Page 131 of Promise and Punishment

No one did.

And regrettably, I was there again, young and scared, awoken with the cold hands that engulfed my little neck. Every sense of awareness, every anxious sound of screaming, of thunder, of terrifying noises hurled this moment to the forefront of my mind, this moment triggering the memory of when my father left and Claire desperately entered my room.

She couldn’t stop him from leaving, but she could stop us from feeling the pain of his absence, tricking him with the guilt to stay, to keep us safe. I never understood it, and how could I? And for what? A man? To keep him? And now I carried this secret, the reason why I ran to the dark, why I hid in the closet.

I wasn’t the woman in the Valentino dress anymore, instead, I was the little girl in the pink pajamas, screaming for help as my father pulled Claire away with a strong sweeping slap. I tried to fight it back but was unable to resist the single tear that broke loose from my eye.

“Alejandro!” I finally shouted, the entire crowd focused on the scene as the bartender kicked his legs. Alejandro continued, pinning him against the bar, his back crushing shards of broken glass.

“Fuck you…” Alejandro gargled towards the man, whose words began to choke out into desperate gasps of air.

“Stop!” I commanded. “Alejandro, listen to me!” I latched onto his arm, the whites of his eyes bright and full, consuming the stain of his red, tortured face as I viciously pulled him away. The bartender fell to his knees, grasping onto Ivanna for help as she lifted him to his feet. “Look at me!” I begged, his attention switching back and forth as security appeared. “You need to stop!”

“I won’t stop!” He silenced me with a shout. “I won’t sit here and watch a man hurt you, not him, not Parker!” He slammed his fist onto the bar, displacing the smattering of broken glass against his hand. Everyone stepped back as he began to bleed, but he didn’t care, not about the pain, not about the crowd.

“No,” I whimpered, stuck in a trance of who we were, of what I saw. “We can’t do this anymore. This isn’t about Parker, it’s about you!”

“Me?” he questioned. “It’s not about me. Hefuckingtouched you, Gemma.Hecame into our world and tried to steal you away, and if he won’t stop, then I won’t stop either.” Panic filled his eyes, his own past seeping through like boiled ooze, toxic and hurtful, not suitable to be kept inside anymore. A moment passed before Alejandro whispered, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything… tell me, Gemma…”

I looked over at the broken glass, at the judging crowd that watched our moves. The bartender was gone, but his presence remained in my mind, the struggle for his breath, the bulge in his eyes. He was one of the many people who felt the effects of mine and Alejandro’s relentless hurt. We hated where we came from, and for some reason that’s what drew us together: a volatile, eruptive, resentful couple.

This wasn’t an authentic connection, this was an attachment to trauma, an addiction to be rescued, to avoid the fear we carried. Yes, he was the thrill that opposed Parker’s predictability, but what was the cost, if not the cancer that plagued our lives and the lives of those around us?

“I have feelings for Parker…” I confessed, spilling out the truth neither of us wanted to know in this moment. “I felt something when he kissed me, and I kissed him back.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. It has been. No matter how much I like you, I can never give you what you want.” I replied in the unbearable silence that followed, feeling the aftershock of his violence. I didn’t want to relive that. I didn’t want to see it or speak of it, and that’s what he begged from me. I stared up at him, my heart shattering at the realization. I had feelings for Alejandro, deep unshakable feelings. But were they healthy? Were they real? “I can’t go with you, and I can’t be with you.”

“No… don’t say that.” He stared vacantly at me.

“We’re done…” I shot him a long and pained look, unable to stay without sobbing.

I turned to leave, but not before he could reach my wrist, the heat of his blood meeting my flesh as he pulled me into his arms, his eyes sobered, imprinting themselves into me.

And then, without question, without resistance, he kissed me, a long and desperate kiss that both soothed and hurt my lips. I couldn’t say anything, not that I would try as he pulled away with the most hurtful expression.

“We’ll never be done,” he asserted with tears in his eyes. “And I swear there will be a day that I kiss you again, that I’ll come back for what’s mine. These three months are for you… they are borrowed, not stolen. And when I come back, it’s to make this right.”

“Don’t say that,” I begged, clutching at my throat, my elbows pressed into my sides; his goodbye wasn’t truly a goodbye, but a warning.

“I will,” he said quietly. “Because when you think of me at night, of our kiss on the roof, remember that what you felt was real, and that I’ll be thinking of it too. This was always bigger than us, we are forever.” His last words slipped out as he let me go. “I’m taking you from Parker… and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do to stop me.” My arms washed over with a chill that soon turned into heat, as not a single word was said, but felt all over my body. He finally allowed me to turn around, to take the first steps of walking away, to make my way through unsuspecting guests who knew nothing about what just happened at the bar, but showed no pity with their high arched brows and elongated whispers.

I didn’t owe anyone anything, I only owed myself the life I dreamed of—absent of Claire, of any imperfect memory—to finally have what my heart always desired. Right or wrong, healthy or toxic, I stood up for what I wanted, and I did so with the willing acceptance of the pain it could cause.

This was my choice.

This was my decision.

I pulled out my phone, wiping my tears as I opened a message to Parker, sending three simple words that felt so good.

Gemma: I’m coming home.

Home. Parker was my home, an honest and true connection that I assured myself was the perfect choice,mychoice. Things would be different, things would start new, not only with Parker, but with everything in my life. Each step I took confirmed this, turning the wheels in a new direction, as I promised myself that in time, I would forget about Alejandro.

When I walked out into the busy street, I was given a sign. Little drops of rain began to fall upon my skin, covering my body as I looked above, reminding me of the night at The Met so long ago.

Yes.

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