Page 155 of Swallow Your Sorries

But that’s exactly what I’m doing because things are different now whether I want to accept them or not.

One, my mother hadn’t found goodness in Jarett.

Two, Elle had been hit with the same car as us on the same night. The same car that’s been MIA for two years. The same car I knew was dark green, but the analyst experts swore was black.

Three, Elle had confirmed that I wasn’t mistaken. She’d confirmed what I knew to be true for two years.

Four, she just wanted to free her mother. I wanted to free mine.

Five, we both coped with ballet.

Six, we both didn’t cope at all because Elle recorded her nightmares like some horror diary and I’d heard them all through her phone’s speaker when she had no idea I was listening. And me, well, she now knew I had them too.

“The drowning incident is the most prominent nightmare I have. For you, I think it’s the car crash and the viewing,” she says softly.

I don’t respond, flicking her nipple with my tongue again.

“You talk in your sleep,” she says softly. “Bart’s your father, right?”

We could talk all day about her father, but I’d already shared what I wanted to about mine.

I tense at the question, ready to pull away, but she takes me by surprise, locking her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

“You already know that I call my father by his first name too,” she whispers, her fingers travelling into my hair and softly massaging my scalp just like she did last night. I can’t help relaxing into her, my cock pressing into her soft belly, my cheek resting on the swell of her breast. “My friends dreamed of vacations at the beach and theme parks, and dresses and makeup. I wanted those things too, but I never dreamed about them. I dreamed about getting away from Jarett. I didn’t care if he died or if he simply abandoned us. I just wanted him gone by any means. That’s what I thought. Now that I know what happened to Madame, I realise how selfish ‘by any means’ really is. I only cared about my family and destroying it. But after I sent the email, I never paused to think about the fact that it could destroy yours, too.”

I tense again, but she continues stroking me, keeping my head pinned over her heartbeat.

“I had a Jarett to contend with, but you have a Bart you’re still stuck with.”

I say nothing, but she continues.

“You reenacted an entire conversation with him at your mother’s viewing. My father isn’t that calculating, manipulating, gaslighting with his words. He doesn’t have the vernacular, so he’s blunt. He’ll just say how he feels outright, like when he wishes I was never born.”

Instinctively, I pull her tighter. The thought of Elle not existing sends a stab straight through my heart. I’d never met Jarett but I was sure I hated him even more than she did. He helped to take away my mother and dared to threaten the one good thing he put out into the world.

Elle is goodness.

Just her staying with me in this dark place proved it.

I wouldn’t have done the same.

…

Would I?

I latch onto her other nipple and listen to her heartbeat as she continues.

“I know it’s not the same, but I do understand the patronising. I was patronised in a lot of ballet classes and it made me feel crazy. I preferred it when it was outright like with Mistress Benoit. It’s humiliating, but no one can pretend it's something else. I bet that’s what your father does. Pretend he’s only trying to make you better, stronger. Instead of the truth, which is that he’s shredding your spirit into pieces.”

“Then there are our mothers. You asked why I wanted to protect my mother when she never protected me. But you wanted to protect your mother too. Even though she wasn’t protecting herself by being reckless.”

“Elle—”

“It’s the truth. Both of our mothers didn’t really care about themselves. Your mother, not in that moment and my mother ever. Perhaps because they were both trapped in loveless marriages. Whatever their reasoning, I’m slowly realising that it’s not our responsibility to take care of them. In your sleep, you blamed yourself for the leak even though it was me. Even though it was you who took my phone. Even though it was your mother who had sex in public. Even though it was my father that consented to it. Even though she was unhappy, we can go on forever.”

“So what are you saying? No one’s to blame.”

“No. Our parents are to blame. There are a lot of factors, but ultimately it’s our parents. The fault doesn’t lie with us.”

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