AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Bree, you don’t have to do this.” Ant sits up, rocking back on his knees to face me.
“Yes, I do. You have to understand. You need to know everything.” I push off the bed and begin to slowly pace the small room, not sure how to proceed; knowing the worst is yet to come.
“He raped me countless times over the next several months. Hurt me in ways I didn’t know I could be hurt. I finally told my mom when the abuse reached a point I couldn’t tolerate. She called me a liar. Said I was an attention-seeking whore who would say or do anything if it meant someone would pay me any mind. I was her child.” I stop, turning to face Ant who has moved to the edge of the bed and is watching me like he’s not sure if he wants to hug me or run away from me.
“I was her only child, and she didn’t believe me. Who does that?” By this point my tears are coming harder now, flowing down my face in a steady stream that I don’t even try to control; there’s no use anyway. The floodgates are open, and I know that the emotion seeping out of me will just have to run its course.
“Tommy I hated. I hated him so much that when Brad came along a couple of years later, I clung to him like he was air in a room with no oxygen. He was nice to me, treated me better than any of the men before him, but like all the others I knew what he wanted. He wanted me.”
I pause, doing my best to keep my voice even.
“Brad started slow. He worked me up little by little, did his best to make me comfortable with what he wanted from me. I hated it. I hated being touched. I hated being forced. But I loved it all at the same time.” I can tell by the way Ant’s eyes go wide that he wasn’t expecting me to say that.
“I used to lay in bed at night, trying to convince myself I didn’t want him to come in. Most nights I’d pretend to be asleep when he entered my room. But as soon as he touched me I couldn’t deny him. I wanted him. I wanted him to make me feel good. What started out as sexual abuse quickly morphed into me having sex with my mother’s boyfriend and enjoying it. I craved it; even when it made me sick to my stomach I wanted it.”
“Bree.” Ant stands, running his hand through his hair on a long exhale.
“You get it, now don’t you?” I laugh bitterly. “You understand what I mean when I say I know what it feels like to hate someone so much and yet still love them. Because in some sick, twisted way I loved all those men—especially Brad. I loved that they wanted me, even in a way I didn’t want to be wanted. It meant I existed. It meant someone saw me. You want to know how fucked up something is; well how fucked up is that? I loved the men who abused and raped me. So much so that when it stopped, that when that feeling went away, I sought out the one person who could give me what I still craved.”
“Blake,” he says without question.
“Blake,” I confirm. “Of course, I didn’t know it at the time. I clung to him because he was the one guy who made it clear what he wanted—my body. And I was more than willing to let him have it any way he wanted.” I shake my head, realizing that all this sounds even worse when I say it out loud.
“The physical abuse started later. At first, I wanted it, craved it—loved that it made me feel whole again—like something was missing. But then it started escalating, and I quickly realized I had lost control of the situation. Even still, I couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t leave him. Because now he knew my secret. He knew my weakness. He knew me to my core, how sick and fucked up I was. I convinced myself I deserved it. I deserved the abuse for my past sins. For fucking my mother’s boyfriend when she was in the next room. For wishing he would fuck me again and again. I deserved to be beaten, to be punished, to be hated.”
“No, you didn’t.” Ant takes a step toward me.
I hold my hand up to stop his advances, not the least bit surprised when he instantly freezes in the middle of the floor and doesn’t take another step.
“When I got pregnant with Jackson, it was like a sign from above. I knew I needed to get out, if not for me then for my child. So I made arrangements with my grandparents and spent as little time at home with my drunk of a mother as I could until he was born. I still believed I was in the wrong, that this was all on me, but after I had Jackson I also realized that I was just a child. It took months in therapy to finally accept that what happened to me wasn’t my fault, and I’m still dealing with it, Ant. Every single day. I need you to understand it’s a part of me. This, this disgusting, sickening thing will always be a part of me. But it no longer defines me. Don’t let your father define you.” I take a step toward him, allowing him to pull me into his arms.
“There is nothing sick or disgusting about you, Bree Kingsley,” he says against my hair, squeezing me so tightly it would be painful if it didn’t feel so unbelievably good. “What you went through… My god, I had no idea.”
“How could you have known? I didn’t want anyone to know, least of all you.”
“No child should ever have to go through the things you’ve been through.” He pulls back, cupping my cheek.
“And no child should ever have to go through the things you’ve been through either, but it happened, and we are who we are because of it. I understand why you hate your father. I also understand why you love him,” I say, choking back the sob stuck in my throat.
“You’ve always understood me in a way no one else ever has.”
“Because I know you.”
Without a word, Ant leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers against my mouth before deepening the kiss, showing me without words that what I told him hasn’t changed us.
He’s doing what he always does—giving me reassurances without me ever having to ask. Because he too, understands me in a way that no one else ever has.
