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When I spot my father and his waiting vehicle, I walk toward it, feeling all sorts of apprehension. That brings me to why I was behind bars in the first place.
After getting involved with drugs, I lost my fucking mind. Long story short, I kidnapped and attempted to rape my childhood best friend, also my dad’s girlfriend at the time, now his wife. Mercy cried, screamed, and begged me to let her go. I didn’t. The only thing that stopped the rape from happening was my father and Mercy’s dad walking in on me with my dick in my hand, ready to fuck her against her will.
Yeah, I know. Drugs or not, I’m a real piece of shit. For some reason, I’ll never understand. They both have forgiven me over the years. It’s nice and all, but there’s one person whose forgiveness I’ll never earn. Me. What I did is unforgivable. There is no amount of amends I can ever make to fix the damage I did. However, I'm stuck staying with them since the judge ordered me to stay there for ninety days. Under normal circumstances a criminal wouldn’t be ordered to live in their victim’s house. Just the opposite. Since I don’t have much family to speak of, it was allowed after the judge had extensive conversations with Mercy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. It’s just that it’s uncomfortable.What I did to her was vile and disgusting. It was pure evil. I cannot for the life of me fathom how she can even entertain the idea of sleeping in the same house as me.
I wonder every time I see them if they are remembering that day. They adopted a little girl shortly after I was arrested to make matters more complicated. I’ve never met her since she refused to come to visit me in prison when Mercy and Dad came. I’m unsure if it’s because she hates me for what I did to her mom or if she simply has no interest. She won’t have much choice today since my dad has ordered us both to a family lunch. According to my dad she’s going through a ‘tough time.’ For the last few years it has sounded like this tough time has lasted a long time. It would be an understatement to say I’m not looking forward to it. I’d rather have my teeth pulled with pliers.
When I reach the vehicle, my dad comes around to me, giving me a one-armed hug and slapping me on the back.
“Good to see you, son.”
“Thanks dad.”
After we both get into the vehicle, he starts driving.
“I found a meeting for you close to the house. They have meetings there every day except Sundays. It’s at the church, about ten minutes from us.”
I don’t respond, only nodding in agreement. I glance at him and notice him clenching his jaw.
“If you are going to be under my roof, you will continue going to meetings, Nash. This is not open for debate.”
That pisses me off. I don’t like it when he treats me like a kid. I’m thirty-eight years old and have spent the last fifteen years attending meetings. Does he really think I’m stupid enough to stop going?
“I’m not a kid. I will keep going to meetings, not because you tell me to, but because I need it. I won’t ever stop going.”
He reaches out and touches my shoulder as he pulls onto the highway, “I’m proud of you, son.”
During a visit about three years ago, he told me he forgave me, but I don’t think that’s the truth. I know if the roles were reversed, he’d be dead to me. If I know Mercy at all, she’s the reason he’s willing to give me another chance. She has a heart of gold. It’s probably why I thought I was in love with her way back then. It’s impossible not to like her. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t in love with her. I was very confused. I do care about her a great deal. I always have, and I always will. I am concerned about living with her. Will she be afraid of me? I hope not because I’d never hurt her again.I’m not the man I was fifteen years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a good guy either. But I’m not a fucking rapist.
My chest is tight as we pull into the driveway of my childhood home. The last time I was here was the day I assaulted and kidnapped Mercy. I live in regret. My therapist says I force myself to drown in guilt on a daily basis.Forgive yourself, he frequently says. But I can’t. Guilt and shame consume me.
My Dad glances over at me, “Come on, son. Let’s just rip theband-aidoff. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can be comfortable here.”
After my grandparents died, I was left with a large inheritance. Lack of money isn’t why I have to stay with them. It’s part of the terms of my release. If, in ninety days, I can pass a piss test, I can move out, and trust me, I will. I take a deep breath and open the door to the vehicle.
We walk in to find Mercy cleaning in the kitchen, and I spot Ivy for five seconds before she darts to her room, but not before she glares at me like I’m Satan himself.Well, this should be fun.
Mercy tosses the hand towel she’s holding onto the kitchen counter. She makes her way to me, full of smiles, as she throws her arms around me, “Welcome home, Nash.”
My dad watches us like a hawk. His expression says,mine, mine, mine.Yes, Dad, I know, she’s yours.
“Let me show you to your room,” he says.
Mercy releases me with another smile. Does she not fucking remember what I did to her? She acts like she doesn’t, but surely, she must.
I nod silently and follow my dad. As we approach the hallway, I hear music blasting through the walls, and IWant Outby Lowborn nearly shakes the walls. He points to a room, “This is yours. The one with the music is Ivy’s. Ours is well, you remember where the master is. We weren’t sure where you’d be most comfortable, so the pool house is set up for you as well. You can decide where you’d rather stay.”
We stand in the room for several minutes of uncomfortable silence before he finally turns to leave, “I’ll let you get settled then.”
I notice clothes in the closet, my size. While I’m pleased to have clothes to wear, it adds to the mountain of guilt. They shouldn’t have to do any of this shit for me after what I’ve done.
I grab a T-shirt, a black pair of jeans, and boxers before I head to take my first unsupervised shower in fifteen years. Trust me, kids, you don’t want to go to prison. There’s no privacy, no choices. You don’t get to take a shower when you feel like it. Everything is dictated on the guards' terms. And the whole ‘don’t drop the soap’thing? Yeah, that’s a real threat. I walk into the bathroom, and the memories flood me. The shower curtain is a deep purple. Back when I was a young boy and innocent, it was ninja turtles. I wanted to be Donatello when I grew up. A time when I didn’t know my life would go so far off the rails, I’d nearly burn it to the ground.
I stand in the shower letting the water cleanse my soul when there’s obnoxious banging on the door. One you’d expect to be followed by ‘police, open up’, “Hey, asshole we share this bathroom. Hurry the hell up!”
It’s got to be Ivy because it’s not Mercy. Their other kids, River and Riley, are away at some kind of camp. I don’t respond, but I rinse, get out, and dry off before getting dressed.
My hair is wet, but I won’t fight with the Ice Princess on day one. I open the door to find her standing with her arms across her chest.
