Page 4 of Love Under Siege

“Uhh…how did we get here? Where are my parents?” I ask as I keep looking around my room.

Jacob lifts my head by my chin, “I told them to wait and brought you back here. You looked scared and I wanted to give you a moment before we faced them again”.

“Oh…right” I say, feeling the uneasiness in my stomach begin to grow.

He rubs my arms, soothing me from the inside out. “Areyou okay?” he asks again.

With a shaky exhale, "I umm… I just had a flashback, that’s all" my voice barely a whisper. "It's nothing, just a… a bad memory."

Jacob's expression softens with understanding as he wraps me in a comforting embrace. "You're safe now, Anya," he reassures me.

We exit my room and head toward the living room to face my parents. My stomach is in knots as we enter the room and I can feel the tension. My dad sits across from my grandpa, wearing a concerned yet resolute expression. My mom, seated next to him, appears to have been crying, a sight that always hits me like a punch to the gut. I've always hated seeing her in distress, especially if I'm the cause.

With a heavy heart, I bow my head and move to take a seat, but before I can, my parents envelop me in a tight embrace. It's unexpected but welcomed, and I find myself leaning into their warmth, craving the comfort they offer. Glancing at Jacob, I can sense his inner turmoil. He wants to protect me, to shield me from whatever pain lies ahead, but he knows this is something I must face on my own. And as much as I appreciate his presence, I understand that this battle is mine to fight.

“Anya are you okay?" My mom's voice breaks through the heavy silence, and I nod, trying to convey reassurance despite the turmoil swirling inside me. But her next words shatter the fragile peace, casting a shadow over the moment. "Why didn't you call us? This is what we've been worried about, and now look, you got hurt!" Her tone is accusatory, triggering me.

Instinctively, I pull back, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow. But then I feel Jacob's hand on my back, a silent reminder of his unwavering support. Drawing strength from him, I gather the courage to speak up.

"You know, that's so like you!" I retort, my glare meeting my mother's gaze head-on. "I get hurt, and immediately it becomes my fault, right?"

The words hang in the air, charged with frustration and resentment, as I confront the underlying pattern of blame and judgment that has plagued our relationship for far too long.

My mother's taken aback by my accusation. "I don't blame you, Anya!" she protests, her voice tinged with defensiveness.

I scoff bitterly. "Yes you do! Ever since I came back home, you've blamed me for Paul! You told me I embarrassed you, embarrassed the church! Every time his name came up, you gaslit me! You never stopped reminding me every single day of the mistake I made by staying with Paul."

"Anya, you're being overdramatic," my mom interjects, attempting to dismiss my feelings.

Throwing my hands in the air in frustration, I continue, "And you still gaslight me! I can't win with you! No matter what I do, it's never going to be enough to make up for what I did!"

Nana chimes in, “now why don’t we all take a breath and try to calm down”.

"YOU'RE BEING CHILDISH, ANYA! STOP THE DRAMATICS!" My mother shouts, ignoring Nana, as she gets in my face, her anger palpable.

Before I can respond, Jacob steps in front of me, pulling me back gently. "This may not be my place, but she isn't to blame for what she went through," he asserts firmly.

My mother glares at him, her anger flaring. "You're right, it's not your place! Stay out of it! You didn't live it; you didn't hear the words being said about her!About us!" Her words are a harsh reminder of the deep wounds that still fester beneath the surface.

"Andyoudidn't live through whatshewent through!" Jacob persists, his voice steady and unwavering. "Youdidn't have to cover the scars and bruises!Youdidn't have to live with the victim blaming!" His words are a painful reminder of the trauma I endured.

"Jacob, stop! No!" I plead, but he continues, standing tall and resolute. "Youweren't the one who had to deal with the hitting day in and day out!”

I pull on him, “No Jacob please! Don’t!” pleading with him not to go further.

“Andmore importantly,Youweren’t the one being raped every night!” he pauses and the room is so silent you can hear a pin drop.

Jacob then puts his arm around me, “she had to deal withallof it, and with no one there to support her or tell her she would be okay." His grip tightens around me, offering silent solidarity, and I'm overcome with emotion. On the one hand, I don’t know if I was mentally prepared for my parents to hear my secret but on the other hand, no one has ever stood beside me in front of them, no one has cared enough to stand up for me before.

Tears stream down my face as I look at Jacob, gratitude and disbelief churn within me. But when I turn to face my parents, their expressions are a mix of shock and denial.

"Anya, what is he talking about?" My father's tone is firm but laced with concern, while my mother's accusatory words cut through me like a knife. "What lies have you been telling people?"

My head snaps up, shocked that even when they heard everything, theystillchose to not believe me. Nana comes next to me and places her hand on my shoulder. Having both Jacob and her standing next to me gives me courage.

“I think you both should hear her out, instead of assuming she is lying” Nana says, squeezing my shoulder in comfort.

“Mom! Stay out of this!” my dad says glaring at Nana. Then my mom repeats, “You have a tendency to fabricate stories to get attention, so I’ll ask again. What lies have you been telling people!” she seethes.

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