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She puts on a bright sunshiny face so she doesn’t have to feel whatever darkness is lurking in her past. I know she was new to this whole world, her shock at the fights made that clear. But trauma comes in all different shades and it doesn’t usually look the same. If she hadn’t fallen for those two blockheads, I never would have brought her into this.
She hums under her breath as she reaches into the freezer to pull out some ice cream. She hands me a pint and I pass over a spoon to her. We sit at the island facing each other, the only sounds between us the ice cream lids popping off.
I don’t say anything more as I watch her shove a huge bite into her mouth. I grin when she winces. Of course that was going to backfire. Brain freezes are no joke.
I let her have a moment and stay quiet the entire time she spazzes out and still when she doesn’t give me an answer and just starts eating her ice cream. I lift a brow as she sucks on her spoon.
She slowly pulls it out of her mouth, clearly debating how to put into words all the thoughts running through her mind.
“Honestly, I’m okay,” she finally answers. It’s a good answer, but why doesn’t it sound that way? She could tell me that she’s freaking out and slowly breaking because of all the darkness she’s now surrounded by. I would never judge her for that. How could I?
I’m not sure how it would feel to find out all of the people closest to you are deranged murderers. Okay, maybe we aren’t all deranged. Mikey and Ronan are pretty level headed. Well, Mikey is anyways.
“But what does that say about me?” She takes another bite of ice cream almost mournfully as she contemplates that question. She swallows and looks at me, a desperate pleading in her eyes that I can’t believe I’ve missed all this time.
“Why am I okay, Scar? It’s not normal for life to be filled with exploding buildings and my boyfriends climbing out of bed at all hours of the night to deal with dead bodies that my best friend keeps piling up. It’s not normal to have to train in self defense and weapons because of the people that surround us. I should be struggling to accept this. I should be breaking down at the blood on your hands. So how am I just okay?”
Hmm. I honestly don’t know. For as much as I love this girl across from me, I don’t know a whole lot about her past. I don’t know what broke her. I just recognize it in her eyes. Have always been able to see my broken pieces reflected in hers.
“Some people are just built differently,” I say carefully. “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, don’t know what you need to hear to feel as if you’re not a monster for loving who you do. What I do know is that normal is subjective. It’s also overrated.”
Such a cliche statement, but it couldn’t be more true. I see the tears brimming in her eyes and know she needs more. Needs to see why it’s easy to still love us, even if she will never be like us. Sure, I think she’s capable of killing someone in self defense. Most people are, even if they don’t realize that about themselves. Britt is strong, but she isn’t a killer.
She will never take an interest in going on runs with us. Disbanding human trafficking rings. Taking revenge. She won’t ever crave blood the way the rest of us do. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t found her place right beside us that do. I just need to help her see that too.
“You loved us before you knew about the literal skeletons in our closets,” I point out to begin. “You know our likes and dislikes, our fears and passions. You see us all as whole people.” That’s one of the biggest things I want to emphasize to her. It’s not just the blood on our hands that she sees when she looks at us.
“I don’t know your past, but I know you’ve been hurt. I’m guessing badly enough that it left a deep impression on you. Badly enough that it fundamentally changed pieces of who you are. We all have.”
I pause to let those words sink in first. The acknowledgment shines in her eyes as she reflects on whatever her past holds over her. Our pasts change the lenses we use to view the world around us. Not only does Britt see more than just the blood on our hands, she views the world through the lens her own trauma has created.
“You’re strong and you’re truly kind, Britt. You’re able to see the whole picture, see who we are at our cores. Not only that, but you empathize with the shit we’ve been through that turned us into who we are today. You may have taken a different route, have different needs to cope, but you can still respect the path our trauma set us down on.”
The tears start to spill over even as she struggles to fight them. Been there. I’ve learned sometimes you just have to let them rain down your face though. There’s no use in always being strong.
“Would you honestly feel the same about us if we were trafficking innocent girls?”
The look of horror on her face is enough to give me my answer. “Exactly. We are taught from a young age that murder is bad. It’s wrong. Criminals deserve to be in jail. To leave the justice to police and FBI. That’s what is quote unquote normal. What society has deemed as acceptable. Whatever did happen to you, I’m sure it left scars. Including one that runs deep. The one that made you realize that justice is overrated. That the police and government aren’t always looking out for you. That more often than not, things slip through the cracks. People, their so called justice, slips through the cracks.
“We are filling in those cracks. No, we aren’t doing it the way society has declared it should be done. But society can suck a dick. Cause you know what? Society also still victim blames, still perpetuates a rape culture. Still tries to treat women as if they are less. Society is run by a bunch of rich, white men with too much power and too big of heads. The exact corrupt assholes we take care of. So maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for not conforming to being normal.”
I’ve said it before, and I’ll probably say it a million more times. Being normal truly is overrated. Especially when you sit down and really think about it. I get up and put my ice cream away, giving her a moment to absorb what I’ve said so far.
“Those people who live and die by being normal are the same people who will have you believe that everything is black and white. That’s simply not true. There’re a thousand shades of gray in the middle. That’s where we live. In our own version of normal. With our own standards and morality. Our normal is full of family and love. Of laughter and loyalty. And yeah, it’s also made up of blood and chaos. Revenge and our own brand of justice. But we don’t spread evil for our own gratification. We may love the destruction we cause, but we are helping innocent people while we do. Getting thousands of people, including kids like Roe, out of bad situations. Saving them from certain death. The question shouldn’t be why are you okay with that, it should be why wouldn’t you be okay with that?”
She wipes her eyes, but I catch the way she flinches when I bring up Roe. She had probably made assumptions but none of us had ever confirmed that was where Roe came from. That we saved her from an eternal hell.
“We live in the shades of gray and that’s infinitely more complex and beautiful than the sheltered view of a black and white world.”
She looks down into her ice cream as if she will find the answers to the world written at the bottom. I guess it’s a better coping mechanism than the bottle of whiskey I’ve been known to use.
I leave her with her thoughts but stay close as I begin prepping food. It’s the middle of the night, but I know all the guys are going to be hungry when they get home. Especially since we are planning on seeing the kids tomorrow. I’ll try to get Britt to come with us. Seeing the kids we protect always helps put everything in a fresh perspective.
We don’t have to be a part of this world. We could walk away, do our best to shield them away from the horrors of life. The problem is, just because we put our blinders back on doesn’t stop the evil from being there. Doesn’t stop it from spreading.
Sure, it doesn’t have to be my job to try and save the world. But I need it as much as I need to breathe at this point. I don’t see how I could turn my back when I know I can save people. Not when my choices have brought Jade and Rowan into my life. Not when I know both of those girls would have been dead in a matter of years had we not found them. Every day after being abducted into a ring like that, you’re living on borrowed time. We gave them their lives back.
Britt stays quiet, just silently watching me as I work. The silence is heavy but not awkward. Just full of all the unspoken thoughts running through both of our heads. The memories flashing behind her eyes.
