I ask frantically as I turn away from him and begin picking up the shattered pieces.

I hear him walk up behind me, but I ignore him.

“The handles can’t face out, they can’t face out,” I whisper to myself.

My throat gets tight and I blink back the tears as I pick up every single piece, piling them in my hands and not paying attention to the tiny cuts I’m making on my skin as I clutch tightly to the broken shards.

I jump when I feel Austin’s hands on my shoulders. “Hey, come on, it’s just a couple of cups.”

His voice is soft and comforting and it should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. I know in my mind I’m not behaving rationally, but I can’t make myself stop. I shrug out of his grasp and quickly stand, dumping the handfuls of glass into the trashcan next to my desk. I stare down at the pile at the bottom of the can in a trance and swipe angrily at a tear that falls down my cheek. When I pull my hand away from my face, the dots of blood on my palm catch my eye. I hold both of my hands up and stare unblinking at the cuts.

“Don’t do that again, the cups don’t belong like that,” I mutter, watching as a tiny river of blood makes its way down to the edge of my hand.

Austin is suddenly in front of me with his hands holding gently to my cheeks, lifting my head up to meet his eyes. His face is filled with confusion as he searches my face for answers. “Gwen, what the fuck? I didn’t do anything with the cups, I was out getting coffee.”

I glance over at my desk and see a paper cup from Starbucks sitting on the edge. His hands slide down off my face and he wraps them around both of my wrists, gently pulling me towards him.

I’m too busy thinking about the past and the memories I wish I could forever erase from my mind forever to worry about him touching me.

“Jesus Christ, you’re bleeding,” he mumbles as he drops one of my hands and wraps his arm around my waist.

My legs move robotically as he leads me over to the sink against the back wall of the office. He doesn’t say a word as he runs cold water, holding my hands under the steady stream until all the blood has washed down the drain. He silently pulls a towel from the top drawer next to the sink and gently pats both of my hands dry. I watch what he’s doing and have to bite back more tears.

What the hell is happening to me?

I can’t do this. I can’t fall apart like this, especially around Austin. I can’t be this weak, pathetic person around him or he’ll just jump right in and take advantage of the situation. I’m not that woman anymore. I don’t fall apart at the drop of a hat and I don’t let people walk all over me. Maybe he put those cups on my desk as a joke, not realizing what it would do to me, or maybe he didn’t. Either way, I can’t let him take care of me like I’m some wounded animal. I’ve fought hard these past couple of months to stop being such an insecure, cowardly person. I can take care of myself.