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Smirk is more like it.
One that says “well-played asshole, but you haven’t seen how I throw down.”
Taking a few steps forward, I kick aside his makeshift stage and take my place in the center of the room. My back straightens to my full height, and I shrug off my blazer, allowing only my black lace camisole to stay on.
I toss my blazer toward the couch.
It lands right on the intended target’s lap.
Trent’s.
He is staring at me.
More like shooting daggers with his eyes.
He’s pissed by my outfit of choice.
The way his jaw is locked makes me want to laugh.
Allowing my brain to empty of all the BS, I think of everything I read this past month. I think of all the things I know about this household. About this man.
A man bitter and angry.
Hurt.
And probably lonely.
A little boy whose father probably wasn’t there for him.
A man who had no role model.
I think about it all, and finally, I open my mouth and speak.
As I do, I never tear my gaze from his.
“Carl Jung once said there is no coming to consciousness without pain. In life, the only true obstacle we face is ourselves. We must face our pain. Address our faults. Stop placing blame on others.” I stop, take a deep breath, and continue, “We must face our demons. Even if we know the process won’t be easy, we need to step forward from the shadows. The things that hurt us can also shape us into remarkable people. When I was a child, I was homeless . . .”
I then talk of forgiveness. Of strength. I talk of things I probably shouldn’t.
I speak from my soul. From my past. I say things that make me bleed. But when I do, I hold my head high and never break eye contact.
Not even when I want to.
Not even when his forehead pinches.
Not even when I steer the topic to fathers and sons.
Not even as he looks like he might kill me.
When I’m finished, I smile broadly, turn, and walk away. I head toward my room. Needing air. Needing to compose myself.
As strong as I appeared, this whole escapade has hurt me.
I didn’t just allow myself to feel for this man hell-bent on hurting me, but I also allowed myself to be a pawn again.
Because that’s what I am.
A piece to play with in his little twisted game of revenge on a man who is dead and no longer here to play.
