Page 107 of Don't Make Me Beg
His teasing and smart ass remarks I can deal with, but this gentleness he’s shown me, the way he basically confessed his feelings for me… It all feels so vulnerable. So raw. And I find myself feeling terrified for what happens next.
You’ve already married him—and slept with him—what else do you really have to be afraid of?
That thought has my brain going into overdrive as a multitude of terrifying images come to mind.
Luka must sense my panic because he intertwines our fingers, then kisses the back of my hand. “Relax, Girl Scout. You’re going to love it,” he says with a wink. He tilts his head toward the staircase. “Come on. It’s upstairs.” There’s hesitation in my steps as I follow him up the stairs.
When we pass his office door, I grow more confused as I follow him to the locked door of my childhood bedroom. His hand pauses over the fingerprint scanner as he looks at me. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to show you this, but I wanted it to be special. I know you don’t believe me when I said I forgave you, so maybe this will convince you.”
He pushes open the door, and I suck in a gasp as I step inside my childhood bedroom, which he’s kept perfectly intact.
“Oh my God. Luka… How did you?—?”
“I made your parents an offer they couldn’t refuse,” he says, stepping behind me as I take in all the memories.
I want to press him on that, on why he’d do such a thing, especially when he hated me, but I’m too overwhelmed right now in the best possible way.
My four-poster white bed sits in the center of the room, with my lavender gingham print bedspread. The stuffed bunny I carried around everywhere I went until I was six, until my mother told me I was too big to play with stuffed animals, rests against my pillow. My fingers trace his worn-out fur, matted and scratchy after so many trips through the washing machine.
My parents didn’t even give me a chance to come back home to collect some of my childhood treasures; telling me they’d sold the house and donated all my old things months after they were already settled in their new house. I’d thought I’d lost this stuff forever.
My eyes drift to the pictures, the band posters, and the Girl Scout sashes filled with all my various badges, displaying all the awards I received throughout high school. My mother hated the way I decorated my bedroom, messing up her curated princess aesthetic with my angsty teenage bands and silly snapshots with Luka. But my room was the one area of my life where I didn’t listen to her. It was my safe place, my own little haven away from all the pressure of the world outside.
Seeing this room exactly as I left it has so many memories rushing back to me, and it feels like I’m being transported back in time. Tears fill my eyes as I pick up a photo. Seven-year-old me smiles at the camera, wearing her bright blue Daisy vest, holding an arm full of Girl Scout cookies. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d sold more than anyone in my troop, thanks to Mrs. Kingsley, and I’d received a special badge for it. I was so proud of that badge.
I thought they were proud of me, too, but now I realize they were just pleased with the positive attention they received on my behalf. That was made clear by my mother’s abrupt mood shiftfrom being annoyed that she had to cancel their dinner plans for a stupid Girl Scout ceremony, to insisting we go out for ice cream to celebrate.
A fat teardrop falls on the photo as I take in my younger self. My innocent eyes, full of excitement, full of so many hopes and dreams.
I think everyone wishes they felt something other than disappointment when they look at photos of their younger self.
But when I look at little Scout, I can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down…
Suddenly, I see myself in a whole new light, and when I spin to face Luka, I think he realizes it too.
“You kept everything,” I say in a whisper.
But then my gaze drifts to the dark-framed Phantom portrait I painted in art class when I was fifteen, and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to hold back my sob. I move toward the portrait, tracing my fingers along the thick, textured paint.
The haunting silhouette of the Phantom standing in the forest fills the dark canvas, the layers of black and deep green creating a depth that’s almost indistinguishable in the dim light. My eyes search the painting, immediately finding all the hidden words layered in the shadows.
Only the shadows tell the truth.
Good girls keep quiet.
They cut out my tongue to keep me silent, so I learned to speak with paint.
Am I perfect enough yet?
My eyes well with tears as I trace my fingers along the jagged paint, remembering every word I hid in the shadows and every emotion I felt as I painted it.
I never thought I’d see this again. She said she threw it away… “How do you have this?”
“I dug it out of the trash can after your parents went to bed. There was no way I could let her throw it away. I knew how much it meant to you.” He wets his lips. “I thought someday I’d hang it in my office, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it every day…” His voice trails off, and he doesn’t have to say the words for me to know what he means.
“I can’t believe you kept it… all this time…”
“Of course I did. I know how much this stuff meant to you. I couldn’t make myself get rid of it.” He shoves one hand in his pocket like he’s trying not to fidget and gestures to the door. “Except the door. I had to change it when I had the locks installed, but I tried to match the paint color on the inside as best as I could.” He rubs the back of his neck, not meeting my eyes. “I have a cleaning crew that comes to dust once a week, but besides that, no one comes in here. I don’t want you to think I invaded your privacy or anything like that. I just thought I’d keep it for you… You know, until you were ready.”
