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"My real father's friend." I've felt small before. Now, I feel as if I am under a microscope because I'm nothing more than a speck of dirt in a petri dish.
"Why?" His growl thunders over me, and my lower lip quivers.
"They were drunk." If only that were the whole truth. "My father passed out, or so I thought, while my mom was at work. Father's friend was over, and I walked in on him stealing from us."
Chris releases my hair and pulls me into his lap as he sits down. "Go on, little buttercup."
The way he says that makes me feel special, but I will not be foolish and believe he could ever think of me as anything but a burden. My mother insisted on having him monitor me. It's not unwarranted. Ever since my father's episode, she has been hypervigilant with me.
"When I tried to confront him, my father got up and tackled me to the ground. He yelled at me about how I shouldn't have come home. That if I had stayed at work, I wouldn't have to be punished." Those words still haunt me.
"He thought I was mom, and I didn't understand a damn thing he said. Why would mom have to stay away? Who was the guy if it wasn't a friend?" I look at him, hoping he understands what I'm talking about.
I don't like rehashing the next thing that happened, and I whimper, hiding my face into Chris's neck.
"Did they rape you?" His voice is low, like you'd speak to a spooked kitten or puppy, trying to coax them out of their shelter.
Closing my eyes, I count to five and take in a deep breath.It's all in the past, I tell myself. Getting the courage to look up from his neck, I tremble. "No. Not exactly. My father held me down as his friend demanded that he get me under control."
Sighing, I play with a button on his shirt. "The man cut my clothes off and something inside my father must have woken up because he told the man no." A sob escapes my throat, and Chris curls me into him.
"It's alright, Jasmine. Tell me what happened. Let it all out." His soft strokes against my back make me calm down enough to continue.
"He said not to touch me. He told the man I wasn’t a whore like my mother. His friend got really mad and punched father out. He came after me, but I had the sense to run. I was scared and didn't watch where I was going. I fell against one of the wall tables, which slowed me down because I tried to save mom's favorite vase. The man caught up to me and he stabbed me."
The memory assaults me, making me hiccup. "It wasn't the pain that was the worst thing. It was his body against mine on the wall. He sliced that knife across the entire width of my shoulders. I was lucky he didn't get it deep enough to sever my spine."
"As he took the knife away from my skin, he dropped it, and when unzipped his pants, I lost it." I'm whispering because I'm ashamed I hurt someone. "Since he was distracted, I pushed him. He took me with him, though. He ended up with a broken neck. I was luckier, but barely. I had a compound fracture in my ankle, a broken wrist, and I was bleeding out on the floor."
A small sniffle leaves me. "Mom came home to find me passed out on the floor next to a dead man, and my father was still in the office."
Chris makes circles along my skin, listening to me. He kisses my forehead and brings my wrist to his mouth. "Go on, little one."
"Mom was frantic, but I was barely there. I had lost too much blood from everything. When mom woke father up, he got pissed, then scared. He was screaming about how I fucked up the biggest thing in the world for his company. Mom went off on him, and they fought. I can still hear the screams and the gunshot, but I don't know what exactly happened."
"Fuck, Jasmine, what a mess." He holds me closer, and I sniffle again. He feels, at least at this moment, like peace.
"I woke up in the hospital about a week later and mom was charged with first degree murder, but David stepped in. He got the full story out of all of us and mom hasn't left his side since. That's been about four years now."
Showing him my tattoo, he chuckles. A real laugh from him and something inside of me bursts. I hug him. "I have not done my wrist yet because I don't know what to get. But the angel wings in flowers make me think of a good day."
I'm met with silence, which makes me feel self-conscious, and I look down.
"Has David ever touched you?"
My head pops up in shock. "No. Never. He's been very kind to me. It took a few years of therapy for me and mom to get where we are today. I got off easy. Mom still hasn't truly healed from everything."
"I see. Well, thank you for telling me, but that doesn't excuse your absences from work."
Glancing at Chris, I see he's calmed down marginally. There's a rage inside of him I don't quite get, but for once I'm not afraid.
"But you need direction more than punishment at the moment." He heaves a sigh as he pushes a hand through my hair. My mind and body light up at having direction. I follow the rules. It's been eating at me, not going into work, but I'm not sure I can handle being around Chris that much.
"What does that entail?"
He gives me a smile. A genuine smile that isn't filled with evilness. I swear my heart stops, then starts up again. This is dangerous. He needs to go back to his frowning face immediately.
"You will do everything I say. Check in with me and if you have plans to do anything or need something, you will get my permission first."
