even if you hide yourself in paint,
if there lies a rat inside of you,
the rat will come out
.・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・．
HOW DID YOU TELL THE PEOPLE YOU LOVED THAT YOU WERE TAINTED?
Mother was curled up in her bed - soft blankets pooling around her waist. She hadn't been awake long; only a few hours, and already she looked exhausted. However, the light had returned in her eyes while father was sat at her side – hand grasping hers. They stared at each other with nothing but warmth and love; whispering hushed murmurs in each other's ears. Usually, I would have been the dramatic one and scolded them to stop being 'lovey-dovey', but I was too engrossed in my thoughts and how I would even go about bringing this up.
After our interaction today – with Toby – I had promised him I would talk with my parents tonight before bringing authoritative figures into the picture. While this was a conversation I didn't want to have, and never should have had in the first place, I knew it had to be done. Even so, my stomach was churning and flipping in nausea. I wouldn't have been surprised if my face was green, and it felt like I was on rocky boat somewhere, in the middle of the ocean, wanting to puke overboard.
My parents were too engrossed in one another to notice how panicked I was. Shifting in the plastic seat, I leaned forward, elbows on knees, while my fingers dug into the roots of my hair, tugging relentlessly. Blinking, I barely noticed when a young nurse entered the room in blue scrubs – serious faced. She made her way over to the small basin, washing her hands at the sink - lost entirely to her thoughts. I made sure to straighten up at her presence, clearing my throat to rid myself of the ever-growing lump. When she turned to face me, her harsh features softened into a gentle smile – one I found myself reciprocating.
She made her way over to mother – taking her pulse, asking a few pointed questions, and keeping her eyes trained on her respiration rate. But their conversation and chatter drifted in one ear and out the other for me – my thoughts too preoccupied to pay attention. I knew I had every reason not to do this, and a soft panic blanketed over me. My nails were bitten down to their quick; edges frayed and uneven.
Involuntarily, a muscle twitched at the corner of my eye – my mouth set in a rigid grimace. My foot tapped with a furious beat against the tiled floor. The weather seemed to reflect the mood I was in. Cascading down from the sky, it pelted down against the windows like it was trying to get inside. Black clouds shadowed the sky, their dark glares draining all colour from the outside. Every few moments, a stillness would fall over the street before a low crackle of thunder would roll out.
I waited until the nurse left the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click before I cleared my throat – readying myself. Despite my heart pounding against my chest, I sucked in a sharp breath and steadied my gaze on my parents.
"Mom?" I started – my voice all but a mere whisper, "Dad?"
At the sound of my voice, both of their heads whipped up. Matching smiles graced their faces and I knew they were giving me their full attention.
"Sweetheart?" mom murmured, tilting her head to the side – a frown settling on her face as she examined me, "Are you alright? You look a bit pale."
A breathy laugh released past my lips – mother's seemed to have that ability to read right through their children, without us having to even say anything.
I faltered before forcing myself to adopt a steady tone, "There's something I wanted to talk to you guys about."
My hands wrung in and out of each other - a light tremble in my arms. Both my parents had encouraging expressions on their face while they nodded.
"Of course - what's wrong?"
Just their warm filled gazes and innocent expressions made me feel like one of the worst humans alive, for I was about to wipe that all away in the next few minutes. Was I about to become the worst daughter alive? Possibly. However, I had not only promised Toby I would do this, but I also promised myself. I was going to take back the control he had stolen from me - no matter how hard it would be.
"I don't know if you guys know. . . but a few weeks back, Tyler and I broke up," I started, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Mother and father shared concerned glances - the news taking them by surprise.
"I'm sorry, honey," dad spoke first, eyes softening, "We had no idea. Why didn't you tell us?"
"I. . . I just needed some time to process everything," I explained, choosing my words carefully, "That, and there was a um. . ."
My throat bobbed up and down in anxiousness.
