Rescue My Heart

Chapter 19

REWRITTEN

LOGAN

'She won't stay if you go soft,' my father liked to say.

The poor excuse of a bastard who liked to knock his wife around.

But even as I hated him, his words still made me doubt myself. Truthfully, I had grown soft since I'd started dating Clover, but all because I wanted to show her there were better guys out there. My own brother had done a number on her.

Now, for the first fourteen years, Jackson was my family. He was my rock in the household, even after my father laid one on me or my mother. But she was a loyal wife, always standing by him, no matter what he did. As a child, I saw it as sweet, but as I grew older, the reality became a gruesome sight. Within three years, my mother's beauty, smile faded. Shefaded away. She liked to say: 'Your father is sorry; he didn't mean to do this.'

How could she love him after everything? Was she afraid of him?

When I was young, I promised to never turn out to be like him. I would care for my future wife properly and love her with all of my heart, as well as our kids. I swore to never lay a hand on any woman or children.

My parents met in college. They both came from wealthy families, achieved excellent grades, so they fell in love quickly, and moved in together in a matter of weeks. After a month of living together, my mom got pregnant with Jackson, and right after came me.

The first time I saw him lay a hand on mom was when I was five. It was in the middle of spring, right after my birthday. I was playing with my toys in the living room, they were scattered on the floor. Father never liked a mess.

I never wanted to pick them up after myself, but maybe if I would have then my mother wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. My father waltzed in after a rough day at work and went off. When I wasn't quick enough, he grabbed the toy I was holding while I began to cry. His face blotchy red and tendons straining.

Then Mom rushed in. It happened too fast. His hand flew towards her cheek before that big slap sound. It vibrated through my ears like an explosion. She stayed frozen, eyes welling up with tears. But the fear of him doing something worse made her straighten up and brace a smile. I remember her crouching in front of me, telling me to pick up my toys or Daddy would get upset. Never had I reacted so quickly.

After the incident, I didn't communicate with my father for days. Around that time, I noticed how my mother's appearance paled every day, looking rather dishevelled. By the time I turned eight, my mother had aged ten years. But none of it changed the admiration she held for him.

In his teenage years, no one asked about the bruises. None of the teachers, not that it surprised him considering Clover's experiences with Jackson. Their school deserved to be burned down. Some kids asked, which is where I got the reputation of getting in fights. Yes, I had my fair share of arguments but not enough to walk away with ugly bruises.

A part of me was afraid of mentioning the abuse also. I'd heard enough stories of kids going into foster care and never finding a stable home. The chances of finding a home when you have an abusive background isn't good. Not many parents need that burden on their shoulders; it's easier to give birth to your own flesh and blood and start from scratch.

Of course, Jackson's outcome didn't surprise me either. He saw my father as a sort of God. I'd shut my eyes whenever I saw him smile when Dad used to hit us. That devious smile like from the night he punched me. Although he never hit Jackson, not once. But maybe it was worse since he forced him to watch.

"I hate this house."

Clover's head shifted on my chest. We'd been cuddling on this couch for the past hour. My brother was out of town with his friends. The clock above the fireplace said it to be past nine. The flames crackled softly, the only light in the room.