Page 85 of Like An Animal
Ifuckingshould have.
“Jeremy,” she whispers my name, her voice broken.
They came to collect me three days after you were arrested. They took me in the dead of night to their compound and I didn’t leave until a month after Charlotte was born.
Those words haunt me more than any of the others she said, more than her explanation of the torture she went through, more than the trauma of her initiation as a four year old little girl–the same age as our daughter is now.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” I tighten my arms around her legs as my chest tightens further from all the pain inside me, pain that is quickly coming to the surface.
“Jer, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She tries to soothe me, but I don’t think anyone could.
“No, it is.” I push myself off of her and pace the room, trying to grapple with every emotion pumping through my brain and spreading through the rest of my body.
“Jer—“
Bronwyn stands up as the tension rolls down my entire body.
“No. How can you not see that this is my fault? I fucking did this. I left and you were tortured. I wasn’t there to protect you, Bron.I wasn’t fucking there!” In a rage, I swipe everything off the table at the end of the bed, throwing it across the room including the projector. It crashes against the wall as I bellow a sound I’ve never made before, one full of the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
That’s what this feeling is. There’s no other way to describe it.
Crippling agony.
It was my job to keep her safe. I swore to her that I would bring her with me and I broke that promise. Our child was born in that horrible place. I can’t even think about what kind of things happened to Bronwyn with Charlotte in the fucking room.
“Jeremy, stop,” her voice breaks behind me, but I can barely focus on anything besides the pain.
The pain I feel.
The pain she experienced.
The pain her escape saved our daughter from.
Bronwyn grabs my arm and turns me to face her before taking my face in her hands. Her big green eyes plead with me as tears cover her face. “It wasn’t your fault. Please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
And there she is. She was always looking out for me and that just makes me feel worse.
“So what if I hurt myself? I fucking deserve it.” My legs buckle and I drop to my knees before her. My fingers dig into the soft carpet as more tears fall from my face, soaking into every fiber. “How can you even look at me?” The beating muscle inmy chest feels like it is moments away from imploding when she drops down in front of me before running her fingers through my hair.
“Because I love you,” she whispers, her broken words soft as silk. “I never stopped loving you and I never blamed you for what happened to me. It wasn’t your fault because it was my father’s fault. He signed my life away long before we ever met, Jer. He didn’t just sign me away–he signed Charlotte away and any child I ever have, too. You had no hand in that.”
I lift my head and look at the sadness across her face.
There’s something more there, something that is haunting.
“The only people who made choices that led me there outside of myself were David Durst and The Fathers.”
What is she trying to say?
“What do you mean by outside of yourself?”
Her lips tip up, but the emotions associated with a smile are completely absent. “Because they asked me to do something for them. There was an option, but it was either I did what they asked or they were going to kill you. I have never regretted that choice, not for a second.”
CHAPTER 36
THE GHOST
Five Years Ago…
