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“And I’d happily let you do it if I fucked up again, but I won’t.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes, and once again, he waves his hand forward, a mock of impatience following his movement. I stand tall and climb the steps walking right past him, and into the house. Bel lets out a sigh of relief, and I give her a smile in return. The last thing I want to do is fight with Sebastian, but I’ll cross any bridge and break any rule to keep Bel in my life.
“Let’s go upstairs and talk,” Bel says.
I nod, following her when she swivels around and heads for the stairs. I try not to watch her perfect ass as she walks up the steps, but depriving myself of her is killing me slowly. My cock is as stiff as a board, and I have to remind myself that I came here to talk to her, not fuck her.
At the top of the stairs is a long hall, and we walk until we reach her room. She has no idea that I know exactly where I’m going, and that I spent one too many nights in this house, hiding from my father’s rage. Once inside, she plops down on the bed and shifts her feet up to sit cross-legged.
"He shouldn’t have threatened you like that. I don’t know what’s going on. He's worried about stuff, things he's not telling me, and then you saw what happened at the party." Bel frowns.
I nod. "Yeah, that’s his MO. When things get tough, he prefers to lock down and turn in on himself. Not that we’ve been talking a lot or even close as of lately, so I wouldn’t have a clue what is going on in his head, but I can guarantee it has nothing to do with you if that’s what you were thinking?”
She shakes her head. “No, I just worry about him. Taking over the family business isn’t easy I assume, and he doesn’t share anything with me about it. Only what I need to know. I think he’s trying to protect me, to limit my association with the bad. I don’t know.”
Her concern and love for Seb makes me rage with jealousy, but it also makes my heart swell. I hate the idea of having to share her with her brother, but it can’t be helped. If she loves him, then she does, and I’ll do anything to keep her happy.
Even share her with my best friend, who currently hates me.
“If it helps, you’re the first person in his life who he seems to give a shit about. The one person he seems to care for other than himself, and that’s saying a lot because Sebastian can be one selfish prick when the occasion calls for it.”
“I know someone else who can be rather selfish too.” Bel looks up at me, her green eyes twinkling. Fuck, I swear I come in my pants a little bit. “Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" Her voice is soft. "Must be serious if you came through the front door instead of sneaking through the window.”
I unbutton the top button on my shirt and lean forward to brace my elbows on my knees. Talking about this is necessary, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.
“As you know, my father is a grade A asshole."
She huffs. "Tell me something I don’t know."
I let out a long exhale and stare at my shoes, the serious turn of this conversation makes me unable to look at her. "No, I really mean it. He's really an asshole. I don't even know when the beatings started. When I think back on things, I can’t remember a time when he didn’t hit me. One day, he shucked me off to the nanny, and the next, he had all these expectations I suddenly didn't live up to."
Her hand glides down my back. "It's okay, Drew...you don't have to do this. We don’t have to talk about this."
I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. "That’s the problem here, Flower. We do. I have to do this, release the demons and the pain. I have to try to heal the fucking wounds if we are ever going to get past everything. If you are ever going to truly forgive me."
Fuck. I thought I could do this, but I don't know if I can. I don't want her to see this side of me, to know the terrible details, but here’s no way around this. In order to let go of the past, I have to reveal it, and I’m ready to let go. I shudder out another breath and shrug off her touch. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her flinch and I can feel the shard of glass entering my skin again from that single look.
Reaching for her, I cup her cheek gently in my hand and scan her face, hoping she can understand. "It's not you. I-you can't touch me while I talk about this stuff. The mere thought of what he did to me, and put me through…” I grit my teeth, and my soft grip turns harsh on her cheek. I drop my hand and turn away before continuing. “The memories are strong enough to make me lash out, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t bother looking at her as I speak. I’m not sure I could stomach it. The pity, and despair, or maybe even disgust that she’ll soon wear on her face.
“I think I was five when he first started hitting me. It was for little things at first, like if I failed to listen to what he said or didn’t do something perfectly. As I got older, the beatings evolved into something else. They became more frequent and more violent. He went from hitting me with his hands to kicking me. There were even times I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was in the same spot with my blood all over the floor. I learned really fucking quickly that if I wanted to survive I needed to do every single thing he told me to. I went where he told me. I was the best at anything he named. He used me in any way he possibly could to get ahead in business, with friends, colleagues. I was his punching bag and his one-way ticket to all the money in the world.” I grit through my teeth, my anger bubbling so close to the surface. I want to give into the burn of it, to let it wash over me, but I can’t. I can’t let it rule me anymore. I can’t let him rule me.
“At the party, when you saw me with that girl. It wasn’t because I wanted to be with her. It wasn’t because I chose her. It was on his order. It was follow the order or get beat. When you walked into that kitchen and witnessed what he was doing, when you saw what he was doing to me. I…” My heart clenches inside my chest, and I swear I feel what it’s like for the first time then to care for something more than you care for yourself. “I was afraid of what he would do to you. I was afraid that he would realize how much I cared about you and use you against me. All I could think about was protecting you, getting you out of that room as fast as I could so he didn’t get his slimy hands on you.” I growl the last few words, the reminder of that day imprinted on my mind. “It didn’t matter though because one second is all it took for him to realize you meant something to me. That’s when his motive changed. He wanted to use you to hurt me and I knew I’d rather die than let him get his hands on you, so I did the only thing I could think of. I choose to hurt you myself. I choose to be the villain. I knew that each word I spoke would hurt you, but it would still be better than if my father got ahold of you.”
The sound of sniffling reaches my subconscious, and I look up, glancing at Bel over my shoulder. The anguish pinching her delicate features slams into me like a Mack truck. Tears slide down her cheeks, her makeup is ruined, and her cheeks are flushed. I’m tempted to reach for her, to soothe her, and erase the hurt and pity she must be feeling, but I can’t. I’m not done yet.
“My father did everything he could to ensure he maintained control over me. As I got older, he realized his beatings no longer held the same power as they had before. I’d become accustomed to the abuse, and in many ways when he hit me it no longer hurt.
Yes, there would be bruises, and evidence, but I didn’t really feel any of it. I’d go into this dark place in my mind where he couldn’t touch me, where his abuse didn’t hurt me. In that place, no one could reach me. When he realized that, his motives changed, and he started using other, more creative ways to control me. He threatened to toss me out on my ass and cut me off, not understanding that I didn’t really give a fuck anyway.
As my mother’s condition worsened, he started holding her over my head. He told me he’d stop offering her pain meds and make certain she suffered if I didn’t do exactly what he told me to.” I grit my teeth, the shame and guilt resonating through me. I’d always felt strong, above my peers, but I was nothing but a lost little boy when it came to my father. Forever trapped by him.
“That’s where he got me. The thought of her suffering because of me. I couldn’t handle it. She didn’t deserve that. And then you came along, and well, I didn’t want to hurt you, ever. I couldn’t imagine letting him use you to control me either.”
In a flash, she’s climbing onto my lap, wrapping her legs around me, while snaking her arms around my neck at the same time. She clutches onto me tightly, burying her face against my chest.
Her touch burns me to ash. I want to let her heal me, and mend all the ugly, dirty pieces of my disgraced soul back together again, but this isn’t my flower's weight to carry.
