Hot Summer Night

13 - Declan

The other night, it wasn't a lie when I told Seraphine if another man ever touched or hurt her again, I'd kill them because I would. She has all the PTSD symptoms I'd been trained to spot on an abused person, and I'm livid at seeing what she endured for so many years at her husband's hands. She has nightmares, is easily startled, is always on guard, is irritated with everything, has outbursts, is always on edge and emotional, has difficulty socializing, and continues isolating herself. It's also been a chore trying to get her to eat.

Victims of abuse also always lose interest in doing the things they love. That's why I wanted to get her out of the house and take her places where she could get back into the world of what she enjoyed doing—photography. I wanted her to see that she could do those things again without anyone telling her she couldn't.

When she and I were together, she was the sweetest girl I ever knew. Everyone loved her. Her heart was bigger than the world, and no ounce of hate was in her bones. She put others before her own wants and needs and was always kind, caring, and giving.

Now, everything about her is broken, and I hate seeing her this way. I know that sweet girl I fell in love with over sixteen years ago is still there. I just need to work on bringing her back to who she was when I left almost thirteen years ago. And I will do everything I can to bring her back to the same loving woman I once knew her as and loved.

I felt terrible about the bridge incident. Had I known Seraphine feared driving on them, I wouldn't have taken her to that Island. I only wanted her to see and experience the sunset capital of Alabama because of her love for sunsets.

I felt that getting her out of the house the other night without a fight was progress.

So, I thought.

She hasn't been out of her room since I brought her home three nights ago, and she hasn't eaten. So, since I don't have Everly this weekend, I'll work hard with Seraphine to get her out of isolation, get her to eat, take pictures, and make her feel free again.

"Seraphine, can I come in?" I asked, knocking on her bedroom door. "S'il vous plaît?" I begged when she didn't answer. When she still didn't answer, I continued knocking. "If you ignore me, I'll open the door and enter whether you're dressed or not."

Concern immediately rushed through me, and my stomach twisted when she still didn't answer me. I know there's a possibility she could be sleeping or in the shower. And I didn't want to violate her privacy if I entered the room and she was naked. But how her mentality has been, and from the things Marla confessed to me about the disturbing thoughts Seraphine had mentioned, I wasn't going to take any chances of her letting Chadwick's demons take over her mind and win.

I slowly opened the door. "Seraphine, please. Talk to me," I begged, hoping she was dressed.

She's not showering, sleeping, naked, or deceased. She's curled into a ball on the bed, her arms covering her head, and she's crying.

I sat beside her. She may not like what I was about to do, but she obviously needed soothing. The second my hand touched her back, and I started gently rubbing, she flinched and then froze.

"Seraphine, I'm here for you. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Please let me help you," I pleaded. She continued to weep. So, to see if I could get a response or laugh from her, I asked, "Do you need to hit something? Because if you do, you're more than welcome to hit me. I deserve it, anyway."

Her body relaxed, but she continued to weep.

Finally, just as I was about to pull her to me, she mumbled, "I just want this to be over. I want to return to the life I used to have."

"And you will. Marla's working on it as fast as she can. But I won't lie. It'll take time."

"I need to see my family," she wept, choking on her tears. "My dad... my dad," she stuttered, "he isn't doing too well. And I want to see him before something terrible happens."