Starting over, I rolled my shoulders back, "There was a specific. . . reason we broke up. I've been trying to come up with ways to tell you both, but I just- I'm not really good at describing anything. I guess I've been going back and worth a lot and wondering if I should even be saying any of this. To be honest, I've barely come to terms with what I'm about to tell you, so I don't even know where to start."
I rocked back and forth on the plastic chair. I choked down the rising bile and consciously flexed my hand, feeling the pain of my nails digging into my palm.
"You know you can talk to us about anything, sweetheart," mom murmured - her voice gentle as always.
Yet, a rush of fear and anxiety clouded my eyes - was I really about to do this? Moreover, was I ready to do this? Nothing would ever be the same after this - how could it? But, I didn't want them to think they had failed me as parents, because I admired and looked up to them more than anybody in this world. They weren't in control of others' actions.
Without taking too much time to dwell on my increasingly negative thoughts, I continued, "Do you remember that night - when I was sick and went over to his house for dinner?"
"Mhm?" dad hummed; his face deep in concentration.
"Well, that night. . ." I shuddered and sucked in a shaky breath, "That night, something happened. Something bad."
Mother ran a hand over her face in dread, while father's face was impassive - a million thoughts and scenarios running through his mind.
"He - Tyler. . ."
His name left a bitter aftertaste on my lips - a name I never wanted to speak again, but one I had to. Tears were already brimming in my eyes, and it wasn't long before they spilt over like a broken dam. The muscles on my chin quivered like a small child's. Waves of pain and agony were attacking my chest - leaving me a few intervals of peace, before crashing into me once more.
"I'm sorry," I breathed, and wiped at my under-eyes. Despite my entire body trembling and shaking with violent tremors, I managed to whisper out the words that would change everything:
"That night, he sexually assaulted me."
With that, a deafening silence ensued the room at my words. No one dared even breathe - their eyes blinking in unison as if their brains couldn't comprehend what I was saying. I sat patiently in my seat, for a reaction - any kind of a reaction. However, the longer the stillness carried on, the more anxious I became and my skin started to crawl like there were millions of bugs on top of me.
Why weren't they speaking?
After a few moments, mother was the first to speak, although her voice had weakened considerably. I had to strain my ears to even hear her. Reading her expression - disbelief, shock and sadness clouded her face.
". . . What?"
"I- I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," I murmured, not knowing what else to say. My eyes were trained on the ground, feeling to ashamed to even look at them, "I just - I guess I didn't know how to."
Needing to see what they were feeling, I flicked my eyes over to father, however, I was surprised to see his eyes bloodshot; lashes stuck together in clumps. Already, they made their way down his stubbled, trembling chin. Red, tear-rimmed eyes stared back at me, with watery streaks falling down his freckled face; cheeks now blotchy and mottled.
"Naomi. . ." he started, his voice thick with an indescribable emotion, "What. . . what are you talking about?"
Neither of them wanted to accept what they had heard - they wanted me to tell them they had heard me wrong, or that I was making this up. But, this wasn't a dream or a story - this was my reality, and now it was also theirs.
Shaking my head, I sank to my knees on the floor, my tears mingled with my gasping wails. Unable to stop, I sobbed into my hands and the tears dripped between my fingers, raining down onto the ground. Red-hot tears ran down my face, each one carving furrows on the tender flesh that still stung from his words, actions and slaps - scars that would forever mar my once-clean body.
It was then, that sudden moment of realization, that dawned on both of them. Mother's shoulders began to shake with grief - hot, thick tears streaming down her pale cheeks. While her mouth opened multiple times to speak, she was too taken by her emotions, that she couldn't get a single word out. Shaking her head, she laid back on her bed - eyes slamming close. Her chest heaved with a quiet sob, and tears welled up behind her eyelids, slipping down her cheeks without resistance.
"What. . ." father spoke up, and I could tell he was trying his hardest to compose himself - but failing when his voice cracked mid-sentence, "Why didn't you tell us before? Why would you keep this to yourself?"
