baseball bat extended from his rigid form. He’s not even looking at my face but at my leg.
“Archer, honey…” I drift off. I don’t even know what to say. How much did he see? Oh, God, how much did he hear? Not only had that bastard stolen my innocence, but now he’s also claimed my baby’s. To think, I was just wondering if it were possible to hate him more than I already do. I push my pants leg back down and climb the steps to put my arms around him. Resting my chin on his head and turn and run my cheek over his soft, dark brown hair. “Come on, honey. Let’s go inside.”
I get Archer settled on the couch, tell him I’ll be right back, and walk down the hall to check on Paris and Finn. After I ascertain that they’ve remained blissfully ignorant to all that has transpired and thank God for small favors, I return to Archer and sit beside him quietly. I think it best to let him talk it out rather than start making assumptions and telling him what and how to feel about all that has happened. Grabbing his hand, I sit and wait for a few minutes. It’s killing me. I begin to think maybe he’s in shock and decide I should start talking when he says one simple thing that shatters my heart into a million tiny pieces.
“Dad would have never treated you that way,” he whispers raggedly. He finally turns and makes eye contact with me. Kind dark brown eyes that mirror his father’s are brimming with tears. “I miss Dad.”
He becomes blurry as my own eyes water. “Sweetie, I know you do. And you’re right. Dad would’ve never treated me that way. What Uncle William did was not very nice.” Understatement of the year! I think.
“Don’t call him my uncle,” he says coldly.
“All right, honey. William is mixed up between right and wrong, and he drinks too much. What he did was wrong. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow.” I almost choke on the lie, but what do you tell your twelve-year-old son about a twisted person whom they happen to be related to?
“I’ve never liked him. Now I know why,” he says sagely. “I was about to come after him, Mom, but I saw that you had him under control.” I wince as I imagine him “coming after” William. That would have been bad.
“I’m so sorry that you had to see that. Please know that it will never happen again. I promise to only surround us with good people.”
He chews on that for a moment. “Adrian would never treat you that way either.”
My heart does flips as I hear him say this. He loves Adrian so much, and he’s such a good influence on him. “You’re a good judge of character, sweetheart. Adrian wouldn’t treat me that way either.”
I give Archer a kiss and bring him back to his room and tuck him in. I make my way through the house, turning off all the lights, double-checking all the locks, all the while feeling something building inside me. It’s ugly and scary and reminds me of the Devil himself. I’m terrified by what I feel right now, and I can’t even put a name on this emotion.
Easing myself into the shower, I begin to wash the extraordinarily long day away. What a naïve little fool I am, thinking I could have a little something for myself, whether it be Bradford or Adrian. What was I thinking?
Closing my eyes, I feel my tears mix with the water that cascades over my face. Thinking back to that scared little girl in that dark closet who was forced to help a depraved young man masturbate, I turn my face up to the water and bite my lip hard as whimpers start to bubble from me. I open my mouth to release them but all that erupts is a silent scream. Bending over, I start gagging. I grasp my abdomen as the contents of my stomach swirl around the drain. I close my eyes and purge myself. Finally, I succumb to all that I’m feeling and I’m on my hands and knees, heaving and crying and praying.
STANDING AT THE island, I roll my eyes as my mother asks me yet another invasive question about Bradford. Popping
“Archer, honey…” I drift off. I don’t even know what to say. How much did he see? Oh, God, how much did he hear? Not only had that bastard stolen my innocence, but now he’s also claimed my baby’s. To think, I was just wondering if it were possible to hate him more than I already do. I push my pants leg back down and climb the steps to put my arms around him. Resting my chin on his head and turn and run my cheek over his soft, dark brown hair. “Come on, honey. Let’s go inside.”
I get Archer settled on the couch, tell him I’ll be right back, and walk down the hall to check on Paris and Finn. After I ascertain that they’ve remained blissfully ignorant to all that has transpired and thank God for small favors, I return to Archer and sit beside him quietly. I think it best to let him talk it out rather than start making assumptions and telling him what and how to feel about all that has happened. Grabbing his hand, I sit and wait for a few minutes. It’s killing me. I begin to think maybe he’s in shock and decide I should start talking when he says one simple thing that shatters my heart into a million tiny pieces.
“Dad would have never treated you that way,” he whispers raggedly. He finally turns and makes eye contact with me. Kind dark brown eyes that mirror his father’s are brimming with tears. “I miss Dad.”
He becomes blurry as my own eyes water. “Sweetie, I know you do. And you’re right. Dad would’ve never treated me that way. What Uncle William did was not very nice.” Understatement of the year! I think.
“Don’t call him my uncle,” he says coldly.
“All right, honey. William is mixed up between right and wrong, and he drinks too much. What he did was wrong. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow.” I almost choke on the lie, but what do you tell your twelve-year-old son about a twisted person whom they happen to be related to?
“I’ve never liked him. Now I know why,” he says sagely. “I was about to come after him, Mom, but I saw that you had him under control.” I wince as I imagine him “coming after” William. That would have been bad.
“I’m so sorry that you had to see that. Please know that it will never happen again. I promise to only surround us with good people.”
He chews on that for a moment. “Adrian would never treat you that way either.”
My heart does flips as I hear him say this. He loves Adrian so much, and he’s such a good influence on him. “You’re a good judge of character, sweetheart. Adrian wouldn’t treat me that way either.”
I give Archer a kiss and bring him back to his room and tuck him in. I make my way through the house, turning off all the lights, double-checking all the locks, all the while feeling something building inside me. It’s ugly and scary and reminds me of the Devil himself. I’m terrified by what I feel right now, and I can’t even put a name on this emotion.
Easing myself into the shower, I begin to wash the extraordinarily long day away. What a naïve little fool I am, thinking I could have a little something for myself, whether it be Bradford or Adrian. What was I thinking?
Closing my eyes, I feel my tears mix with the water that cascades over my face. Thinking back to that scared little girl in that dark closet who was forced to help a depraved young man masturbate, I turn my face up to the water and bite my lip hard as whimpers start to bubble from me. I open my mouth to release them but all that erupts is a silent scream. Bending over, I start gagging. I grasp my abdomen as the contents of my stomach swirl around the drain. I close my eyes and purge myself. Finally, I succumb to all that I’m feeling and I’m on my hands and knees, heaving and crying and praying.
STANDING AT THE island, I roll my eyes as my mother asks me yet another invasive question about Bradford. Popping
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