Broken Pieces

11

11

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Elliot asked as he studied my face.

"As long as you're ready..."

"Sam, nothing you say is going to change things between us. I'm willing to hear whatever you're ready to tell me."

I found comfort in his words... his voice... his presence.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, readying myself for the emotional rollercoaster I was about to strap myself to. "It started when I was five. It didn't start off too bad... dad would yell at us and get really close, but he wouldn't touch us. He would look at us like we were disgusting and I was convinced that there was something wrong with me... with us. That we weren't good enough for him."

"Sam..." Elliot's voice was pained, but I wasn't about to leave anything out. I wanted him to know everything.

"I think mom was scared of him-rightfully so-but I think she was scared to leave, too. Maybe he beat her too. I'll never know..." The first tear slid down my face so slowly that it was almost painful. I loved my mother. "He started to get physical about a year later. It started off with him just hitting us every once in a while. I was still convinced that we had done something to deserve it... and it took me a long time to get to the point that I didn't believe that anymore. But then... then it turned into this wicked game to him. I could tell because he would smile this evil smile when he'd hit me. And he'd beat me slightly at first but build up until I couldn't help but scream. And when I screamed... it was like it spurred him on. He'd scream 'Shut up, little bitch!' and hit me harder..."

Elliot tensed. His hands clenched so hard into the rug that his knuckles went white. I placed one of my hands over his and he relaxed fractionally.

"Sometimes I'd hear him beat Laurel, my sister... he'd always beat me first though, so there was usually too much pounding in my head to hear anything... but one night..." Tears flowed freely down my face as the memories replayed in my head like a terrible movie. "We were both in my room... He made us watch, Elliot. I tried everything I could to keep him away from her. I had to watch him beat her. It's scarred into my brain..." I choked off as more tears spilled over my face and bit my lip to keep from screaming out.

Elliot cupped my hand between both of his; his thumb rubbed soothing circles over it. His reassurance gave me the strength to continue.

"That was when Laurel started to use drugs. She was just trying to... cope with everything. I begged her not to. And then I begged her to quit. She began to hang out with the people that got her into the drugs, and I was so worried about her. Even more, I was worried about what dad would do if he found out. Thankfully he never did." I started to shake as the memories I had tried so hard to forget flooded back in and attempted to drown me.

Elliot ran a hand up my arm. "See, darling, that's not much more than you've already told-"

"I'm nowhere near done," I interrupted in a barely audible voice. He had tried to keep the ice out of his voice, but it was definitely there.

"Oh..."

"I knew that mom knew. But there was nothing that she could do about it. When we were in public or meeting his business partners or clients, he would act like we were a loving family. He-"

"How the hell did nobody notice anything?" Elliot shouted. Anger radiated from his voice. He gripped my hand harder between his, almost too hard, but I didn't say anything. "He beat you for God's sake! Somebody had to notice something!"

"If anybody asked, he'd say we were in an accident-bikes, cars, falling on the playground... anything. And it was believable. We were 'just being kids.' There was only one person who ever noticed... who ever asked if he was abusing us. We were at the house and mom and dad had stepped out of the room... we were scared, so we told him no. But he knew. Dad walked him out that night as if nothing was wrong, but we never saw my uncle again. My father... he..." I struggled to find my words and speak them aloud. "He killed him."

"Freaking hell," Elliot muttered under his breath and shook his head.

"We didn't know it then. He came back in like nothing happened... like he hadn't just killed his own brother. I pieced it together eventually since we never saw him again. But that night... everything was worse." I shuddered. "It kept getting worse for another year... I stayed out of the house as much as possible, but that made it worse, too, and he'd always be waiting for me when I got home. One day he was at work and mom came in telling Laurel and I to pack our necessities... that we were leaving. Just hearing those words out loud... we were all so hopeful-so ready to get out of that place. I was sixteen, and that means Laurel was fifteen... Everything was packed and ready. But then dad walked in... he was livid... delirious. He began shouting like he was talking to someone that wasn't even there... and then it clicked. Everything made sense."

"Schizophrenic." Elliot understood everything as I had that day.

"He had a gun..." my voice wavered. "He started pointing it around aimlessly while he argued with whatever was going on in his head. He was shouting... then he... he went quiet and cocked his head sideways and looked at my mom..." My breathing quickened and more tears fell from my face to the rug. I knew my voice was barely audible, but I couldn't force it to be any louder. "He looked at her... and he said... 'You little bitch'... and he... he shot her." I cried for a long moment before I could keep going. "And then he smiled and turned towards us... and he... stuck the gun in his mouth... and he... he..." I broke off, unable to go on. The memory was far too violent in my mind for me to be able to speak anymore.

"Son of a bitch!" Elliot jumped up from the floor, too furious to sit still.

I flinched away from him. I knew that he wouldn't hurt me, but I had learned to do so with my father and the memories were extremely present in my head. Elliot saw me flinch and sank slowly back down to his knees. It was then that I noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks from devastated eyes. I didn't know what to say. Even if I did know what to say, I was almost certain that I couldn't speak. I shook violently.

"Why did you lie?" I almost didn't hear Elliot, but I was utterly shocked when I finally processed his words.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell your uncle that your father was beating you like an animal, Sam?" His voice was almost at a shout, and when he realized that, he sank further, sitting on the ground with his head hung in his hands. "I just need to understand..." His voice finally found a good volume.

"We loved my uncle..." I said softly, understanding his frustration. "We knew dad was dangerous... we didn't want dad to do what he ended up doing anyway." My voice trailed off. I hoped to God that Elliot understood.

"You would rather have kept it a secret and taken whatever your father did than put someone else at risk and protect yourself?" His voice was strained. He wanted to understand... I wanted him to understand.

"Yes," I whispered.

Suddenly, he lunged toward me and I tried to flinch away again, but his arms held me in a tight embrace. I felt tears fall onto my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around him, running my fingers through his hair.

"Sam..." he spoke softly through his tears. "I knew that you were special-knew it the moment I saw you-but I didn't know how special... how amazing you really are... not until now." He turned his head slightly and laid a soft kiss on my neck that lingered for a moment. "I wish you would have told somebody and protected yourself... but you are absolutely amazing, Sam. I don't know that anybody could go through what you've been through and be as utterly amazing as you are." He pulled back and wiped another tear from my cheek.

"Elliot, I'm not-"

"You are, Sam. And I don't know what in the world it is that makes you believe differently, but it's crazy. You're amazing, Sam." Elliot cupped my face and gently kissed my lips. Relief immediately filled my veins. Everything was so easy with him.