A tightening of my throat and a short intake of breath forecast the explosion of emotion, which to date, I had managed to keep buried deep inside, "I didn't want to have to. . . relive all of this again. I know I talk to you guys about everything - but this was just one thing that I couldn't. I'm sorry. I still. . . I still can't even think about what happened that night without wanting to break down."
Fire of shame and anger burned just under my skin and a deep emptiness filled my heart as the sentiments brewed over and boiled past the seams I could no longer hold together. While a part of me wanted to take all of this back, just so I could see their bright and happy faces again, my secret was out.
But, gazing across the room, I had never seen father sit like that - so utterly deflated. His loose shoulders shook, his hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe away his own tears. From his seat, father staggered to his feet, knees threatening to give way any second. His face was creased in hundreds of crinkles - fists closed tight. He staggered, almost drunkenly, to where I sat, coming to a stop. I held my breath - unsure of what to expect.
Then, he hugged me.
Father's arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me close. Despite the heaviness and nausea in my stomach, I sunk into the warmth of his hug. In my father's arms, there was a sense of safety and security - the kind only a parent could offer their child. His embrace was warm, and his arms felt protective when wrapped around my frail, shaking body. I didn't object - burying my head in his chest. I could feel his entire body still trembling, the occasional sniffle sounding from him and I knew he was crying.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. That - That you had to go through that, and that we weren't there for you."
The words, he hardly managed to choke out as the sobs he was holding in filled the small room. In father's sobbing was the sound of his own heart breaking. While I had been broken in whole, there was a part of that was now breaking too. His chin rested on top of my head, arms clenched tight, like he didn't ever want to let go. When we finally parted, all I felt was an absence as cold as a winter wind.
"Naomi," mother croaked, fresh tears flooding her eyes. She was sat up straighter, watching us through blurred eyes and the pain evident on her face sent a dagger right though my heart.
"I'm sorry, mom," I whimpered - voice cracking, as I looked over at my father, "I'm really sorry -"
"Stop apologizing," she cut me off with a shake of her head. Aside from her reddened face she was extremely grey looking. Opening her arms, she gestured for the both of to come over.
There, the three of us stood enveloped in each others embrace. In their arms, I was safe and my worries disappeared like rain on summer earth - even if only for a brief moment. But the grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by my long intakes of air. There laid a heavy feeling on my chest - like the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders, yet there was nothing I could do to get out from under it.
"Why didn't you talk to us before?" mother quavered, "Why now? Why would you go through all of this by yourself?"
I hesitated - and with a quivering lip, whispered, "It's been weeks of pain and. . . and torture, and absolute agony for me. But, I decided that I needed to do this - no, I have to do this. Not just for myself, but for everyone else who he's done this to."
Father laid a warm hand over mine - turning his head away to wipe at his eyes once more before facing me.
"I'm glad you're telling us now, sweetheart," he grieved, stumbling over his words - unable to form a sentence properly. Wide, red-rimmed eyes bored into mine, almost pleadingly, "I can't tell you how proud I am of you. While I have so many emotions going on right now - I can deal with those later. Right now, I just. . . I want to know how you are."
"I'm okay, dad," I breathed, smiling through my own tears, "I have you both here with me and that's all that matters to me right now."
"I might go kill that son of a bitch," father choked, resting hid face in his hands. Despite the initial grief and sadness that marred his features, I could still note the underlying anger that rested there too. His mouth was slightly open and a glisten of snot above his cracked lips, while mothers face had become rigid, jaw clamped tight - teeth grinding against each other. No words were being spoke, as all I craved was the protection and warmth from the two people in the world who would do anything for me, and I for them.
And so, we sat there, in complete silence - me seeking the comfort from my parents, and them from me. I wasn't a victim anymore - I was a survivor. And no matter what, I would make sure that justice was served.
.・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・．