Page 69 of The Innovator

Uncapping the water bottle, I offered it to her and sat down.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and looked at me, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’ve been trying to fight this trauma for a while. It’s not that bad today. I’ve experienced worse.”

“Want to talk about it?” I didn’t want to pressure her, but dammit, I wanted to know.

“You might see me differently after I tell you.”

I gripped her chin with my fingers, turning her to face me. “Buttercup, if that’s what you’re worried about, scratch it. We all have flaws, including me. I’m not going to judge you. I care about you, and I want to know everything about your life.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

NATALIE

Needing something to grasp, I reached for a throw pillow, holding onto it. I would’ve reached for Grayson’s hand, but I was hesitant about his response to what I had to say. He said he wanted to know about my life, but the truth would paint me as a weak person. Would he still want to be with someone still struggling with a childhood trauma?

Maybe I was overanalyzing or being overly sensitive about things, but Grayson mattered to me too. I’d told no one my story, but the look in his eyes showed me he truly cared.

So my heart opened for him, and my past poured out.

“This will teach you to never touch my daughter again!” Aunt Estelle yanks my arm so tight it hurts.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Estelle. I promise I won’t push Nicolette again.”

It’s her fault. She bullies me all the time. I can still feel the pain in my scalp when she pulls my hair and think it’s funny. She calls me names and steals my sketchbook, scribbling all over it even when I beg her not to. But this time I couldn’t stand it anymore. I fought back, but she fell and scraped her knees. Now, I’m in big trouble.

Hot tears stream down my face from fear and the pain from Aunt Estelle’s grip. She digs her manicured nails into my arm. Where’s she taking me?

Aunt Estelle is nice to me when Mommy and Daddy are around. But they’re traveling for work. Aunt Estelle always offers to watch me, and Mommy thinks it’s better to have family babysit than a stranger.

She yanks my arm, dragging me to a section of the house I haven’t been to.

“Ow. My arm hurts, Aunt Estelle. Please stop.”

When she looks at me, I know she hates me. Smiling, she tightens her grip. I don’t know why she hates me.

She opens a door, and all I see is darkness. My body immediately trembles.

“No! No!” I shout. “Mommy! Daddy! Help me!” I try to break free from her, but she’s a lot bigger than me. I’m only eight years old.

Aunt Estelle shoves me into the closet so hard that I fall on my back. She slams the door shut, and I hear a click. It’s so dark, and I’m so scared. Mommy and Daddy know I’m afraid of the dark. They always leave the two nightlights on when I sleep.

My heart races as I squeeze my eyes shut. My body won’t stop trembling as more tears run down my face. I pray this will be over soon.

Mommy and Daddy will come get me. I see them in my vision, and they make me feel better. After a moment, I gain some courage and open my eyes. Maybe there’s a window or something. I let my eyes adjust, but I still can’t see anything.

Then I hear a scary movie. Nicolette loves watching horror movies, and she’s playing it outside the door from her computer. “That’s what you get for pushing me, brat!”

I cover my ears, not wanting to hear the terrifying music and the screams for help from the movie characters. Terror heightens in me.

Warm wetness fill my pants, and my stomach curl as shame overwhelms me. I haven’t peed in my pants in so long, but I’ve never been this scared before. Why is it so hard to breathe? To move? The darkness starts shifting around me, forming terrifying shapes that look like scary faces. I close my eyes again, trying to shut them out.

“They’re not real.” Mommy’s words echo in my head.

Keeping my eyes closed and imagining my parents are with me, I force myself to crawl away from the noises until the sounds become faint. My hand touches a wall, and I lie against it.

Grayson draped an arm around me, pulling me close. My head rested on his sturdy shoulder, and my hand felt the beating of his heart. I lifted my face to his. He looked like a man ready to hurt someone, and my heart opened a little more.

“You were only eight years old,” he seethed. “I’ve never been physical with a woman, but right now, I want to kill her. She’s the adult who should’ve protected you.”

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