Page 157 of Sweet Venom
In reality, Jude cares about me, too. Not only does he have a bodyguard following me everywhere, which I think is a bit excessive, but he also buys me my favorite ginger ale, embroidery supplies, and tons of books that are…uh, a bit embarrassing because I tend to read unconventional romance. I just hope he never reads them and judges me, because these books are my comfort reads, and they mean so much to me in my self-acceptance journey.
Besides that, Jude’s been there for me. All the time. Even when we’re sitting together and I embroider while he watches hockey on TV, when we eat together, when I fall asleep reading and he carries me to bed. It feels…peaceful.
And that scares me.
Because I’ve never had this type of peace before, and I feel like something will happen and I’ll lose it all. I talked to my therapist about it, and apparently, it’s because I’ve conditioned my brain to always be in survival mode.
A fight, flight, or freeze response.
It’s because I’m expecting the worst-case scenario even when nothing indicates that things will get worse.
Childhood abuse and lack of parental love has altered my brain and shaped my life in a manner I can’t control.
Or couldn’t.
Now, I’ve become more aware of my reactions and my self-deprecating habits.
I’m learning to remember all the good things happening in my life lately. How Dahlia is happy, how we don’t have to suffer or worry about money. I remember that I’m having fewer nightmares and doing better in school. I remember that I’m making some people’s lives better at the charity and with my embroidering.
I’m living. Breathing. I don’t think about death anymore.
I don’t feel lonely or scared or unsure or like I’m trapped in a black hole.
It’s largely due to my own self-acceptance and finally seeing my self-worth, but a part of it is because I have Jude.
It’s not that he made me find myself, I had to go through a coma and a life-changing experience to realize I wanted to live, but he always encouraged me to stand up for myself, even if it was against him.
In the beginning, I was always tight, waiting for when he’ll lash at me, call me names that were entrenched in my psyche for life.
Stupid. Worthless. Ugly. A nuisance.
Not only he’s never said those, but he’s always called me beautiful and looked at me like I was the most precious person in the world. Ifeelbeautiful in his arms—something I never felt before.
Being with him helps me ground myself and dig deeper into the knots of trauma I kept in the dark my whole life.
Now, I focus on the fact that he’s righthere, currently walking beside me, and my anxiety subsides a bit.
My gaze flits to the looming Callahan house.
No. Mansion.
From the outside, it’s a fortress of dark stone and towering windows that feel more like creepy, watchful eyes than anything meant to let light in.
The entrance is lined with massive iron doors, their intricate medieval carvings swallowing up the faint glow of the lamps that line the path. As we approach, a woman in a pristine skirt suit pulls the door open.
Streaks of white hair line the sides of her face, and I pause upon seeing her familiar features.
“Lucia.” Jude acknowledges her with a nod. “Is dinner over yet?”
Lucia slides a mechanical gaze over me, then focuses back on Jude. “We just served the second course.”
“Awesome.” He lets out a frustrated breath as he shrugs off his jacket and gives it to Lucia.
She waits for me to do the same, so I remove mine and thank her.
As we resume walking, I steal one last glimpse at Lucia, who’s standing in an erect position by the door.
“Is that…?” I ask, my voice low in the silence.
