Page 84 of Trove’s Purpose

“You owe me,” she said firmly.

He started in surprise. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” she held her head high. “I believe I deserve an explanation at least.”

He didn’t owe her anything. If he refused her, she couldn’t keep pressing. But she had to try. She needed to know…

Trove’s face fell and his head lowered. “You’re right. I do. I… I’ll tell you.”

He turned and began walking away. Chee followed right along. Fully expecting him to take her back to his room. But that’s not where they went.

Instead, he brought her to the spare room. Her room. It was brighter there. More open. Simple, but she had spread her stuff around so, at least in comparison to his, it looked lived in.

He led the way inside and went to lean against her desk. She followed and sat on the edge of her bed. The parallels to last night couldn’t be avoided. But his expression was so tightly closed now. In the brightness of the artificial lights, he was carefully guarded and hidden away.

For a long time, neither of them said anything. His jaw tightened, and she could see the fight in his eyes. The need to talk. The barrier that kept the words inside.

She knew that barrier. She knew that pain.

He couldn’t tell her. He would have already if his tongue was capable of loosening. Though he was trying, trying so hard she could see the strain of it in every tense muscle of his body, he couldn’t. The mental block was too strong.

So, she talked.

“You want to know how I got this scar?” She asked, touching her face.

He blinked, staring at her. Obviously confused about the sudden change in subject.

But she had broken this barrier long ago. She could talk about this easily. And maybe if she showed him her own broken barrier, she could help him through his own.

“I was little. Eleven, actually. Years old,” she clarified, resting her hands down in her lap. “I was a gangly little thing. Was just starting to hit my teenage growth spurt, but nothing was growing proportionally. All leg, my mom used to say. No hips yet. I miss those days. Oh well. Point is, I looked like an awkward, pre-teen, gangly limbed child. Cute, in the way kids are. Not at all a woman yet. No one ever should have looked at me like one. But my uncle did.”

Trove went entirely still. He wasn’t even breathing. She didn’t have to look away. She wasn’t ashamed of this story. She still felt the weight of it in her past, but it was a weight she knew she was strong enough to carry. One she knew she could bear, because she didn’t have to bear it alone. Because the proof of her strength was etched on her face.

“He was my dad’s brother. Blood brother. They loved each other so much. Raised together. Played together. Went to school together. They were as close as anything. He was always at our house. I don’t remember exactly how old I was when he started looking at me… different. I don’t remember the first time he put me on his lap and he was… excited about it. I remember the first time he touched me though. The first time I felt like it was wrong. Like this wasn’t how uncles were supposed to touch their nieces. I was nine. And I know now, but I didn’t know then, that he was grooming me. Training me to be receptive to him and not tell anyone about it.”

The memories weren’t good ones. She didn’t visit them often. So, it was always a wonder to her how sharp they were in her mind. How clear. She could still feel his hand, so big in comparison to her small body. Still smell his cologne, a scent that ostensibly was nice but seemed so rancid and cloying to her now.

The fear. The confusion. The strange feelings. The innocence of a child not tainted, but utilized like a weapon against her.

“Chee…” Trove whispered her name, horrified.

The return from her memories wasn’t a jarring one. And she could smile at him and mean it. This was all something she had come to terms with. And with that acceptance came the power to control them. It was priceless.

And something she wanted to share with him.

“He never managed to actually… you know. But he did rub himself against me to completion a few times. I remember being so scared. And confused when afterwards he would get me toys and treats and say that I was such a good girl. I knew it was wrong. But I didn’t know what to do. And I just couldn’t… talk. I couldn’t tell anyone. I tried. I remember looking at my parents as they made dinner or sat in front of me in the car and chatted, and I remember just yelling at myself. Telling myself over and over again to just say it. But I couldn’t. It was like my tongue locked up. Like I forgot how to use my own voice box. I was so messed up by what had happened, it was like trying to relive it, even just to talk, shut me down completely.”

Trove was staring at her now. A combination of anger and dawning understanding on his face. He knew what she was saying. He was hearing her tell him that she understood.

“I was at home one day. I got up late and went to make myself breakfast because I thought it was just me. I was making boiled eggs. I had water on the stove. It turns out dad had not gone to work that day and instead went to sleep with a headache. I didn’t know that. And neither did my uncle. He came over and he went to grab me. It might have happened that day. I was still silent as he touched me. I was crying. He was telling me it was okay. It would only hurt a little. He’d take me to get whatever I wanted afterwards.

“And maybe it was because I didn’t know he was home, but I could finally break through that lock on my tongue. I screamed for my dad. I screamed for my mom. I begged them for help. I didn’t think anyone was there. I didn’t think it would matter. No one can hear me scream. No one is going to help. So scream. It won’t matter.”

And Chee smiled. Because she loved this part.

“My dad loved his brother. But he loves me more. And I have never seen him like that. I’ve never seen him so angry. So powerful. He grabbed my uncle and threw him off me like he was nothing. I just remember him screaming. I remember him throwing the first punch. It was like watching a superhero in real life. But even better because it was my own dad.”

There was something so fiercely approving in Trove’s eyes. And she knew he wouldn’t judge her father for this. There were some that did. There were those that condemned him. Those that denounced him for what he did.