Page 69 of No Saint

She hits me.

Hard. My cheek alights with the pain and my head twists to the side with the force of it. Blood trickles onto my tongue from where my teeth cut into my cheek.

But it’s enough. It’s enough for the rage to recede and my rational thought to slide back into place. It’s enough to recognize the pain on her face, no longer fear.

“Amelia,” I start.

“Fuck you.Fuck you,Gabriel Saint. Go to fucking hell!” She pushes away from me and runs from the room.

“Amelia!” I roar after her, chasing. “Amelia wait!”

She stops at the base of the stairs and spins to me, “You will never touch me again, Gabriel. You willnever. I hate you.”

“Amelia, I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?Sorry?” She laughs, “Me too, Gabriel. I’m sorry I ever fucking let myself think you were anything other than the monster you are. You can have my freedom. My life. But me? You haven’t got me.”

I let her go and hang my head, closing my eyes at the heavy weight of disappointment that lands in my chest.

Everything was going to shit. My whole fucking world was crumbling at my feet.

It was self-destruction.

I was combusting from the inside out, with her, this city, my dead brother…

28

When I was in the third or fourth grade my teacher said something I hadn’t remembered until right now. It wasn’t addressed to me but to the class as a whole after some kids were caught slinging insults at each other, each one getting nastier as they went on until one of the kids became so upset by it, their parents were called to the school.

Now, we all get it, don’t we? Kids can be cruel. School is harsh but I guess in a way, it sets you up for the reality that will soon smack you in the face. There’s this big dream that when we grow up our lives magically become better, we have freedom and independence, resilience, and these big fucking dreams. Nothing could affect us like it did when we were children.

But that wasn’t right.

Things as an adult just got worse.

But she spoke to the class, explaining something we thought would go away once we grew.

Words have as much power on a person as actions. They cut just as deep and twice as hard. A physical trauma hurts the flesh, but words, they hurt the soul.

I’d tuned out at this point in the speech because no one spoke to me at school. Always the outcast because of my situation and not even deemed worthy enough of a bully. I guess after all I didn’t have much else to lose and they couldn’t affect me.

I hadn’t realized I’d retained that conversation until now. But I was that kid and that adult now who believed my life was better. I believed I was strong and resilient, free and independent but I wasn’t.

And it only took Gabriel hammering that home for me to realize.

I was so attention starved that I’d gone to the man who had kidnapped me and then forced me to marry him and for why? Because he’d shown me attention no one else had?

I’d had men, fuck I’d slept with his brother but none were as attentive as the man himself.

And his words, they cut deep.

So, let’s give you the attention you so deeply crave.

I wouldn’t cry. I’d done enough of that but after last night, I thought it was different. I gave him what he wanted, and he threw that in my face just like the crusts on a sandwich Lincoln doesn’t like to eat.

But he wasn’t wrong, was he?

I craved attention. I was starved for it.

---