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Dear me,
Today I met the first person to actually see me.
We didn’t talk. In fact, at first he didn’t even acknowledge me.
But then Keene left him alone for a long moment, and I was able to make eye contact with him.
For the first time in my existence, I was able to breathe.
I don’t know what this means.
I don’t know where I go from here.
What I do know is…maybe death isn’t in the cards for me.
Still no love, but not quite as bleak as it once was,
Me.
That was a common theme in all of her entries.
The contemplation of suicide.
When I was younger, before my starry-eyed view of the world had been tarnished, I’d thought there was never a good enough reason to want to kill yourself.
Seriously, I was so naïve.
That was before I’d been ‘over there.’
Over there being overseas, in the most horrible of places, when women and children were treated so poorly that sometimes the only escape from their hostile realities was death.
Then there were the women in this nation that had been sold off to sex traffickers. Sometimes, they had no control, for so long, that giving them the guidance to control what did and didn’t happen in their life was all they needed. And if that happened to be them taking it? Well, then that’s what it needed to be.
But reading the atrocities that Ansel Singh had committed against Hades, who for all intents and purposes had been his daughter, I could see why she’d want that escape.
The threats had lessened as she’d grown older and could cope more safely with what life had given her. But they hadn’t completely slacked off.
It was quite humbling to know I’d given her that sense of ease with just meeting her.
It was the last entry, though, that had my entire heart realizing one absolute fact.
Dear future me,
It’s going to get better.
One day, you’ll think that you can’t do this anymore.
And the next day, you’ll find the man that makes your intrusive thoughts stop.
Just keep holding on.
Love, Me.
I took the last bite of my celery stick, then allowed the journal to fully close before getting up and washing my hands.
Knowing that Hades would be up any second to grab a snack of her own, I quickly dried my hands off then put her journal away.
I had a plan for that journal.
One she might not like.
But it had to be done.
I couldn’t leave her in limbo with her family.
And to do that, they all needed to understand.
They needed to know that she was the best person that they’d ever been handed, and they were throwing her away.
But in the meantime, I would soak in every single second with her, and bind her to me slowly and methodically, until she couldn’t ever see her life without me in it.
And then, I’d marry her.
I’d get her pregnant. I would be a great father with Hades at my side. She soothed something inside of me.
I’d make it to where she was so dependent on me, that she had no doubts, fears, or uncertainties in her life as to who she meant the world to.
After everything was stowed, I pulled out the leftover pizza from lunch and nuked a few pieces.
The last five nights, she’d gotten up around two for a snack. So I was assuming tonight would be the same.
If anything, she’d have some lukewarm pizza if she did wake up.
I heard a shuffling behind me before the microwave even beeped.
Turning to look over my shoulder, I watched as she slowly made her way toward me.
I pulled the pizza out of the microwave, then turned to survey the sleepy woman walking toward me looking so adorable.
I placed the plate on the counter, and like every other night since we’d started this routine, she face planted into my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist.
Years ago, when I entered the military, I was okay with physical touch.
But that slowly started to change.
Eventually, it got so bad that I didn’t even like my own brothers hugging me.
The women and children were okay—mostly—but there was something about having a person all up in my face that was the size of a full-grown male that I didn’t like.
I hadn’t liked hugs all that much in years.
But that was before I’d gotten one from Hades.
Now, I craved them like I craved my next breath.
When she wasn’t touching me in some way, I was bereft.
“You made pizza,” she muttered into my pecs. “Nutrition is very important to me, Mr. Peters.”
Nutrition my ass. The last thing that was important to her was nutrition.
I snorted. “Sure. That’s why we have the pizza in there in the first place, right, Ms. Singh?”
I felt the instant my words penetrated her sleepy brain. And I disliked it immensely.
She sighed. “I hate my last name.”
I’ll give you a new one. Right fucking now.
