Page 223 of Broken Bonds
She sits up. “What happened? Is it over?”
He nods. “It’s over.”
Her breath hitches as she stares at him while I take a seat next to her.
“Is he…” She can’t finish the statement.
Todd nods. “And Thad, David, and Harrison.”
“We’re…free?”
He nods again. “You’re free, and you’re safe, and you’re home.” He meets my gaze. “Both of you.”
Her breath hitches again as I wrap my arms around her, Todd holding both of us as he moves to sit on her other side.
She’s not crying, exactly, but shaking with wordless, nearly silent gasps as her hands clamp around ours.
I know the feeling.
I’m not mourning the death of my father and brothers.
I refuse to give them that energy.
Especially when they would’ve gladly, eagerly killed me and Mom.
I mourn the relationship I never had with them because they refused to accept me for who I was.
I’m not “happy” they’re dead. I’m damned sure not happy Brynnella was forced to miscarry against her will, and that none of my sisters-in-law have children.
Then again, maybe that did them a favor. My brothers likely would have made their children as miserable as our father made us. My brothers adapted by emulating him. I adapted by defying him.
Finally, Mom’s tears come, and she weeps as Todd rocks both of us in his protective embrace.
Mom’s free.
I’m free.
It’s not the outcome I hoped for, but I’m not complaining, either. The only outcome that would have made me “happy”—and the most ridiculously impossible outcome, at that—would have been my father and brothers having a complete change of heart and personalities and becoming decent people.
There was zero chance of that happening. For starters, because my father wasn’t wired that way. Secondly, he killed too many people—including sisters I was denied—for me to even want a relationship with him. And Goddess only knows how many my brothers killed, either at his command or on their own.
The world is a better place without the four of them in it, unable to further spread their tainted genes.
And, thankfully, Mom’s still young enough that she will hopefully find peace and happiness now, too.
Four Months Later
It’s a comfortably cool evening, and as I settle deeper into my comfy lounger chair on the screened lanai around the pool, I find it hard to believe I’m…here.
I’m seeing a shifter therapist at Todd’s insistence. She’s been very nice to work with. Very helpful in processing my past trauma. I still have a long way to go, but at least our baby will, hopefully, never experience anything like that.
Despite my anxiety over giving birth, I focus on eagerly meeting our daughter for the first time. I can imagine Todd learning how to braid pigtails and teaching her how to ride a bike, and standing like a stony-faced sentry behind her the first time she brings someone home to meet us while I try to play peacemaker so they’re not scared off.
Even as I’m secretly pleased that Todd’s the hard-ass because I can be the “good cop” to his “bad cop,” even though I likely won’t want her dating until she’s about 80 or so.
Yes, I’m kidding.
Sort of.
