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She laughs, and I swear I have died and gone to heaven. I’m balls deep inside her in our home we recently purchased while she is carefree. Yeah, it doesn’t get any better.
The hold of the past was left in Detroit. The cycle of abuse ends there. We both agreed we would start fresh with each other and not let the past define our future.
I used my paid leave from the city to put my condo on the market. I declined the first offer since I’m pretty sure my father was behind it. When multiple offers started coming in, the place actually got into a bidding war that earned me ten thousand over my asking price.
Since Lorraine and I have no ties to Detroit anymore, and she wanted a chance with her grandparents, we made the move to Florida. They live in Deltona, which isn’t too far away. Using the money from the sale of my place, we put a nice down payment on our new construction, four-bedroom, three-bathroom house with a pool. We had been staying in a studio apartment until we could get into this place. Home sweet fucking home.
I scored a job with the contractor who built the home. There is nothing more satisfying for me than to see something come together from the ground up by my hands. It’s rewarding. I have never been afraid of hard work. With Lo by my side, I’m even more determined to make it my way this time.
Lorraine had to have her nursing license approved from Detroit to Florida, which took some time and a test, but she is certified here now. She also found a job at a pediatric doctor’s office, so no more night shifts, twelve-hour shifts, or weekend work.
We both leave early in the morning and come home to have our dinner together before going to bed and repeating the same thing the next day. There is calmness in having a routine. More than that, there is calmness in knowing Lo is with me through everything.
I slide into her as I find my release. “You are home, Lo.”
She looks up at me, her angel blue eyes finding their way to lock onto my green ones. She wraps her arms around me tightly and says, “As long as I’m with you, I’m always home.”
Home.
How could a word with only four letters mean more than anything one could ever have imagined? It’s more than a house, more than four walls, more than a place to hang your hat.
Home.
If you asked me four years ago what home was, I would have shuddered at the thought of it. My home—the place I was raised, loved, nurtured, belonged—became my hell. Not only did I accept it, but I embraced it. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be in a world that my family was not. I couldn’t be anywhere else, either. Not until I brought their killer to justice.
Hate and fear overtook my heart. The only time I felt like it was still beating was while at work, because I felt needed. I felt like I could do something that mattered. I felt like I could save people.
I am graced with Jason’s laugh, with his dimple, his love, and his touch every day. I give it back to him without question.
Jason, the man who told me he was bad, is far from it. He is my hero, my savior, my love, and now my home.
In his arms, I am safe. His past is just that. He is no monster—not in the dark, not in the light. He was raised in a way that it would be expected, but he was stronger than his past. He broke those chains. No, he shattered them, and then he helped me. No, he forced me to do the same.
We were both damaged. We are no more. We have scars and memories that will fade in time and the light. No more hiding in the darkness.
No more.
We now live.
I stand in the bathroom at the pediatric office where I now work in always sunny Florida. Jason suggested I work somewhere where death is not inevitable but where life surrounds me.
There is a knock on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?” It is Dr. Laura.
I open the door and smile as I walk out. “I am great, actually.”
“You sure? Sometimes, news like this can be overwhelming.” She gives me a shoulder hug as we walk past reception, and I realize everyone has gone for the day.
“I’m sorry I held you up,” I tell her, grabbing my coat and purse.
“No hold up at all.” She hands me a paper bag as we walk toward the door leading outside. “Have a great weekend.”
I pull into the garage where Jason is pacing. I know he worries when I am even a few minutes late, even if he doesn’t want to. It’s not going to change anytime soon, especially now.
