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Her lips are turned down in a frown, and her eyes are filled with grief that she’s clearly trying to hide with a blank expression, although she’s not doing a very good job of it.
“What do you want, Rueben?” she asks, standing by the door.
“Can I come in?”
She remains standing for a moment as if to make up her mind and then nods, pushing the door wide open for me to come in.
“So, there was a bit of confusion during the conversation we just had,” I say, trying to feel her out.
“Confusion?” Her tone is incredulous. “I don’t believe I’m confused. If anything, I have finally begun to understand exactly what is happening here.”
“And what is that, if you don’t mind?”
She regards me in silence for a moment, and I can’t tell if she finds my question annoying and not worthy of an answer.
“You think you can get me to trust you by playing the heroes who saved me from impending torture, so I can tell you where the stash is.”
My lip quivers as it starts to turn up in a smile, but I hold back. The last thing I want is for her to think that I’m mocking her.
“I’m sorry if we've given you any reason to doubt our intentions, but that could not be any further from the truth. You were right to trust us,” I say, moving towards her.
She takes a step back and folds her arms in front of her chest. Her anger deflates, and in the time since she’s been here, it’s the first time I’ve seen that defeated look on her face.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore or who to trust. I’m glad that you saved me, but I've only known you for such a short time,and despite what I might have heard in that video, asking me to trust you blindly seems like a lot.” Her voice is raised slightly, showing her frustration.
I sigh, taking a seat on what used to be my bed. “You’re right. We're no better than strangers you've only just met. Perhaps if you get to know us better, it could help you to see that we're not the bad guys in all of this.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that’ll make it better. I already did my research on you guys after I found your names in Dad’s journal.”
I pause at that. I know that what she’s found could not be pretty. I can’t honestly tell her that she’s wrong about whatever conclusions she’s come to. I usually don't feel the need to explain myself, but somehow, I find myself wanting to tell her. “Your findings are not wrong, but there are things you don’t know.”
Despite herself, her eyes glow with curiosity, and I tap the space beside me for her to sit. She hesitates, but joins me.
“What could you possibly have to tell me that could change my mind about you?” she asks.
“I’m not trying to change your mind,” I explain. “I just want you to understand my reasons a little more.”
Amelia cocks her head to the side.
I sigh. This is not a story I enjoy talking about; however, if it’ll help her get to know and trust us better, then I must do what I can. Even if it’s just for her safety and nothing else.
The words clog my throat for a moment as I struggle to get past the first words that’ll open the dam that has been sealed shut for so long.
“You know…there’s a part of me that envies you…” I begin, chuckling slightly when her forehead scrunches in confusion.
“Even when I didn’t know Captain’s true identity, I used to think he’d make a great father. It was one of the reasons I respected him so much. Seeing you, and the way you feel about him, I can tell that I was right.” I smile.
Amelia purses her lips, her pupils moving to the side as though she’s wondering what I’m getting at.
“I didn’t have a father like Captain.” My face goes dark as I say those words.
Amelia flinches from the very clear change in my tone. She remains silent, although her eyes show her worry.
“My father was an alcoholic, putting it simply. He would come home drunk and hit my mother and sometimes me. When she was unable to hide me, he would kick me and take the switch or belt to me. Whatever his hands landed on was the weapon of choice, really.” My mind goes far away as I speak, back to a time when I was a weak little boy…before I became a sinner.
“I often begged my mother to run away, but she would shake her head in fear of him finding us and wreaking havoc. She also couldn’t leave the man she loved so much, even though only the memories of him remained.”
She leans in closer, enchanted by my story. I find myself drifting back to that fateful day.
