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For those few weeks, this had felt more like home than anywhere else.
As I watched, enraptured, two figures meandered out of the surrounding forest. The young girl was wearing a hat that I knew belonged to the boy. His own brown hair, longer than hers, was intricately plaited away from his face.
Younger me and younger Ducky.
Both of our cheeks were red from the cold, but identical smiles brightened our faces. I remembered that time. A time when I was so happy it didn’t seem real. A time when I didn’t feel the need to succumb to the pain that threatened to drown me.
Staring at her heart-shaped face, I couldn’t help but note the three facets of my character. The golden girl, groomed by my parents to be the epitome of perfection. The innocent girl, naive to the horrors this world had to offer and still holding on to hope that she would get a happy ending. And, finally, the woman I had become. The woman desperately, probably irrationally, in love with seven men. The woman whose strength was unparalleled to the two pathetic girls before her.
For the first time in forever, I was proud of myself. There were so many trials I had faced, so many monsters I had fought, that at one point might’ve had the power to tear me down. But I was so much stronger because of them. Better.
Elegant Adelaide released a heavy, wistful sigh.
“Do you remember being that happy?” she asked softly. Her eyes were trained on the two children now entering the desolate house. Ducky held Young Addie’s hand as if it was his lifeline.
Had he known how much I depended on him? He was wrong when he called me the sun. I wasn’t. Not really. I was a darkness tarnishing everything in my path, but I relied on his light almost religiously. With him, I shone.
And damn, if I didn’t sound like a cliché.
Compelled by an undefinable force, I followed Ducky and Younger Addie into the house, ignoring the other me’s question as she had mine.
The inside was just as bad, if not worse, than the outside. The walls appeared to have crumbled years ago, cobwebs now decorating the banister and corners. Mildew and mold had corroded away what little remained of the wood. Floorboards, sporadically placed beneath my feet, were rotten. In some spots, they had completely deteriorated with age. The stench of stale water from leaking pipes and years-old mold assaulted my senses.
All in all, it wasn’t the safest place for two ten-year old kids to venture into, but it was all we had. Alltheyhad.
Surprisingly - or perhaps unsurprisingly - I struggled to identify with the little girl currently skipping towards the dusty couch. I couldn’t find it within me to connect my historical identity with my current one. We were two separate individuals.
That girl wasn’t aware of the darkness she carried. The darkness she craved.
In time, she would figure it out. It would take unbearable loss and helplessness before she recognized the seductive pulls of darkness, but she would. Of that, I was certain.
“You sure you’re okay?” Ducky asked, kneeling beside her. My nose scrunched in disgust as I noticed the grit and other unsavory substances staining his knees.
Younger Addie began to tremble, eyes down-cast. Her palpable fear polluted my lungs.
“No,” she admitted, resigned. She glanced up at him from beneath her fringe of dark lashes. “I just don’t understand why they hate me. Aren’t parents supposed to love their children?”
I remembered this moment somewhat vividly. It was only hours after D.O.D had slapped me. Compared to some of the other beatings I had taken and endured with a smile, this one was tame. Unfortunately, it left a nasty bruise on my cheek in the shape of a hand. Ducky had noticed it almost immediately.
Of course, he hadn’t known - or even suspected - the extent of the abuse. I instead made it sound as if it was a one time thing. A drunken fit. After arguing with him profusely, he agreed not to tell anyone. Hell, if I remembered correctly, we had even made a blood bond for secrecy. Nothing was more sacred than the blood bond between two ten-year olds.
“I understand,” Ducky snorted in response to Younger Addie. “My own parents hate me.”
“Rick and Matilda?” I had met his parents once before, and they seemed to adore Ducky. Showering him with affection. Baking cookies for him after school like the stereotypical suburban white mom. Watching football games on the couch. I had been immensely jealous when I had seen the bond between the three of them.
Younger Addie had a similarly perplexed expression on her face.
“No, not my adoptive parents. My birth ones,” Ducky amended, and Younger Addie leaned forward eagerly. It was very rare for him to talk about his life before he was adopted, and she eagerly grasped onto every fragmented piece he offered up about his past.
Though I already knew what he was going to say, I still leaned forward as well. Only Bitch Me didn’t react, her expression impassive.
“My dad beat me all the time. Beat my mom. Killed my sister.” He spoke without any inflection. Facts. I knew it was a mechanism he had adapted long ago in order to survive. Conceal your emotions. Put on a front.
God, I had completely forgotten about that. About him. About this moment. About this life-altering confession he had so carelessly admitted.
It was the one and only time he had ever mentioned it. Conversation steered away from depressing topics about abusive parents and into more fun territory. Namely, a cat Younger Addie wanted to adopt.
Was I really so self-absorbed that I had repressed this memory? This confession? Was it because I didn’t want to deal with his pain along with my own? I couldn’t answer that question nor did I necessarily want to. All I knew for certain was that the memory hit me like a stack of bricks.
