Walk With Me

24. Mine

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, her voice breaking. The sound of her labored breathing and the shaky inhale that wracks through her body about does me in.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Amber."

She stands up straight, raising her hands to her face, and wiping the heels of her palms against her eyes. "I just don't want anything like that here that will remind me of him. It's been so easy to keep his memory from infiltrating our actual living situation lately because my parents' house exudes such a different essence of life. It's comfortable there because it's unique to my upbringing. But here... this place is ours. Mine and hers. And I just..."

"Don't want his spirit intruding," I finish for her.

She turns in my arms, looks up at me through teary eyelashes. "Exactly," she whispers, her smile weak as she lets her gaze wander off to one side and then the other. The open floor plan looks empty with no furniture and yet, so full of possibilities. "I don't want any of that here," Amber continues. "That walking on eggshells, dodging him at all costs, the times I couldn't... This place represents our new beginning, one where we won't have to hide from the chaos because that chaos won't exist here. I never want it to exist here. I only want there to be love."

I take my own look around. "There's a lot of room for love here, Amber. And I know you'll fill it up. I can already feel it and you've barely moved in."

Her eyes meet mine with a genuine smile this time. "Thank you, Tommy," she mutters as she sinks her forehead into my chest, the sound of a faint sniffle floating up as she collects herself.

Fuck, it's hard seeing her like this. I can't imagine the bittersweet emotion that impales a person in Amber's situation. She's being torn in so many different directions and not a single one of them leads down an easy road. The pain of suffering, the strength of getting out, the crippling responsibility of starting over. And with a kid in tow?

She's been awarded the freedom of escape, which is basically just an oxymoron. She had to escape to gain freedom? That's fucked up. And having Mia along for the ride only makes it harder. The single shining light here is that Amber got her away from the shit early enough that she hopefully won't retain too many upsetting memories.

Mia will know the love. That's what she'll remember most. And that's all that will matter, regardless of what she may have been witness to in New York.

The reality of that hits me in the gut. Mia's a solid kid but there's still this particular aura about her that rubs me the wrong way, breaks my fucking heart. I've seen that aura before, the withdrawn look in her eyes and the keen, almost unnatural suspicion she has around others. Between the behavior of my own sisters growing up, the shit I've battled on my own, and within my line of work, I'm familiar with it. After seeing my siblings struggle in their own ways and then, as a cop, watching a multitude of children get carted away by child services from homes that were failing them, let's just say the regret and sympathy runs deep.

I can see clearly that Mia's been extremely well taken care of, her upbringing has been far from one of neglect. I also understand Amber took the physical damage, protecting her daughter from that harm. And that's good. Fuck, it's incredible. But the problem is, physical injury and neglect are only a couple of the debilitating symptoms of an abusive home.

Sure, they pack the worst kind of punch, manifesting in pain, fear, mistrust, attachment disorders, and the like. But when innocent eyes and ears are contaminated with violence, playing out like a movie in front of them, that does a damaging number of its own. It molds your mind, shapes the way you make decisions, makes you wary of people that may not deserve it.