I wake up, convinced I’m still dreaming. I’m wrapped in Roman’s thick arms, nestled against his hard body. Each breath, each rise and fall of his chest, is like a mantra that lulls me into a dream-like state of pure euphoria. I’m definitely dreaming. I’m twenty years old again, sneaking away to spend the night with Roman, telling my mom that I’m sleeping over at a friend’s house. It’s a beautiful dream I never want to end. But then the sound of a loud snore rips me away from my fantasy and as I wake, I realize that I’m not dreaming. I am lying in Roman’s warm embrace, his arms wrapped around me so tightly. And the snoring is courtesy of Miss Shakira, sprawled across the long, king-sized bed.

I push myself up, trying my best not to wake Roman, but the minute I move, his blue eyes dart open.

“You’re alive," he says, his voice still husky from sleep.

“You thought I wouldn’t be?”

“After yesterday…” Roman shakes his head. “You didn’t look so great. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible," I confess. "Wait, what happened yesterday?”

He props himself on his elbows and looks down at me, concern written on his face. “You got wasted, Daphni. Like next-level blitzed. You ran away, came home and threw up, and said some weird things.”

“Weird things?” I ask nervously.

“Yeah, well I put you in the shower and you started saying all this stuff about not being clean enough for me?”

My stomach drops and a wave of nausea overtakes me. I jump out of the bed and rush toward the bathroom, just making it to the toilet in time. It’s then that I realize I’m completely naked. Horrified, I rush back to the bedroom, covering myself in a towel.

“Why am I naked?” I ask, my voice thin with fear.

“What?” Roman asks, swinging his legs out from the bed as he rubs his eyes.

“Roman, why am I naked? What happened last night?”

His eyes darken and narrow down on me. “What are you asking me Daphni?”

I feel my breath hitch in my throat as I pull my gaze away, not able to look him in the eyes. “What did we do last night?” I ask, my voice soft and shaky.

He jumps from the bed and stalks toward me. “Are you asking me if we had sex last night?” He glowers down at me as he pulls a T-shirt over his head. “Are you asking me, five minutes after I told you that you were wasted beyond belief, if I took advantage of you and had sex with you?”

I can't look at him. I know he's mad. And I know he would never do that, never take advantage of me or hurt me. Truthfully, I don't even know why I asked. I had never asked any of the other men in my past who I had found in my bed in the morning. Why start now? Why ask the one man who would never do anything to hurt me?

A wave of panic washes over me and I feel my skin prickling with nerves. This is getting too real for me. I need to get out of here. Without thinking, I run out of the room and slam the door to mine across the hall. Reaching for some clothes, I throw on whatever I can find before running down the stairs.

Even when I hear Roman call my name, I continue to run. Though I’m weak and definitely dehydrated from my binge last night, I feel a rush of adrenaline fuel me, pushing me farther and farther away—away from the house, and Roman, and the truth about why I’d pushed him away in the first place. I couldn't bear to see his face when he realized how damaged I truly was. I wouldn’t be able to survive him walking away, disgusted at who I’d become.

So I keep running.

The beach is empty. It's still early morning, and the sun is inching up toward the horizon. I run toward it, not even noticing the water lapping at my ankles. Mindlessly, I continue to wade deeper and deeper, until the water is at my hips, soaking my shorts.

My body starts to go numb, and a calming serenity overtakes me with each step farther into the clear blue water. Could I do it? Could I let the water take me away from everything? All these horrible memories? Tempted, I take another step forward. The water wraps around me and while it’s cold against my skin, it feels comforting. I let my fingertips brush against the water lapping around my hips. Lifting one hand, I lick the salt water from my hands as I take one step further into the water. I could do it, I decide. I could let the water take me. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go.

Before I can take another step deeper, I feel a hand grab my arm, spinning me back around. I look up to see Roman. His eyes match the peaceful blue of the ocean and I wonder if that is why I feel so drawn to the water. Maybe a sad part of myself thinks that if I can swim out far enough, I can surround myself with all the beautiful blue that I see in Roman’s eyes, and maybe that will be enough to help me forget.

“What are you doing, Daphni?” he asks, his eyes desperately searching mine. He looks scared and when I look down and see that the water is up near my waist, I realize why.

I lift one shoulder. “Maybe it’s better to just let the ocean take me away. Maybe it’s what I deserve.”

He cups my face in his hands, his eyes piercing mine. “Daphni, baby, talk to me. What are you saying?”

