Page 9 of Desolation
At least I successfully evaded the birthday question. A silver lining, I suppose.
I roll over and turn my bedside light off, letting the room fall into darkness, blanking my mind in an attempt to make way for sleep. Maybe that will make the confusion from this entire day fade away.
Tomorrow will be better.
I’ll make sure of it.
I just need to get my shit together before then, make sure my brain’s in prime condition to compartmentalize.That’s doable, right?
Laughing at the thought, I realize how unlikely that actually is.I’m a mess, who am I kidding?
As I lament over the loss of my sanity, the floorboards outside my door creak and my ears perk up. The boys haven’t snuck into my room for a snuggle since we were little and the nightmares stopped for all of us. Beth’s asleep, so who’s out there?
A memory itches at the back of my mind as my heart picks up pace.
What if it isn’t one of the boys or Beth? What if—
A heavy hand falls on the doorknob, twists, turns, and my hands fist the pillow beneath me.
It’s been fifteen years. He can’t just waltz into my room again.
Can he?
I’m not a baby and I’m not helpless anymore, so why is the stench of alcohol overwhelming my senses? Pressure at my back, the phantom touch of heavy, meaty hands, one between my legs, one on my undeveloped chest, restraining me—
No, no, no. This isn’t happening. It’s not him.
The smell of peppermint hits me and my heart soars with relief so suddenly, I almost think it stopped beating.Ash.It’s Ash.
Immediately, I lock the memory of Rafael and Tina, my first foster ‘family,’ back into the recess of my brain. The constant screaming, the fighting, the assault I experienced for years—I've moved past all of that now. Back then, during an annual checkup with the foster system on my sixth birthday, I told them Rafael pet me like a dog. It was the best way I could describe it to them at the time, but I had to tell them. I hadn't known what was happening at the time, but I knew it was wrong.
It took a year of counselling with someone from the Department of Children and Family before I began to grasp what Rafael had done and even after that, I needed Beth, the caring, new office assistant who had showered me with love and attention before taking me home. Within a year of that, all of the boys were here as well and I healed a little more having them to grow up with.
She said she felt drawn to us, like we were her opportunity to give all the love she’d locked inside her after her family died in a flash flood two years before she met us.
Escaping that foster home was the first time I took control of my life.
I won’t let them sneak back in and take it back. I won’t letanyonetake that from me.
The lingering, unwelcome caresses of the flashback make me less-than-happy about his sudden appearance when I’m already upset with the boys. I steel myself as I sneer up at him. “What do you want, Ash?”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “Just wanna talk.”
“Oh, you can talk now but you couldn’t earlier when I asked you all a simple question? Funny, that.”
He rolls his eyes and walks over to the bed—not even a little intimidated by my bad mood—and gives me a nudge. “Shut up and move over.”
Ugh, he’s so assertive.
Why do I like it?Down girl, down. We’re supposed to be mad at him.
Sighing and letting some of my anger dissipate, I shuffle over to the side of my full-sized bed to make room for him. We can’t lay shoulder to shoulder like we did when we were little without half falling off the bed now. He’s way too massive for that so I end up laying on my side facing him, while he lays on his back with his arms stretched behind his head.
I put my hand on his stomach and marvel at the feel of his smooth skin, and then shake him slightly to get his attention.
“Earth to Ash. What do you want? I was trying to go to sleep if you haven't noticed. Lights were off. I was about to attempt to become a human burrito in my comforter.”
He continues to lay in silence up to the point that I think I’ll need to repeat myself again or gently extract the words from his mind like I used to do when we were growing up.
