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"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask her.
"We don't have to. I have no complaints if that's what you're worried about," she says.
"Good. You know your safe word applies to all of us, even in situations outside of the bedroom. I want you to feel at peace here." Those words are the truest words I've ever spoken. Her happiness has become something I've come to want over my own. It's an odd feeling for someone like me.
"Barrett?" Her eyes look a bit sad as she brings her hand to caress the side of my cheek.
"What do you need, princess?"
"If I wanted to leave, would you guys let me?"
I know this is something that she's been thinking about, but I don't know what the right answer is. Would we let her leave? I want to say yes if that’s what she truly wanted, but the monster in me says hell no, she's not going anywhere. I try my best to give her the most truthful answer I can.
"I don't know. We've gotten past the point where you’re a prisoner here if that's what you’re wondering. You’ve become so much more to us. We want you to stay at least until your father is takencare of, but once he's dead, that would fully be your choice whether to stay or leave. If it's up to me, I want you to stay." I hate the vulnerable feeling of that admission as I wait for her response. Her eyes flicker back and forth between mine, almost as if she is making sure I'm sincere. Another smile crosses her face and she leans up to kiss me softly on the lips. It's as if what I said to her was exactly what she needed to hear.
"Tell me something about you that I don't know," she says to me, and I know what she wants. She wants to see me, all of me.
I knew this time would come. There are very few people in this world who fully know me. To be exact, there are two of them, and they both live in this house. I take a deep breath, hoping this doesn't change her view of me. "My mom and stepdad died in a fire when I was young. It was the reason I ended up in foster care."
She looks at me, waiting to see if I’m going to continue before saying anything. I roll onto my back to look up at the ceiling.
"I was eight when my mom got married to my stepdad. He was the first real father figure I had in my life because my mom never knew who my real father was. She was a bit promiscuous when she ended up pregnant with me. Everything was normal for the first few months, and we felt like a real family. My mom started working late shifts and leaving me at home with Stan, my stepfather." I look over at her to see she is listening intently, and she brings her arm up to rest it on my chest as a sign of support.
"It started slowly. He would come into my room and make me change in front of him. A few weeks later, he was helping me change, andthere would be a stray touch here and there. A few weeks after that, he got the courage to take things further. He claimed he wanted to teach me about being a man and how our bodies worked. I was a kid. I didn't know it was wrong, so when I brought it up over dinner one night, my mom lost it on me. She told me that I shouldn't tell lies and that it was dangerous to talk about adults like that. She was never really a good mom to me like Ky and Seb had. She focused on the men coming in and out of our lives and always chose them over me."
"Barrett, I’m so sorry your mom didn't hear you." Her hand reaches up to caress my face and I place mine over hers.
"That night after dinner was the worst of them all. The things he did to me, I wanted to die. He was angry that I told my mom about what we did in our private time, and he wanted to make sure I knew the consequences if I ever told anyone again." I can tell my admission is breaking her heart. I don't want people to pity me. My life hasn't always been the best, but it was all part of the path that led me here with Seb and Ky, and I wouldn't change a single thing.
"He used me and left me there, crying and feeling ashamed for hours. When I had the courage to pick myself off the bed, there was blood everywhere. My little body was broken, Callie. Before I even realized what I was doing, I had gone into the kitchen, grabbed the matchbook from the drawer, and walked into their bedroom. I stood there, at the base of their bed, for a few minutes watching them sleep, feeling completely disgusted at my mother fortaking Stan's side and at Stan for using my body like that. I lit a match and tossed it right on their bed.”
She lets out an audible gasp, but I continue. “I'm not sure why my mother didn't wake up when the flames started to cover the mattress. Sometimes she took sleeping pills, and maybe that was one of those nights. Stan drank heavily, so he was likely blacked out from the alcohol, but neither one of them woke up. When the smoke got too heavy for me to breathe, I ran out of the house and stood on the street as I watched it burn to the ground. It was the middle of the night, so it took a while for someone to notice and call the police. I kept waiting for either of them to run out of the house, but they never did. Stan was a smoker, so the fire chief ruled the blaze accidental. They claimed he must've fallen asleep holding a cigarette since the fire started in bed. I didn't have any other living family. They took me right into state custody. I never told anyone it was really me who lit that fire until I met Sebastian and Kyler, and now you."
"Can I ask you a question?" I hear her say.
I nod, anxious to know what she thinks of this confession.
"Is that why you have panic attacks?" I can see the pained look in her eyes now that she knows the full truth of my upbringing.
"It is, well, was. I took back control of my narrative to keep them at bay. I've found a way to guide that pain into a different sensation. For a long time, I let what he did to me define me, but a therapist along the way recommended I try to channel my pain into something I love instead. I'm sure she meant maybe painting orart, but I chose sex. It's my own personal way of taking back control of my past."
She nods in understanding. This woman pushes me to want to be a better person every day. When we first brought her here, I never would've imagined being here at this moment telling her my darkest secret, but I want her to know me more than I've wanted anything before.
"Barrett," she whispers. I turn to face her, placing my hand on her hip and looking her in the eyes.
"Yeah, princess?"
"Thank you for telling me that. I’m so sorry that happened to you."
"I'm not. Everyone endures pain at some point in their lives, but my pain made me who I am today. It brought me to my brothers, and it brought me to you."
A tear slips and rolls down her cheek, and she turns away from me like she’s conflicted about being so vulnerable around me. I bring my hand up to swipe her face dry and then lift a finger to my mouth.
"Your tears are mine, Callie. You don't ever need to be afraid of having emotions around me."
"I feel things with you that I shouldn't be feeling Barrett. I don't know how to describe what is happening in the mess that is my brain."
She's struggling, and it's a familiar feeling. I have so many new emotions since being around her. I've never been the kind of person to openly share my life with others, but she bringsthat out of me. I want to find a way to reassure her that whatever she is feeling isn't wrong, so I do it the only way I can. I confess it all. I lay everything on the line and take the risk because, for the first time in a long time, there’s something I'm afraid of losing.
