Page 90 of Bleeding Hearts

We lie there for maybe ten minutes, her lying on my chest, drawing circles with her fingers on my stomach, me brushing my fingers through her wet strands, a comfortable silence surrounding us.

“Before I start talking about this, I need you to promise me that you’ll stay calm. You’ll listen and hear everything I have to say. And you won’t do anything crazy or stupid once you know,” she says quietly, her voice breaking the silence.

“I promise,” I respond, feeling my muscles tense in anticipation.

“My father, Alexander, isn’t a good person. In fact, he’s an evil one.” She pauses. “When I was younger, I thought he was amazing. He carried the world on his shoulders, and I loved him more than my little heart could handle. The first time he hurt me, he pushed me down the stairs because I’d embarrassed him in front of his friends. I was six years old.”

I clench my fist that’s not holding her on the sheets, anger encompassing me as she speaks.

The thought of anyone hurting Demi makes me want to end them, but the thought that it was her father who hurt her makes it that much worse. I stay quiet, keeping my promise to listen to everything before I speak.

“He said it was an accident and at that age, I believed him. But then the accidents kept happening. And then, when I was eleven, he stopped caring enough to call them that. He owned up to hurting me, but only because I made him. It was my fault. The abuse continued until I was eighteen and he couldn’t control me anymore. I left and never looked back.”

I feel my heart crack inside my chest at the thought of what she went through at the hands of one of the people who was supposed to love her most.

“My mom never hurt me physically, but she stood by and turned a blind eye to the abuse I endured at my father’s hand. I don’t know what hurt more, the abuse or my mom letting it happen.”

“Fuck, Demi.” I squeeze her into me tighter. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone. I’m here for you now, in any way that I can be,” I say, trying my best to be supportive but also feeling helpless in the situation. “Have you ever thought about coming forward?” I ask hesitantly.

“It would be pointless now.” She shakes her head. “It was years ago. I have no proof, it’s his word against mine, and my mom will lie for him. It’s a losing battle.”

“Even so, if you ever want to try anyway. If you ever want someone to fight the losing battle with you, I’ll support you, Demi. And if you never want to say a word, I’ll support that too,” I say.

I hate that she’s right. That the justice system is created in a way that men like Alexander Rhodes are rarely held accountable for their actions.

I hate that he gets to walk away a free man while Demi has to live with the scars he left her with. The only way for her to fight him back is designed in a way that hardly benefits her.

“I know, Ash. Thank you.” She cuddles into me further.

“That day at King’s barbecue last September, you mentioned you’d seen your mom for the first time in a long time,” I say.

“Yeah, she’d reached out to me before, but for some reason, that day was the day I decided to agree to see her. I don’t even know why. I think part of me is still hoping that I can help her, that she’ll want to be helped. I was hoping I’d get there, and she’d apologize, tell me she loves me, and that she wanted to leave him.” She shakes her head. “Instead, she just told me I’d thrown my temper tantrum long enough and I was expected to be at my father’s sixtieth birthday party.”

“You told her no, right?” I ask quickly, worried she may have gone.

“Of course,” she says, easing my fears. “I walked out of the café and haven’t spoken to her since.” She pauses, chewing on her lip anxiously.

“It’s just hard for me to give up on her because even with everything she put me through, she’s still enduring his abuse. I got myself out of it, and she’s still stuck there dealing with it, even if it’s her choice to stay there. Maybe it makes me weak, but I can’t help wanting to help her.”

“Why would your kindness make you weak?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s one of the things my father drilled into me that stuck.” She shrugs.

“Ever since I was little, he always told me that I cared too much. I remember one year around Christmas I was out to dinner with him and my mother. There was a homeless man in the corner that we were passing by, and when I thought my parents weren’t looking, I stopped and gave him whatever cash I had on me. He was so thankful, Ash. I mean, he really looked like I had made his entire year. But turns out my father saw it and he beat me for it later that night. My father always viewed any act of kindness as a weakness, and in turn, I guess I started seeing myself as weak for it, as well.”

“Do you remember the tattoo you asked me about?” I ask, holding up the bleeding hearts tattoos on my wrist.

Their color in the sea of black ink, exactly the way I wanted it.

“Of course, bleeding hearts. It’s beautiful. What about it?” she asks, confused about where I’m going.

“They remind me of you, Demi. You have a bleeding heart, you’re overwhelmingly kind, but that’s not a weakness. It’s a strength, baby.” I sit up slightly, lifting her chin with my fingers so I can look her in the eye. “For years, I’ve been living selfishly, living life only with myself in mind because I was too scared to let anyone else in. Then I met you, the most selfless person I know, and you inspired me to be better. You looked at me like you believed I was capable of more and that made me want to be more.”

“You’re capable of anything and everything you set your mind to, Ash. You know I think you’re amazing.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

“I’m just trying to be half the person you are, Dem. That’s why I drew the bleeding hearts and inked them onto myself. They remind me of you and your kindness and how you inspire me each and every day. How much you care about others could never be a weakness. It’s what made me fall in love with you.” I reach down, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

“Thank you for being everything I always knew you were.” She reaches up, wrapping her arm around the back of my neck and bringing her lips to mine, kissing me softly. “Thank you for being my best friend.” She kisses me again. “Thank you for loving me.” She kisses me a third time.

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