Page 45 of Wasted Oil

"It’s my favorite flower.” I give him a half assed answer.

He quirks his head the question still written all over his face. Deciding to dodge the question in whatever way I can, I wiggle out of his arms breaking out in a swim.

"Catch me if you can!” I yell before submerging myself into the water swimming for my life. I hear my heart thumping as I try to swim as fast as I can. Don’t tell him Mel, He will look at you with pity and disdain. Swim faster. Reemerging from the water, I quickly turn to see where Rhett is, turning in a circle, but I don’t see him. Where the hell did this man go?

“Got you." He whispers in my ear the warmth of his breath sending shivers all over my body, his hands wrapped around my abdomen, my back flush with his chest.

“Why are you running from me.” He adds.

I turn in his arms, our chests now touching.

"I'm not running.”

God can I be anymore of brat. I can see he wants a true answer because I always run away when things feel too heavy or just too much and I have no balls to do or say anything. I know the question that he is grasping at to know, but I'm too afraid to hear his response.

His eyes search mine begging me to let him in. He makes me feel safe so why can't I? I'm an idiot when it comes to him. He has the power to make my heart either stop beating all together or beat too fast for my breath to catch up to it.

His finger and thumb find my chin, raising my head so that our eyes meet. He hasn't said anything yet but I can feel it coming.

"No, why did you run from me? Let me in Boots, Please.” I shut my eyes to subside the sting of emotions threatening to show.

"Rhett I can’t. You’ll look at me differently.”

I feel his whisper, "Look at me.”

My eyes don't budge, just tears spilling out.

"I said look at me.” His voice is a little more stern, causing me to flinch. Reluctantly, I open my eyes finding his.

"You're worth every stare, every glance. Nothing you say can make me see you in a different light. Tell me —Who put those scars on you?”

I breathe deeply through my nose and exhale through my lips.

"There is a reason why I left, and I want you to understand, Rhett, that I never meant to leave without saying goodbye.”

He doesn't say a word, just listens. Taking a deep breath, I continue,

"It started when I was five. I had accidentally tripped and knocked over my mom's new vase of flowers Andres had gotten her. I tried to clean it up and put it back together, but I was only five I was so scared. As soon as it happened, I could hear his footsteps coming down the stairs. When he saw what the glass from the vase and flowers scattered over the floor, it was like something came over him, and he went crazy, he couldn’t stop yelling. He had thrown me like a rag-doll before when I would do something, but it was the first time he raised his hand and hit me. It was also the first time I went to school with makeup.”

I let the words sink and if this were a cartoon Rhett's face would be red and steam would be pouring out from his ears.

"Mama tried to stop him, that just made him angrier, taking out his frustration on me and her. All I could do was cry that night; I was only five years old.”

A moment passes by not a word from me or him.

"The scars came later, as I got older. He realized he found no pleasure in using his hands anymore, instead he would use his belt. Anytime I said something or did something that he did not approve of it was a whip from the belt. After he was done and satisfied mama would take me to the bathroom and clean me up, telling me that he will stop. Every time she did, I would believe her even though I was in pain from my dad physically and emotionally. Sadly, it never stopped. Pretty soon it stopped being about what I said or did and more about me standing up to him, especially when it came to my dreams.”

At this point I couldn’t stop talking about my post trauma. The truth needed to come out.

"When I first told him that I didn’t want to take over the company, he beat me so badly that I couldn’t move and I wished that I had died during it so that I didn’t have to feel the beating that wouldn't stop.”

Saying that out loud to Rhett, takes a weight off my chest, I had never told anyone about wanting to die, not even Alex.

"Sometimes, I would take the beating when he was pissed just so that Xavier wasn’t touched. I saved him, but not mama. Every time she would patch me back up, he would turn around and beat her.”

"Why didn’t she take you and X and run from him?” He asked with almost a whisper, as if he didn’t mean for me to hear it. I take in his question, looking out over the water taking in the beauty, the serenity, loving the safe place nature has allowed me to talk freely in.

"I would ask her multiple times to run or tell someone about what was going on. Her responses were always the same: 'I know he has a good heart.' Or 'This isn’t like him.' My favorite was always 'he will change'. It wasn’t any of those though. She was scared, he had her so controlled that if she ever thought of leaving, he would be right there on her shoulder like the devil.”

---