SHAY: He turned to Laurel and said, “You’re a fragile little thing, aren’t you?” And before she could say anything, he kept going, saying, “Poor, thin-skinned Laurel. How have you not been eaten alive?”
I felt a spark of indignation, because I’d spent years trying to convince Laurel she was strong. I said, “That’s not true.”
Don reached down from his armchair and grabbed my jaw so hard I nearly rose up off the floor. I thought for a moment he’d snap the bone, but he just squeezed and stared at me, then let go. My ears were ringing. But I wasn’t mad—I was ashamed.
He turned back to Laurel and said, “You know better than anyone how easily a man can overpower a woman. What would your father say if he knew what you’d let happen?”
The living room was silent, everyone still as statues—except for Rachel, who squirmed, trying to lean and get a better look at Laurel’s face.
Don said, “Poor Edward Hargrove. I looked him up. Short man. Little Eddie. Died and left his wife and daughter unprotected. Isn’t that what you told me, Laurel? That sometimes you’re afraid you can’t step outside the house without getting hurt?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t block the sound of Laurel whispering yes.
He said, “You’re right to worry. Men are different. They’re built to take what they want. You’re vulnerable out there. You need someone to protect you.”
She nodded.
“You can’t do it yourself—and you shouldn’t have to. That’s not your job. You’re delicate Laurel. Poor, fatherless Laurel. I’ve never seen anyone ache for a strong hand as much as you.” He was unweaving her in front of us. Laurel bent over until her forehead touched her knees, wrapping her arms around herself, making herself small.
He said, “You need me, don’t you?”
She started rocking, back and forth.
I was numb to everything but the pain in my jaw. Clem was silent, too. She’d been quiet all day, wincing when Don made us sit on the floor, her back still raw from the belt the night before.
Don crouched beside Laurel and lifted her chin. He said, “Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”
He was choosing Laurel. The betrayal was a kick to the chest. As he led her out of the living room, she looked back at me, and—I could’ve sworn—there was triumph in her eyes.
I wanted to rip her away from him. I knew, even then, that Don was showing me I wasn’t actually special, that at the drop of a hat, it could be Laurel as easily as me.
Then Don said, “Shay, come along.”
It turns out I wasn’t being left behind. He wanted me to watch.
JAMIE: And did he…treat Laurel like he treated you?
SHAY: Different, because she was softer. But after, he still left her on the floor. By then, I wasn’t jealous anymore. I lay down next to her and ran my fingers through her hair until she fell asleep.
JAMIE: You went back to campus after that weekend, though, right? Tell me you found someone—a professor, if not a cop. Tell me you told someone what happened.
SHAY: Jamie.
（Laughter.）
You don’t understand. We never left again. Not for a year and a half.
JAMIE: What?
SHAY: Like he said, it wasn’t safe out there. There were men who would hurt us because we were weaker, and women who would try to manipulate us, take us away from him. I’d always suspected the world was cruel, but Don made me understand the true magnitude. The things that could happen if I wasn’t careful. No one had ever tried to protect me like that.
After a while, we only left to grocery shop, and even then we took Rachel, because she was more experienced. We began to ask his permission for everything. To eat. To pour a glass of water, go to the bathroom, go to bed. When we woke up in the morning, Don would suggest what we’d do that day, what to wear, what food we’d put on our plates and how much. Eventually the suggesting became telling. He asked Laurel to sew dresses for us because our clothes were too provocative. The dresses stopped past our knees and buttoned up the back, so it was hard for us to take them off, but easy for him. I remember thinking that was romantic. Don liked our hair twisted back with bobby pins. He said it was neat and pretty. He liked to tear it apart at night.