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“No.” Oli firmly says. “Don’t say that. You wouldn’t have wanted that on your conscience. Not after what we all survived.”
“I know you’re right, but I feel dirty. I showered three times this morning. Scrubbed at my skin until it turned red. That bitch used me. All this time, she was using me. But for what?”
“Maybe you should ask her,” Oli answers.
“I have nothing to say to her.” That’s not entirely true. I want to rage at her for what happened. The thing is that I'm still culpable. I was too stupid to realize that Samantha wouldn’t have just run away.
Back in the day, I hooked up with Autumn a few times. I saw the way she looked at me. I believed we had an understanding. When I decided Samantha was the one I truly wanted, I may have gone about ending things with Autumn the wrong way.
I told her to fuck off. I know after the accident I was worse for wear, and I was drinking and taking the pills the doctors prescribed me. On their own, they can cause issues. Together, it was a recipe for disaster.
Autumn must have slipped me something a little more. That’s the only thing I can think of to explain that day. I would not knowingly cheat on anyone. Especially my wife.
That’s why I was always so adamant about keeping things casual with women. I didn’t want to become my dad. I didn’t want to be that guy.
The one that felt, for whatever reason, it was alright to leave my wife and young son alone. With no money and barely any food- while I went out and got my dick wet with strangers- not caring what it did to them.
He’s the reason my mom died. I found out when I was eighteen that my mom had been sick with AIDS when she died. She contracted it from my bastard father. Of course, his illness never went past HIV.
Mom couldn’t afford the medicine she needed to treat the virus. Dad took everything for his whores and drugs. I would have gone hungry most nights if not for the generosity of the little old lady who lived in the trailer next to ours.
I got to watch my mom get sicker and sicker. You’d have thought she had the flu until the lesions started showing up on her neck and face. She knew, though. I know she did.
I’d hear her tell my dad that it was his fault. Then I’d hear him smack her. Mom’s cries were the worst part of it all. Mom couldn’t handle any more pain, so she went out one night and got her hands on a lethal dose of fentanyl.
They said her death was painless. Too bad her life couldn’t have been the same.
It wasn’t long before Child Protective Services got involved. Again, because of the neighbor. She thought she was doing the right thing by reporting the abuse I incurred. I wish she’d have kept her mouth shut.
No one knows the full story about the group home. They don’t know the truth of what happened to me and the other boys. No one but Wayne, anyway, and he took that knowledge to the grave.
I’m not sure how he knew about the wicked man who ran the home. The man, I don’t even know his name. We were to call him Sir or Master. The things he did to us still cause nightmares.
Wayne had the entire facility shut down, sir disappeared, and Wayne gave us a home on the ranch. Wayne was so good to us. I hope he never regretted his decision.
When I got older and was no longer a malnourished lanky kid, I went to see my dad. He had gotten treatment for his disease. The state probably paid for it. It pissed me off to see him so cocky and sure of himself.
It took one comment from him about my mother, and I was done. I don’t recall all the details, but I wailed at him and then couldn’t seem to stop. He was half-dead when the sirens approached. I should have killed the bastard.
Wayne was called to the police station as my guardian, and I went home with him that night. They didn’t file charges. My father died not long after that. They said it was a drug deal gone wrong. I say it was well deserved.
But still, I fear that no matter what I do, I’ll turn out just like him. A worthless waste of space. Someone who takes advantage of women and beats up on defenseless women and children, and all around doesn’t give a flying fuck that his actions have consequences.
“I see that look. You aren’t him.” Oli breaks me from my thoughts. “You’re so much better than he ever was.”
“What if I’m not? Better than him, I mean.”
“Shane. We’ve had this conversation repeatedly. Being a shitty person is not hereditary. If it were, we’d all be fucked.”
“I never deserved her,” I mumble to myself.
“Yet she loves you anyway,” Oli points out.
“Not anymore.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that”
“What do you mean?”
