Chapter 7
Jocelyn looked up at Carson through watery eyes, clutching his sweater to keep him from leaving.
“Why do you cry, my little innocent?” Carson asked, concern evident in his voice. “If you wish me to leave, you have only to ask.”
“No!” Jo, exhaled. The cry was barely above a whisper, but there was passion and determination in the single word. She pulled him back to her side, curling into him. She hurt for the boy that he had been. She hurt for the man he had become. And she hurt for the immortal that still suffered the pain of his youth. “Carson,” Jo began, noting the way his sweater had soaked up her tears. She was forever drenching his clothing in tears. He must think her to be little more than a whimpering child. She took a breath and continued, “Carson, I cry for you, for the pain you were put through, for the pain I still see in your eyes and hear in your voice.”
“You would shed tears for my sake? After all I have related to you of the destruction and havoc I have wreaked.”
“Carson, I can see more in you than the man who fights for fun. I see the man who thinks he deserves nothing from life and would rather feel physical pain than deal with the pain from his past; so you provoke fights and kill those who are not worthy to continue breathing. You do not kill innocents; you create your own system of justice. That is not evil. I see the man who protected me and avenged me and cared for me. That proves your worth to me more than any words that you could possibly provide. I see the man who understands the pain I myself have been through. You are so much more than you allow yourself to see, Carson.” Jocelyn paused, stroking Carson’s hair from his face so that she could see the slight tears that formed in his eyes.
“Jocelyn, there cannot be another girl like you in all the world,” Carson replied in a strangled voice. “How can you see through the pretenses I put up to the man below? How can you get past what I am and what I have allowed myself to become?”
“Because I can understand where you are coming from, Carson. I myself have experienced much that was less than pleasant but has served, nonetheless, to transform me into the person I am today, be it good or evil.”
“Tell me about you, Jocelyn,” Carson said softly, leaning into the hand that still stroked his hair.
“Where to begin?” Jocelyn remarked, letting her hand stop at the base of Carson’s neck as she leaned her forehead against his. “I’m a music major at UTC with a focus on voice and music therapy. I know it probably isn’t a very profitable field, but it’s what makes me happy,” she remarked, allowing a smile to form along her lips as she pulled back from Carson to look into his eyes. He wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and smiled back at her. “I have lived on my own for the past five years. My mom, Alyson, died of breast cancer when I was seven years old, and I lived with my stepdad Andy until I was sixteen. When I was able to get a job to support myself, I ran away and got a little run-down apartment and began working at Stevie’s diner. I still work there, as well as at a small book store called Hidden Heaven, and was able to finish high school and move to this apartment just before I began college.” Jocelyn’s speech drifted off as thoughts of her life living with Andy flitted through her mind. Her face lost color and her breath quickened. His image still haunted her, even though she hadn’t seen him in years.
“Jocelyn, are you okay?” Carson asked, concern written clearly across his face.
“Fine,” Jocelyn said. “I’m fine. I was simply remembering.”
“Remembering what, my little innocent?” Carson inquired, clearly confused about what in her little synopsis had caused such anguish in her emerald eyes. She laid her head gently on his knee, not able to look him in the eyes as she recalled her childhood. He played with her hair, trying to sooth the quaking in her body that she had only now realized.
“I was remembering my childhood, Carson. It was less than pleasant, as yours was.” Jocelyn paused, gathering strength from the man who she had come to know as her protector. “My mother, Alyson, was the sweetest woman I could ever imagine. Her eyes were always sparkling, and her lips never ceased to smile. My father, Joseph, had died in a car crash when I was two, and she remarried when I was six to a man named Andrew. At first, everything was wonderful. He doted on my mother and pampered me. Six months after they married, however, we discovered that my mother had breast cancer. We caught it late, and it was very aggressive. My mother only lasted 3 months after the discovery, leaving me to live with Andy as we had no other family to speak of. He was crushed after my mother’s death and spun into a life of drinking and drugs. The loving stepfather I had grown to know over the past nine months, the one who took care of my mother better than anyone could possibly have expected, turned into a mess of a man, perpetually in an enraged stupor. He came to resent me for my resemblance to my mother, taking his anger and pain and bitterness out on me.” Jocelyn paused, her body beginning to quake as she recalled the hits, the kicks, the sleepless nights when he came to her room. She remembered the endless years of crying and screaming and begging when no one was there to hear her or to care. She remembered going to school with bruises, hiding her face in shame because she felt dirty and soiled. She remembered the pitiful looks from teachers and neighbors who never once tried to do anything about any of it, though it was obvious what sort of hell she was living in.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Carson whispered, stroking her back gently.
