Page 41 of Cain
He looked genuinely sorry. I told him he’s forgiven. And he is.
I get it.Why trust me?I’m no one.
If I had a sister, I’d trust her over a stranger any day. Butthat doesn’t change how I feel—doesn’t stop the pain, doesn’t stop Cain from hurting me by merely standing in front of me. Seeing him hurts. Talking to him hurts. Listening to him hurts.
Jamie gave me physical pain. He gaslit me. He told me I was useless and he was doing me a favor by taking care of me. I didn’t love him. At all. I only had fear. But he was never able to hurt my heart, just my body and my mind. But Cain was and is different. I fell in love with him. I still love him. It’s pathetic. The first man who shows me kindness, I fall in love.
At least with Jamie, I knew it was attraction—and a need for someone, anyone, to be a companion. I was alone, had been since I ran away from my last foster home when I was fifteen. I was working wherever I could. Living in homeless shelters. Dodging the worst on the streets.
When I met Jamie, I knew what he was—a taker. But he gave me a job, and at first, he was almost decent. He made me move in with him. Then, slowly, my friends disappeared. Or maybe I did. And then came the hitting. The screaming. The control. It sounds like a bad Lifetime movie.
History repeats, they say. Past is prologue.
I obviously didn’t learn a thing from Jamie. Cain gave me a job. Gave me kindness. I fell in love. Then he beat me up—not with his fists like Jamie, but in other ways.
But this hurts more than Jamie ever did.
I’m not afraid of Cain. I’m scared of surrendering. Of handing over my heart and finding myself trapped in that same vicious cycle—apologies followed by pain, sweet words masking fresh bruises.
The ache Cain causes is different. With Jamie, even in the darkest moments, I could still claw my way to the surface. I could still find a sliver of blue sky between the clouds. But now, even when the sun shines, all I see is gray.
“So,” Ricky cracks his knuckles as he leans back in his chair. “I got a job for you. Bartending.”
I blink.
“You do good cleaning…but we have a new person. You train her, and Onyx will train you for the bar.”
I swallow. “You sure?”
“Yeah. You bartended before?”
I nod.
“Then, what’s the problem?”
My meditation will be taken away from me. I love my silence. Behind the bar, I’ll have to talk to people. Behind the bar, I’ll be left open.
“You’ll make more. The tips are good. The way you look, you’ll make bank. Cleaning pays fuck all.”
He’s right about that. I’m barely scraping by. After the bills are paid, there’s almost nothing left—my savings are a joke.
He sees my silence as reticence. “I’ve seen how you watch everything, keep track without writing shit down. You’re smart. You’ll do great.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline.
“You don’t have to keep mopping piss off the floors, kid. I mean it.”
I fold my hands on my lap. “Why are you doing this?”
Ricky shrugs. “Because you’re good people. And because you don’t belong out on the street every time life gets ugly. I’ve done that. It sucks.”
I don’t say anything. My throat’s too tight.
I was going to run. I was…as soon as I got my bearings. Now, Ricky is giving me a reason to stay. Could I?
He studies me for a long moment. “Don’t run. You hear me? You’ve run enough. Make a life. You deserve it.”
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