His honest, searching eyes on mine, his furrowed brow laced in concern, his anxious, ragged breaths: they all break me. I’ve spent so long craving his touch. And here he is. I can't control it any longer. I'm exhausted. So I unravel and let all the pain and hurt and anger uncoil, sending my body shaking with quiet sobs. Roman pulls me into his arms, giving me the permission I need to fall apart.

“I’m so sorry, Roman. I’m so sorry,” I repeat over and over again as my hands dig into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him.

He squeezes his arms around me as he whispers in my ear the words I’ve needed to hear now for seven long years. “I forgive you.”

He lifts me into his arms and carries me away from the water. Once we reach the safety of the beach, he gently sets me down on the sand. He sits behind me, pulling me against his chest as he wraps his arms around me, his hands rubbing my arms to warm me.

“You’re scaring me, Daphni,” he says, his warm breath blowing past my ear.

“I never meant to leave you, Roman,” I say, my voice just above a whisper. “After everything that happened, I couldn’t face you again. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, confused.

I sigh and shrug my shoulders. “Broken. Ruined.”

Roman shifts, pulling me toward him, so that I’m facing him, no longer able to hide.

“Daphni?”

I swallow the salty air and force myself to look into his eyes. To trust him. To finally reveal every shattered, sharp edge that I’ve been hiding from the world. I don't know if he’ll want me after this, or if he’ll want to help put those pieces back together again. And when I open my mouth to start my story, I know it's the bravest thing I will ever do.

“When my mom signed me to MacArthur’s label, he wanted to start recording immediately. He told me all about his special recording studio at his ranch in Beverly Hills. It all sounded so glamorous. So I went, and he insisted that in order to maintain my ‘artistic authenticity’ we needed to record just the two of us. So he led me down to his studio and my mom just drove away. Left me there. And he brought me into his studio and he…he…” I pause, clenching my eyes closed, holding in the swell of tears, and wishing that I could take all those terrible memories and drown them in the sea.

“What did he do, Daphni?” Roman asks, his jaw clenched as he watches me.

I open my eyes, letting the tears escape as I continue. “He forced me,” I say, the words just above a whisper. And when Roman looks at me, his eyes filling with concern, I almost hope that the sound of the waves lapping at the shore was enough to drown out my confession. But I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to hide. I want this to be over.

“He raped me,” I say, my voice stronger and when I see Roman’s body tense, I know he heard me. “Over and over. For a week. Until my mom came back. I was so scared, but I finally told her on the way home. She just looked at me and asked, ‘Well, how badly do you want to be a star, Daphni?’" I shake my head and let out a bitter laugh. “And I didn’t say a word. Because I did want it. So badly, and I knew what she meant: that it meant keeping my mouth shut and giving him what he wanted. I felt so dirty, so disgusting. I was supposed to meet you that weekend to say goodbye before you deployed.” I bring my eyes up to his. “How could I have faced you? I was ruined. You would have known, and I didn’t want you to ever see me like that, especially right before you had to leave.”

At my confession, Roman's arms wrap around me as he pulls me into his lap. His body envelopes mine, providing me the safety to let myself completely shatter, break off into millions of microscopic pieces as small as the individual grains of sand surrounding us.

“It wasn’t your fault, Daphni. You didn’t ask for that,” he says after my breaths start to steady. His voice is so sincere, I almost find myself believing him.

“I wish I could believe you."

“Daphni, what could you have done? You were trapped in a house alone with a monster. You did what you had to do to survive.”

I laugh, a hollow and bitter sound. “I could have stopped him. I could have run away. I didn’t.”

“Daphni, you were only twenty. He was a grown man. He took advantage of you. Don’t you dare put this on yourself.”

I look at him and offer him a sad smile. “I try so hard to forget it. Sometimes the drinking helps, but it’s getting harder and harder to forget. And seeing you again, it reminds me of everything I was forced to give up. And for what? Some shiny awards I keep locked in a closet? Awards I won for singing songs that mean nothing to me? Nothing means anything to me. I’m numb. And I’m exhausted from feeling nothing.”

Roman's hand caresses my arm. His touch is so soft and gentle, I'm almost convinced I'm imagining it.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me what I can say to make it all better,” he pleads.

“I’m scared that there is nothing you can do," I confess after a long pause. "I’m terrified that I’ll be broken like this forever.”

“Then let me help put you back together.”