Jocelyn took strength from his strong, warm hand, knowing that this man whom she had only just met would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He had proven that already by disposing of her would-be rapists and lovingly caring for her afterwards. She had not asked for details, but his tone had clearly left no room for doubt that the men’s deaths had been less than merciful and pleasant. Tears slid silently down her face: tears of gratitude for finding this precious man and tears of scorn for having had the misfortune to deal with a man such as Andy. Taking a deep breath, attempting to quell her trembling and silent tears, Jocelyn continued. “From the time I was seven until I ran away at sixteen, I had to deal with Andy’s rage and his lust. I perpetually had bruises and cuts, occasionally broken bones, and he stole my innocence when I was only eight. From that point on, the rape was a regular occurrence alongside the abuse. My teachers and the neighbors knew, but no one ever bother to try and help. I lived with that man for nine years, enduring the slaps, and the kicks, and the rape, and the insults!” Jocelyn’s voice rose in unspent anger. She had never shared this with anyone, and, though it hurt to remember, it was freeing to finally let her anger out instead of letting it permeate all that she did. “That man made me feel like I had done something wrong to deserve his treatment, like I was the slut who begged to be raped and beaten! He made me feel dirty and useless! And no one cared enough to do a damn thing about it!” Jocelyn felt Carson pull her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as though he could absorb her pain into himself. Jocelyn could feel his body shaking through the trembling of her own. Tears of anger ran down her face as she clenched and unclenched her fists, remembering the helpless, scared child she had been. Oh the nights she had spend huddling under her bed in the hope that Andy wouldn’t find her and would just pass out again on the sofa. How often she had prayed to God to take her away from that man. But it had lasted for nine years before she had been able to discern an escape. In the five years hence, her life had been hard as she scrounged for money, food, and sleep. But never had it been comparable to the life she had led before. Every day in this life was a gift that she was utterly thankful for, regardless of how hard it may have been and may become. Never would she wish to return to where she had been before.
Jocelyn felt Carson rock her gently in his arms as his body continued to shake. She couldn’t fathom why he trembled so, until she looked into his face to see the tears of fury and pure heartbreak streaming down his beautiful face. His dermaglyphs were black, indigo, and sapphire, allowing her no doubt as to the rage and despair that he felt. He wept and trembled for her sake.
“Jocelyn.” His voice was harsh and broken. He sucked in a breath and tried again. “Jocelyn, I am so sorry for what you went through. God, I wish there was a way that I could take that pain into myself, or to return and shelter the child that you were. The thought of the things that man must have done to you makes me sick to my stomach, and I can barely control myself from trying to hunt him down. I wish I had the words to take your pain away, to let you know that I will never let anything harm you again. Jocelyn, my God, I ache for you.”
Jocelyn knew that Carson understood her pain more than most people ever would. He had experienced abandonment, pain, and abuse. He had lived more than a hundred years since, and still the pain was etched in his eyes. Jocelyn prayed that her own solace would not be so elusive to attain and prayed that Carson would soon find his own appeasement. Jocelyn hunched into him as he hugged her tighter and tighter to his chest. She feared for a moment that he might crush her unwittingly, but then she felt the gentle brushing of his lips on the top of her head and his hands gentled as he, once again, began to stroke her back and hair with the utmost compassion and care.
“I seem to always be falling apart in front of you, Carson. I promise you that I am not always such a horrid hostess and such depressing company,” Jocelyn said, trying to lighten the mood as she sniffled softly.
She laid her face against Carson’s, feeling the warmth of his tears mingle with her own as her fingers wound themselves into his hair. She felt his lips widen in a slight smile.
“You are naught but the most wonderful of company,” Carson said, his voice still rough with tears. He had ceased to tremble after some moments, as had Jo, and she pulled back to wipe the tears from his face her own, knowing her makeup would be ruined. They looked into each other’s eyes, silently vowing to protect one another in whatever way became necessary. They were silent allies, each betrayed by many, loved by few. Their pain drew them to one another, forging their souls together before their hearts could even begin the decent and before their minds could comprehend the folly.
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Hello again! Please show some love if you're enjoying the story! Thank you for reading! The picture is of Andy! :)