Page 141 of Taint My Soul

“Nothing to be sorry for, baby.” I affirm. “Your tears are my tears, darling.” He flushes again. His face softens, his shoulders relaxing as his smile widens, and his hands circle my shoulders possessively. He leans closer and presses kisses over and over on my head. I giggle and wriggle against his arm whilst he keeps me steady against his body.

I never want this to end.

We don’t move for the rest of the evening. Not until we both had to go downstairs and make dinner together, then eat under the low, cool amber light in the dining room with scented candles billowing in the air, and the flowers I bought the other night in the center of the table. And through it all, I’m glad that I have him by my side. I’m glad I was brave enough to open up to him. I told him I needed help because not everyone meets someone who’s there for them. I’m glad that I have Saint King, and I’ll forever be.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

ELIO

Saint enters the living room on a sunny Thursday afternoon with a glass of water for Dr. Khadija. She’d just arrived about ten minutes ago, and we were both getting ready to start our session today. She pulls her notebook from her brown messenger bag and sets her timer, placing the phone on the side stool.

I knot my hands together, somewhat nervous about this session, but I have had the time to speak with Saint about how I’ve been feeling, and he’s really been a great listener.

Dr. Khadija looks at me and smiles before she gestures toward me. “Would you like to stand? I don’t mind.”

I press my lips into a thin line and get on my feet, pacing the living room in quick strides. I take in deep breaths, my shoulders rising, chest heaving as I try to calm myself. I focus on the things around me.

The new art painting on the wall. Cross had gotten it for his brother after attending an art fair in the city yesterday. He didn’t stay long at the apartment, but we got to speak about his interest in the arts.

The thought of that evens out my heartbeat, and my lips curl into a proud smile as I settle down on the couch.

“Good work.” She compliments.

Saint stands in the kitchen making lunch, and I’m so eager to see what he comes up with. He’s not exactly perfect at making meals, but I really appreciated his dedication, especially to me.

“Do you want to start today?” She asks calmly.

“Yeah.” I nod sternly. “It’s been a great week. I have not thought about hurting myself, and my bullet wound is healing really well.”

“Hmm,” she scribbles in her notes. “In our last session, you mentioned that your uncle killed your parents…”

“Yes, I wasn’t aware until that night. He’d kept that secret from me for the past seventeen years.”

“And how did you feel about it?”

“Horrified. Furious.”

“Even as he came to the house.”

“Yeah, I had to sit with that feeling all on my own, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought maybe all those years of maltreatment from him could have stemmed from his guilt, but coming to the house to show me his scars isn’t the first time he’s enforced that dynamic.”

“What dynamic?”

“He comes home furious and perturbed. He takes out his frustration on me. I knew in that moment he would hurt me from the punishment he’d gotten from those morons.”

“Was that enough to make you want to defend yourself?”

“No, I didn’t want to. I just wanted to get away from him. I stood up to him one time and narrowly escaped with my life.” My hands move over the blotched circles around my neck. “But when he pinned me to the ground and strangled me, I knew I had to fight back.”

“You were defending yourself, Elio. If the roles were reversed…”

“He’d be halfway across the country, and I would be dead.” I knew that. I knew that if I had died that night, he wouldn’t have even done the honor of burying me. He would have left me there to bleed out on the ground and taken to his heels. But my mind keeps replaying his gurgled words in my head. You are. Monster. Reminding me that I had let the ugliness boil over instead of keeping it at bay like I always have.

Dr. Khadija doesn’t miss the look of confusion on my features. She waits for me to open up to her.

“He said I was a monster.”

“But you’re not. As a child, you interpreted the emotions you felt the same way he treated you. You thought if you slam a door or worse, get into a fight, you’d lose it and do something you can’t get back from. That’s not the case. He would have killed you, and just because you retaliated in defense doesn’t mean you’re like him. You’ve had to put up with years of his abuse. That’s enough to make someone break.” She leans forward and watches me intently. “I need you to define who you are to yourself. Not what he sees you as. Not what you grew up seeing. He’s dead. He doesn’t have any power over you.”