Page 21 of First Christmas

I watched her pacing back and forth from across the bar and slowly walked around to meet her coming towards me again. I grabbed her arms as I said,“Stop.”

She yanked away, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Fucking talk to me.”

She let out a frustrated little scream, placed her hands on my chest, and shoved. She caught me off guard enough I fell back a step, but grabbed her forearms again, and shook her gently.

“Let it out, Rebecca! Fuck! If you need to rage, rage at me. If you need to fall apart, I’ll catch all the pieces and put you back together. If you need to hit something, hit me. I’m your safe place, Becks. Let it go.”

Chapter 9

“Let it go.”

Let it go? He didn’t even understand what he was asking.

I didn’t even completely understand what I was feeling.

I was suddenly just so tired of holding everything in and being strong. I felt like I was on the precipice of something and about to topple over into an abyss with no end in sight.

I immediately felt absolutely furious about everything that had happened to me.

Seeing everything good in my life, and watching Nat thrive infuriated me. We’d had that stolen from us for so long.

Seeing how everything should’ve been was breaking me.

Being scared of everyone leaving me was breaking me.

I was breaking myself.

I was projecting everything out onto everyone through cleaning and everything was manifesting through panic attacks and more cleaning.

I was infuriated that I’d been so stupid and needy that I’d been drawn to someone like Clark.

I was instantly furious that I’d been stupid enough to get in the car with Larry.

Me being stupid enough to get in that car was what led Paul away from his family, forever.

I saw my hand strike out and hit Lucas in the chest again.

He was braced this time and didn’t even falter half a step. I wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. I didn’t want to hurt him. He was just there. Always pushing me to be better, and do better. I was mad at him for being so fucking perfect that I had to be scared every day that he’d disappear.

“That's all you got?” his voice grumbled down at me.

Suddenly my vision was clouded with moisture that wasn’t because I was scared or anxious. They were furious tears that were coming from years of injustice and I kept slapping his chest with both hands, crying, and ranting about it all. Everything that I’d held in for over a decade was pouring out of my mouth.

My insecurities and fears rushed out from between my lips.

“Everyone thinks it's so easy,” I gasped, not even recognizing my own voice through the angry sobs, “being so lonely without my parents and grandparents that I was stupid enough to fall for a monster like Clark. Ignoring all the signs and letting him brainwash me to believe I really couldn’t do better. Letting him hit me and going back a second and third time. It took taking a fucking pregnancy test to wake me up, because I didn’t value myself enough.”

Lucas still just stood there. Silent and accepting of my palms slapping against his chest. Hearing the words I had never spoken aloud to anyone else. No matter how self-deprecating they were.

“Never letting anyone in. Never having friends. Having to fucking train my daughter to be secretive just to keep her safe. I ran and he still destroyed her childhood. I still feel like a failure of a mother because she just now gets to see what it should’ve been like. I hate myself every day I look into the mirror. I hate that I let it happen. I hate that she had to grow up that way. I hate that I ran and ran. I hate that he followed me. I hate that the first friend I’ve ever had lost her husband because of me. I hate that he felt like he needed to save me so he came in without waiting for help. I hate that I feel like I’m not good enough to deserve all of everyone’s love and acceptance and understanding. I hate that I know deep down I do deserve it all and that none of it is my fault and the real problem is I just don’t know how to fucking fix it!” I screamed the last part, shoving him and falling to my knees, even as he braced his arms around me and followed me down so I didn’t hurt myself.

I covered my face as everything poured out of me, at long last. Having told someone my darkest thoughts and fears. Never having even voiced them to my therapist.

Lucas saw it all in the cozy kitchen of the house he grew up in.

He saw it all.

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