I lift up on my elbow and look at him. “It wasn’t just being there that was too much. It was what I remembered that was too much. You have no control over the things my father did to me. Stop placing blame on yourself for everything bad that happens to the people around you.”
He slides his hand up and through my hair with a worried look on his face. “What are you talking about? What things did he do to you?” The words are so hesitant to come out of his mouth because he more than likely knows. I think we’ve both known what happened to me as a child—we’ve just been in denial.
I drop my arm and rest my head on his chest and don’t answer him. My tears come back full force and he wraps one arm tightly around my back and grips the back of my head with his other. He presses his cheek to the top of my head. “No, baby,” he whispers. “No,” he says again, not wanting to believe what I’m not even saying. I grab fistfuls of his shirt and just cry while he holds me with such conviction that it makes me love him for hating my father just as much as I do.
He kisses the top of my head and continues to hold me. He doesn’t tell me he’s sorry or ask how he can fix it because we both know we’re at a loss. Neither of us knows what to do next. All I know at this point is that I have nowhere to go. I can’t go back to the father who has rightful custody over me. I can’t go back to the woman who wrongfully took me. And with light shed on my past it turns out I’m still underage, so I can’t even rely on myself. Holder is the only thing about my life that hasn’t left me completely hopeless.
And even though I feel protected wrapped up in his arms, the images and memories won’t escape my head and no matter what I do or how hard I try, I can’t stop crying. He’s quietly holding me and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I need it to stop. I need Holder to take all of these emotions and feelings away for a little while because I can’t take it. I don’t like remembering what happened all those nights my father came into my room. I hate him. With every ounce of my being, I hate that man for stealing that first away from me.
I lift up and scoot my face closer to Holder, leaning over him. He places his hand on the side of my head and his eyes search mine, wanting to know if I’m okay.
I’m not.
I slide my body on top of his and kiss him, wanting him to take away the feelings. I’d rather feel nothing at all than the hatred and sadness consuming me right now. I grab Holder’s shirt and try to lift it over his head, but he pushes me off of him and onto my back. He lifts up on his arm and looks down at me.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I slide my hand behind his neck and pull his face to mine, pressing my lips back to his. If I just kiss him enough, he’ll relent and kiss me back. Then it’ll all go away.
He places his hand on my cheek and kisses me back momentarily. I let go of his head and start to pull off my shirt, but he pulls my hands away and brings my shirt back down. “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”
His eyes are full of confusion and concern. I can’t answer his question about why I’m doing this, because I’m not even sure. I know I just want the feeling to go away, but it’s more than that. It’s so much more than that, because I know if he doesn’t take away what that man did to me right now, I feel like I’ll never be able to laugh or smile or breathe again.
I just need Holder to take it away.
I inhale a deep breath and look him directly in the eyes. “Have sex with me.”
His expression is unyielding and he’s staring at me hard now. He pushes up from the bed and stands up, then paces the floor. He runs his hands through his hair nervously and walks back toward the bed, standing at the edge of it.
“Sky, I can’t do this. I don’t know why you’re even asking for this right now.”
I sit up in the bed, suddenly scared that he won’t go through with it. I scoot to the edge of the bed where he’s standing and I sit up on my knees, grasping his shirt. “Please,” I beg. “Please, Holder. I need this.”
He pulls my hands from his shirt and takes two steps back. He shakes his head, still completely confused. “I’m not doing this, Sky. We’re not doing this. You’re in shock or something…I don’t know. I don’t even know what to say right now.”
I sink back down onto the bed in defeat. The tears start flowing again and I look up at him in complete desperation.
“Please.” I drop my gaze to my hands and fold them together in my lap, unable to look him in the eyes when I speak. “Holder…he’s the only one that’s ever done that to me.” I slowly raise my eyes back up to meet his. “I need you to take that away from him. Please.”
If words could break souls, my words just broke his in two. His face drops and tears fill his eyes. I know what I’m asking him to do and I hate that I’m asking him for this, but I need it. I need to do whatever I can to minimize the pain and the hatred in me. “Please, Holder.”
He doesn’t want our first time to be this way. I wish it wasn’t, but sometimes factors other than love make these decisions for you. Factors like hate. Sometimes in order to get rid of the hate, you become desperate. He knows hate and he knows pain and right now he knows how much I need this, whether he agrees with it or not.