My body felt tight, like I was bracing for someone to tell me the same thing again that it was my fault. That I was complicit.
Calil’s voice broke the silence first. “Goddamn it.” His fist slammed against his knee. His eyes were wet, his chest heaving. “C, I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, grabbing his hand, steadying him though my own fingers shook. “You were just a kid. It wasn’t your burden.”
Caleb’s jaw worked, muscles twitching, his stare locked on the floor as if he looked at me, he’d explode.
And Mama, finally, painfully lifted her eyes. They were wet, rimmed in red. “I thought I was protecting you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I thought if I kept quiet, if I swallowed it, he’d leave you alone. I thought I was taking it so you wouldn’t have to.”
I let out a bitter laugh through my tears. “Mama… he didn’t leave me alone. He didn’t spare me. He told me what to expect from men. And you just… You just sat there.”
Her lips trembled. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I was weak,” she said, shaking her head. “I was so scared. I thought if I didn’t fight back, at least one of you would get out without scars.”
The therapist leaned forward, voice soft but sharp with truth. “Andrea, what you endured was abuse. And Calla, what you witnessed, what was said to you, what you carried into your own relationships, that was abuse too. None of this was your fault.”
I let the words land, heavy but solid. They didn’t fix anything. They didn’t erase the years I’d spent letting men make me smaller, quieter, crueler to myself. They didn’t erase the last man who’d twisted me into knots, who treated my body like a weapon and my heart like collateral. But saying it out loud, here, with my brothers silent and seething, my mother finally looking at me through her tears…
It felt like cracking open my own armor and showing them the bruises I usually hide underneath, and for the first time, instead of laughing at me or silencing me, they listened.
Therapy was beyond exhausting, but also the most free I’d felt since we started going as a family. Usually, I did a lot of the listening and supporting as my mother and brothers worked through their trauma because I had convinced myself I didn’t have it as bad as Cal and my mom, but after every therapy session, I realized Calil. I had it just as bad because even when we thought we’d gotten by Sr.’s vitriol unscathed, we always ended up feeling his disdain in the way he spoke to us, avoided us, refused to pour love into us, tried to break us so that we would dare not go toe-to-toe with him the way Caleb did. Today, I verbalized a lot of the feelings I had suppressed and acted as though they didn’t exist, and were still raw, but I was ready to admit my upbringing was traumatic, unhealthy, and dysfunctional. I planned to finish out the rest of my day home alone. I wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone because I didn’t want to make my dismal attitude anyone else’s problem, but the universe had other plans as my phone started ringing.
“Hello,” I answered, the weight of my mood evident in my voice.
Amiyah’s silky voice was like a magical elixir because as soon as she spoke, I felt my mood lighten. “Hey, you. I was calling because, well, I just wanted to hear your voice and see how you were and what you were up to.”
We hadn’t talked since we left Provocateur, and it wasn’t intentional, but I had to mentally prepare for family therapy, and so I kept to myself. Yet here was this beautifully brilliant woman calling to check on me, something I wasn’t accustomed to. I was usually the one checking in and offering care.
“ I…I’m good,” I lied initially, but I decided to let her in because a valuable and worth D/s relationship meant knowing when to let yourself be cared for. There was power in vulnerability, and it made submissives respect their Doms all the more when they made it known they could be trusted to care for them.
“Honestly, it’s been a rough day. I go to therapy with my mother and brothers bi-weekly to unpack the number my ain’t shit father did on us, and today I left feeling heavy but free if that makes sense.”
The line went silent for a moment before she responded. “It makes a lot of sense, actually. It’s like you got a weight off your shoulders that you’ve been holding, but it hurts to know the weight ofthe trauma ever existed,” she said, fully understanding how I was feeling. Her empathy allowed the tension in my body to ease further as she continued, “I don’t mean to be forward or overstep my bounds, but if you don’t mind, I’d love to bring some of my favorite greasy Chinese food and cheap wine over and hang out.”
“Not overstepping at all, Miyah, I’d love that. I’ll text you my address now.”
I heard her exhale, letting me know she was waiting with bated breath for my response. “Cool, I’m putting on sneakers now, and I should be there within an hour,” she said as we ended the call.
In the meantime, I went and showered and threw on a soft yellow spandex two-piece set that consisted of biker shorts and a sports bra. My normal sleek, straight hair was in a curly, messy bun, and fuzzy slippers adorned my bubblegum-pink toes. I let the doorman know I was expecting Amiyah and to let her up when she arrived.
The doorbell finally sounded, and I was nervous as hell to see her again. I knew it was because I was armor-less this time, I wasn’t in a space to don my steel suit and bear my bravest face. Amiyah was seeing Calla, not Dahlia, and not a hybrid, just Calla, and I was wondering if that was good enough. My self-doubt was creeping in, and I was questioning whether she would and could love me when I wasn’t in Mistress mode. Just as more negative thoughts crept into my head, the doorbell sounded again, stopping my anxiety in its tracks.
I opened the door and instantly smiled at the chubby chocolate cutie who was stealing my breath at the moment. She was dressed down in black leggings and a cartoon hoodie. She had Jordan’s on her feet, glasses on her face, and her hair was in its naturally curly state, hanging wild and free.
“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, breaking the trance she had me in, “Food and boxed wine,” she giggled, holding up her arms.
“Come in,” I managed to get out. Chinese food would be good, but before she left, hell, if she left my place tonight, I was eating her too.
She went to the breakfast bar and set the food and wine down, then she eased her shoes off and placed them back at the door. It was little things like that, being considerate of a space you’re new to, that turned me on. Finally making her way to me, she pulled me into a hug that was filled with warmth, kindness, and understanding.
“You smell so good,” she murmured as she rubbed up and down my back, and I hugged her back, and I let her support me.
“So do you.”
“Guide me to the plates and I’ll get us going. I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I got some beef and broccoli, chicken wings, shrimp fried rice, shrimp egg rolls, and my favorite twenty-dollar box wine.”
As I handed her two plates, I asked, “How was your day and I’ll take some of everything, I’m starving and haven’t eaten today.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at me with softness in her eyes as she leaned in and kissed me sweetly, “My day was quiet, I was watching Anime, straightening up around my place, and thinking about you.”
