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I woke up in the hospital where a nice lady told me that the bad man was gone. Sadly, the scars from that night will remain with me forever. He whipped me so hard he tore the skin off my back and behind. I don’t know how many stitches I got to piece me back together again. But it was enough to leave me looking like this.” I gesture to my body, not hiding my disgust. “Not long after, Simon and Maggie came into my world, saving me from becoming another statistic.
“I’ve been keeping journals ever since. Obviously, when I was too young to write, I relied on drawing to express my sadness and fears. Maggie and Simon were told what had happened and Mom recognized my pictures as a form of therapy. She kept every one. And I’m glad she did. I went to therapy when I was old enough to talk about what had happened. That’s when I began writing in my journals.”
Saxon nods, appreciating their significance.
“On my eighteenth birthday, I burned that bear. I know it was kind of morbid me holding onto it, but he was a reminder of who I once was, and who I was now. My childhood wasn’t easy, but I’m not a victim. Not anymore. And I’ll be damned if I stand by and let another human being be treated the way I was.”
“So that’s why you do what you do,” Saxon says in sudden understanding.
“Yes. I fight in the name of the four-year-old me. I was silent, but not anymore. Every time I help someone, I’m taking back a small piece of me. So you see, we’ve both got scars. My perfect life isn’t so perfect after all,” I say, referring to his comment at the hospital.
He turns his cheek, ashamed. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t know.”
For once, I’m the one who comforts him, and it feels nice. After revealing my vulnerabilities, I feel strong. “Sshh, there’s no need for you to be sorry.”
The room is silent, heavy with emotion. It’s a feeling I’m all too used to when I dig up the ghosts of my pasts.
“I’m going to find that motherfucker…and kill him.” The anger behind Saxon’s promise displays that he’s not joking.
His response is so different than Samuel’s. Sam was understanding, and sorry for what had happened, but Saxon has launched into full-blown protection mode. He looks like he’s about to jump on his Harley and ride to Hollywood and kill Nigel with his bare hands.
“He already did it for you. Well, a twenty gauge shotgun did,” I say, revealing that Nigel took his own life. His clenched jaw whines in anger.
“I didn’t tell you this expecting you to avenge my childhood, or for you to look at me differently. I told you because I…trust you, Saxon. I want you to know all there is to me, and I hope one day, you’ll feel the same.”
I know he too has skeletons in his closet, ones I hope he feels comfortable to release one day. But not today because suddenly, I’m dog tired.
“Thank you for listening to my story.”
His face softens. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
A yawn escapes me and my eyes begin to droop shut. Saxon pulls back the woolen blanket on the bed. White sheets have never looked more comforting and my body sings in ecstasy when I slip inside. Saxon draws the blanket over me while I sigh, never feeling more at peace.
I’m not sure how long later, but the mattress dips besides me. I instantly let out a low hum, feeling safe and at home with Saxon by my side.
Caught between reality and the dream world, I whisper my fears aloud.
“Will you take care of me?”
His heavy breathing fills the night air.
“Yes,” he replies after a drawn-out silence.
“You promise?” I know this can’t last forever, and I’m afraid.
He counters with so much emotion, his sincerity brings tears to my eyes. “Yes, I promise.”
“For how long?”
Pause… “For as long as you want me to.”
As I fall into a deep sleep, the word “forever” replaces goodnight.
Sixteen
I wake, almost certain I’vebeen run over by a steam train. Twice.
I know it’s bright out, and that fact has me turning into my delectable smelling pillow. When my pillow begins breathing, however, I know I’ve missed the memo.
