One hundred and thirty-nine

Talia's POV:

The agents exchanged a look, and I stared at them, knowing what they were thinking. Poor girl kept like an animal in a cage for a criminal's amusement. Once I felt that way too, but no longer. Now I would do anything to rewind the clock and go back to being Nicholas's captive. Call me a messed up girl, Stockholm syndrome or whatever shit. Aren't we all messed up one way or another? What right do we've to judge? It was better to be with a man who was kindly obsessed with me than the one that would hurt and leave me one day for insignificant reasons. He was my happy place who I knew was making adjustments to accommodate the both of us.

Agent Regan turned toward me and cleared his throat. "Miss Jacobs, we'll have a sexual abuse counselor speak to you later this afternoon. She's very good—"

"There's no need," I interrupted. "I'm fine." And I was I didn't feel victimized or abused. I just felt numb.