Page 101 of Painting Her Fate

“Hey,” he continues in a low whisper once I meet his stare, “It was my fault. You were not ready, I pushed you. I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you.”

My eyes close as he strokes his thumb over my cheek.How I’ve missed this, missed him.

A moment passes as the speaker in the corner starts playingThe Scientistby Coldplay. How bloody fitting.

“Alexander.” I pause and open my eyes, “I’ve done quite bit thinking these many days away. I want to trust you as you trust me, but my secrets, they are-.” I fade off trying to think of the right wording.

“Delicate.” He finishes for me.

I nod. He gets me.You are ready. You can do it this time.

“Yes.” I gesture to the pot of coffee, “Let’s grab a cup of coffee, it’s time that we talk about my monster.”

Zander needs to be given the choice to stay with me, as broken as I am. I hope he can see through all the anguish.

Once at the sofa, I take one more sip from my cup then set it on the table. Zander does the same, offering his hand for comfort. He knows what I need, it’s his touch that will help me get through this. I clear my throat, the bitter taste lingering on my taste buds. Taking a deep breath, I think back to what I have played through my head all week on how to begin this conversation.Just take it slow.

“My childhood was a bit different than most. My parents had a weeklong fling whilst my mum was in her second year at Uni. She, nineteen, dad twenty-three. My Gran wanted to see her daughter complete law school, offering to help take on the responsibility of raising her granddaughter. I’m grateful for my Gran every single day.” I stroke my thumb anxiously over his hand.

He sets his other hand atop mine, “If this is too much-”

“No. I’m okay. Please, let me.” It’s not a lie this time, his touch is grounding me, my headspace is clear. I can do this. Sighing, I continue, “Mum found a boyfriend, a police officer who pulled her over for speeding, twice in one week if you can believe it.” I roll my eyes at the thought. “Anyway, they courted for a time, then he moved in with Gran, mum, and a six-year-old me.

He was nothing but kind to the three of us, buying gifts and taking us out to dinner. He was a stand-up officer, no one had a bad thing to say about him. Shortly after turning eleven, he was shot in the line of duty, nothing life threatening, but it did need him to be out of work for an extended time.”

I shift in my seat and look away from him, not able to watch as his face transform into disgust at my next statement.

Here it goes…

“Gran officially retired from being a music teacher, her and a few of her girlfriends planned trips to travel Europe, and if I was fine, they would continue on, traveling the world.” I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. I take a sip of my coffee, giving me little aid. He holds tightly to my hand. Can he sense the battle raging inside me?

“Take your time. I’m here to listen.”

He’s calm. Not for long, I fear.

“Isaac was not right after being shot, he spent more time at the pubs, showing up late or missing shifts at the station. Mum was never home, she had a great job at one of the top law firms, often working eighty-hour weeks. Gran left for a month-long trip to South Africa, left me alone, with Isaac. The night after she left, he came into my room, very much plastered. I thought he was just so pissed he forgot where his bedroom was. That is the first night he - did things, to me.”

His hand tightens almost painfully, his body tense, then a low growl escapes him, but he doesn’t speak, so I go on.

“The scars on my side, they account for every time he did it. He knew mum loved her job more than anything, so he got his pleasure from the only thing he could.”

“Motherfucker!” He growls.

Don’t look at him. Just get it out. Tell him.There is a tightness in my throat and it all but takes my voice, so I continue in a whisper.

“There came a time when I was thirteen, I was going to tell a teacher, my grades were declining, so I offered to stay for extra studies.” I chew my lip, “He knew I was desperate to tell someone, so he threatened to kill Gran next time she came home if I told anyone. My cat wasn’t so lucky.” Here come the tears. I let them fall, they needed to escape.

“Your mom was never there? How could she not know something was

going on? Fuck, does she not know her own daughter?” He let out a roar of a curse. I look at him finally, not seeing disgust, but rather tears streaming down his face. I study him a moment, waiting for it to morph into something else, but it didn’t, his stony mask is no more. He’s breaking down.

I shake my head as my only answer to his questions. The story mum and I are for different day.

“How did you get out?” His voice is pained.

I let out a sniffle and dropped my gaze once more, this part hurts worse than the years of torment I endured.

I swallow hard, “I was cramping really bad at school and went to use the lav. I knew something was wrong, the cramping wasn’t like anything I felt before. I made it no more than halfway when I collapsed onto the floor, out cold. I woke up in the hospital the following day with officers, doctors, mum, and Gran filling my room.” I don’t bother to wipe away my tears, this needs to be said.

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