I continued to move my finger in rhythmic circles around her palm. I found it calming, therapeutic even, but also as hot as all hell. I wasn’t in a rush. Apart from the fact that I was painfully hard, I could have stayed like that for days. I waited, giving her the time she needed to collect her thoughts before speaking. Clearly, whatever it was, she wasn’t expecting me to like it.
“My father was ill, I guess. Mentally, I mean. I didn’t realize when I was very little. I just thought he was a little different from other dads, but as I grew older, I realized that something was very wrong. Other dads didn’t keep their wives like pets, or virtual prisoners. Other dads didn’t fly into a rage other the tiniest little things, lashing out at their families if everything wasn’t to their exact liking.”
Fuck. I balled my fists, and I was suddenly acutely aware of the blood surging through my body, a heavy pulse throbbing at my temple. That motherfucker had better hope he never crossed my path again, or I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. I was too angry to say anything, but when I withdrew my hands from her, Melissa stopped speaking and looked my way. Fury radiated through me so strongly, I could hardly meet her gaze. She reached out to gently squeeze my bicep before speaking again.
“It wasn’t so bad for me—he very rarely laid a finger on me. My mom bore the brunt of it. I’m still plagued with guilt at the things I witnessed Mom go through without doing anything to help her. In fact, when I was old enough, as soon as he started his carry on, I would take myself to my room and turn up my music full blast to drown out the noise.” Fuck.
“The sound of her screams, of flesh impacting on flesh, bones breaking. When he was done, I would go to her. I’d help her up of the floor, tend to her wounds, put her to bed. But I never did anything to stop it, and I hate myself for it.” Tears welled at the rims of her eyes, while I swallowed down my own distress.
“Sweetheart, you were a kid. It wasn’t on you to protect your mother from a monster. He was her husband and your father. It was his job to protect you both, not the other way around. What could you have done against a grown man, a soldier, anyway, for fuck’s sake? I’m sure your mom wanted to keep you as far out of the way as possible, too. To protect and shield you from all that.”
“I guess so,” she shrugged. “To this day I had no real idea what was going on in Mom’s head during those dark times.”
“He was an alcoholic. Probably a narcissistic personality too, with hindsight. Most of his rages happened when he was drunk. When he finished taking out his anger and frustration on his human punching bag, he would drink until he blacked out where he stood, then the next day, act as though nothing had ever happened. I don’t know if he genuinely forgot, or if he used the blackouts as an excuse not to mention what a monster he was. I mean he must have known what he had done—I never once saw him question Mom about her injuries, so he must have remembered inflicting them.”
“Didn’t anyone notice what was going on? Someone should have reported that reprobate.”
“That’s where his MO of having us move so often came in. We didn’t have time to put down roots, or for people to figure out that there was a problem. If they did, or were close to doing so, it generally coincided with our next move. I guess nobody cared enough to pursue it. Once we left whatever town had most recently been home, we were ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Rinse and repeat.”
“In Rome, when he confronted me about my relationship with you, he attacked me physically, as well as verbally. He really lost his shit, and for the first time, I had a proper taste of what mom had put up with all those years, and what it felt like to be on the receiving end of such rage and hate. He punched, kicked, dragged me around the suite by my hair. It was horrific.”
I was out of my seat before I even knew what I was doing, pacing the porch like a gladiator preparing for battle. I had never been so angry. Not when Melissa left, not on the football field, not in a dispute with the other gods. I knew then what it meant when they talked about adrenaline giving people superhuman strength. I felt as if I could tear the world apart with my bare hands, and not even break a sweat.
Melissa patted the swing seat, urging me to rejoin her. I stared at it, my vision blurry and unfocussed, unsure if I could contain my anger and frustration long enough to sit down as she continued her story. I very much doubted it.
“Beck, come sit. I need you near me.” That stopped me in my tracks. She needed me. She could probably hear my heart thudding like a herd of angry buffalo as I sat down again.
“Eventually somebody pounded on the door, threatening in Italian to call the police. I wish they had. Then maybe things would have been different. They didn’t. It was our last full day on vacation, and we spent the day holed up in the hotel room, packing. At least my mom and I did, anyway. When he was done bashing six shades of shit out of us, my father had stormed off to spend the rest of the day drinking himself into oblivion in the tavernas.
“During his tirade, he had pulled out what seemed like hundreds of photos of you and me, over the time we had been dating. To this day I will never know why he let it get as far as it did between us, if he knew what was going on all along. But then looking for logic in anything my father did made less sense than looking for a pot of gold and leprechaun at the end of a rainbow.”
I rested my palm on her cheek, stroking away her tears as they fell. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but it was too late for that. Twelve years too late, to be exact.
“He had threatened me, telling me he knew we were sleeping together, and that if I didn’t do what he wanted, he was going to have you charged with statutory rape.”
“That’s fucking bullshit. The age of consent in Pennsylvania is sixteen, and we were seventeen. He would have been laughed out of the police station if he’d even tried.”
“I know that now, but at the time I was terrified for you. He was a master manipulator, and knew just how to play Mom and me to keep us where he wanted us. You’d worked so hard and had a bright future ahead of you. I didn’t want to tarnish it, with my family’s crazy bullshit, and I definitely didn’t want to jeopardize it with a sex offense (or criminal record of any kind) on your file. I decided there and then that I had to agree to his demands.”
“You didn’t have to protect me like that.”
“Yes I did. When you love someone, you want the best for them, and I loved you in a way I’d never loved anyone before, or since.” The tears were cascading down her cheeks now, and though she wiped them away furiously, nothing seemed to stem the tide.
“We were moving to Missouri, and he wanted me to cut all contact with you forever in return for not pressing charges. He said he had eyes and ears on you—monitoring your movements and your calls, and that he’d know if I broke the agreement and contacted you in any way. I believed he was mean and crazy enough to do what he said he would. The dossier he had on us was pretty compelling evidence of just how far he’d go.”
“So you just disappeared without a trace forever?” The words sounded strangled as I tried to speak around the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. She nodded, her chest moving rapidly wracked with sobs. I could barely make out the words as she spoke again.