Page 121 of Volatile Obsessions

This was new for me in a way I fancied a little too much.

“I was never that girl,” I somehow started suddenly, grappling Rome’s attention in a nanosecond. “You know, the one who lived a perfect life, with her perfect loving family, in their perfect little white picket fence home. Perhaps in another time and place, we could have been…” I took another quick puff, shaking my head. “But we weren’t. We were far from it. Anyway, I don’t know the whole story because it wasn’t shared with me, but I do know that my parents married young, like fresh out of secondary school young. They traveled around a bit, had plans for a whole lot of kids, but those plans quickly went spiraling down the drain when mum was unable to sustain a pregnancy. After five miscarriages, I finally managed to stick. Not wanting to get their hopes up, they refused to find out the gender—though my father was positive I was a boy.”

Rome rested his head on his hand as I passed him the blunt. He took a few puffs, and as always, I found myself enraptured at the sight of him letting it all go. The smirk he flashed me when he caught me staring prompted me to continue.

“So yeah, after all that, June rolled around and mum finally went into labor. She ended up having me via c-section after I’d, apparently, flipped breech at the last minute. I’m sure you can imagine my father’s surprise when the good Doctor told him I was a girl and not the strapping son he wanted. Any and every photo I’ve seen showed his disappointment, from the fake smile on his face to the awkward way in which he held me. Never mind the fact he was finally holding his own flesh and blood. I wasn’t a boy and it was clearly unacceptable,” I scoffed the last bit and fell onto my back, combing a hand through my hair, my gaze stuck on the circular tray ceiling above Rome’s bed.

Dread spilled itself into every nook and cranny of my being, undesirably so. We hadn’t even gotten to the worst part of it all yet and I was ready to call it quits. I didn’t want to share this shit with Roman.

Didn’t want him to know how ugly my life had been.

Certainly, I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me either. Because he would, I knew he would.

Once he learned the extent of it all, he’d understand why I was the way I was, and he’d feel nothing but pity.

I didn’t want his pity, or anyone else’s for that matter.

All I wanted was respect.

A thoughtful silence fell between us while the wheels of the past turned in my head. Rome didn’t say a word as he put out the cigarillo in the ashtray we had on the floor and wrapped an arm around my middle, pulling me closer to his side. It was a simple gesture of comfort, yet it felt so much more intimate than anything we’d shared thus far.

Following the colorful designs adorning his arm, I was met by his awaiting stare, a mindful expression furrowing his brows. He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’m listening, continue,” he urged softly.

Ugh.

“Everything went downhill from there. When he found out it’d be very unlikely my mum could carry another child, he completely pulled away from her. Maybe he thought it was her fault? That there was something she did or didn’t do to not bear him a boy, to not have the ability to reproduce like a normal woman? I don’t know. The point is, he pushed her away, started working more. When he came home, he’d toss back a few beers and plant his ass in front of the telly until he passed out. He rarely ever made it to bed, and when he did, it was just to fuck my mum. I heard his drunken profanities and her forced moans through the walls more times than I can count.”

An ill shiver racked through my body at the memories.

“What about you? Did he at the very least try having a relationship with you?” Rome asked.

“Never.” I shook my head. “I grew up virtually alone, always fending for myself. Yeah, I had mum for a while, but in the later years, she wasn’t present, too caught up in her own depression to give me the love and attention any kid needs. She loved me, but parenting, unfortunately, took a backseat to her own sufferings. I made my own meals, washed my own clothes. I walked to and from the bus stop alone. Homework and projects were done alone, too. Forget about holidays and birthdays; those didn’t exist in my home.”

“Holidays?” Rome picked up on it immediately, as expected.

And I nodded, because what else was I suppose to do?

“In my entire life, I think I had maybe three Christmases, and I was too young to even remember them.” A bitter laugh shot from my mouth. “Birthdays went on a little longer, but not by much. Once I was six or so, mum died altogether. Not physically, but she might as well have been.”

Rome was staring at me in complete shock, but the pity I expected to see wasn’t there.

No.

In its place, was ire.

A hint of sympathy billowed around the edges as well, but it was mostly contained fury.

It was terrifying because if he was this upset now, only knowing so little, I couldn’t imagine his state when I dished out the rest.

“Lux…I-I don’t even know what to say,” he rasped.

I was so used to shrugging it all off, that’s exactly what I did. “No one ever really does, especially when they realize it only gets worse.”

Blue eyes flashed in disbelief. “Go on…” he gritted out, swallowing deeply as if steeling himself.

Good, he should.

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