Through the dark storm raging in my head, a little voice tried to convince me that I could tell Kaine the whole story, that he’d understand what I’d done to protect my mother. That voice sounded suspiciously like my mother’s, but it was drowned out by the flood of vile words I’d absorbed from my father like a sponge.
I had made it to the door before I was able to force myself to stop running. I leaned my forehead against the door shaking it in the vain hope that I could shake off the sound of my father’s voice. I saw my palms flat against the wooden door, those hated tattoos staring at me.
How was Kaine going to react when he found out about the deal I’d made with my father? Would Kaine agree if he knew my dad hated me? What if he thought being sick was some kind of punishment, that I was an abomination? A worthless waste of human flesh, who had caused my parents to split and humiliated my father…
I felt like I was standing on a precipice. To either side of me a yawning chasm that threatened to swallow me whole. My terror of Kaine’s judgment made the breath in my lungs freeze and I stood leaning against the door. Then I felt it… a touch, feather light, gently running over my back. I tried to pull away. I didn’t want him to feel my scars, to know…Fuck!
To know how fucking weak I was.
Goddammit, this wasKaineI was talking about! My first love, my best friend. Even though we had been apart for years, spending time with him came as naturally as breathing. I’d slid right back into my spot with him, with his family. A spot he’d been holding for me in his heart for six years.
He had shared with me the stories of the weeks he’d hidden in the abandoned rental house, slowly starving as he tried to find a way to survive. He’d told me about his fears, his terror of waking up to find his family gone, again and again… And he’d faced his fears. How could I do less?
I made myself turn back around and I took a deep, hoarse breath that turned into a cough that rumbled through my chest. Nausea swirled in my gut as I tried to get the words out, to tell him what had happened…
“I—My dad, he— he was—” I saw Kaine’s eyes narrow and his jaw clench. I’d tried to choke out an explanation, but the words still wouldn’t come. I felt the censure in his gaze.“Fuck, Kaine! I’m so sorry…” I doubled over with a sob, my hands grabbing my hair in a punishing grip, the pain anchoring me in the midst of my emotional storm.
I couldn’t speak. I shook my head wildly in frustration as Kaine tried to talk to me, but the words were just noise roaring in my ears. I couldn’t get the words out to tell him, so I did the only thing I could do. I showed him.
I stood up quickly and ripped the shirt off over my head and turned my back to him, head bowed. I could feel my whole body flushing with humiliation, my face scarlet as I faced the closed bedroom door. A full-length mirror hung on the back of it, and I could see the look of horror on Kaine’s face. I knew what he’d see, and the shame of it stung through my body like a million angry bees. I’d seen it hundreds of times in my own mirror.
The scars crisscrossed my back, varying in length and width. They started around the middle of my back and moved downward from there. My father had typically used his leather belt to beat me, but he certainly didn’t restrain himself if it wasn’t at hand. I had gouges out of the flesh along one hip from the belt buckle and more shiny pink and angry red stripes that dipped below my waistband from the time he’d used an extension cord. I knew Kaine couldn’t see below the waistband of my jeans, but it felt like I could feel his eyes moving over my body, feel him see the scars that continued down across my ass, stopping just above the backs of my thighs.
Sound seemed to return, and I heard him gasp as he saw my back, then a whispered, “What thefuck…”
I just shook my head as I showed him my secret, my shame. The only other person who had ever seen any of my scars was Vivian, and even she hadn’t seen them all.
I flushed further at the thought. I couldn’t blame my father for all of it. I was the one who provoked him, he’d certainly told me that often enough. I knew there were times when he was just looking for some peace and quiet and I pushed and pushed and pushed. If I’d just done better, been better, he wouldn’t have done it. If I hadn’t been gay, I could have been a better son, a better man, and he wouldn’t have been pushed to this extreme. It was my fault.
Dad’s frustrations with Mom had primarily come because she was always interceding for me. Their life had been fine before I’d come along, this undersized, sick freak of a son. Everything that had happened since then had been, essentially, my fault. My mom dying, my father’s rage, marriage ending, all of it.
Maybe if I had been more like my mom, more understanding of my father’s moods, more of a peacemaker or just generally a better son to him, he wouldn’t have felt the need to take his anger out on me as often.
I finally realized there was silence in the room, broken only by my harsh breathing as I sucked in air through my mouth. I realized I’d lost track of time and hastily pulled my shirt back on over my head. It was only as I did so that I realized my face was wet with tears, again. Fuck. I heard my dad’s voice in my head telling me I was such a fucking crybaby.
I’d just gotten my hands through the armholes and was pulling the shirt down over my head when I was slammed forward against the door. I tried to brace myself before I hit it, but I didn’t have to. Kaine’s arms had circled around me protectively, his chest to my back. I felt his body shaking against mine, but it took me a minute to realize it was because he was sobbing. For me.
“Who? Who did this to you, Nicki?Who? Some guy in Florida? Someone else? Because I swear to God I am going to find whoever did this, tear their fucking arm off and beat the living shit out of them for laying hands on you…” he growled, his hands racing up and down my sides protectively, almost reverently.
Tears blinded me for a moment, and a sob of relief wracked me. Part of my brain scolded the other part smugly. I should have known this would have been his response. Kaine had always supported me, always had my back. I should have trusted that he would continue to do so, even after everything that had happened in the last six years.
I tried to answer him, to respond in some kind of way, but the words just came out as an incoherent, broken babble.
“He—I—My—My mom—He—”
Kaine gently turned me around, his fingers tracing over my face until I quieted. It took me a moment to realize he was wiping away my tears.
“Shhhh… It’s okay, baby, slow down… Take it one step at a time…” He whispered.
The tears finally ran dry and I was able to stop my babbling mouth, and just stared into his eyes. Kaine’s eyes were a different kind of green from his brother’s. Lee’s were like emeralds, all shiny and glittery. Kaine’s were like a deep, warm, mossy green, with flecks of brown and gold surrounding the pupil. I could stare into their depths for hours. I realized, suddenly, they reminded me of my mom’s eyes. Not the same, exactly, but the same warmth and compassion were there.
We were mere inches away from each other. I could feel the hot puffs of air as we breathed and I started to calm.
“Feeling better?” he asked after a while.
“Yeah,” I managed hoarsely and nodded.
“Good,” he said, his eyes still scrunched in concern. “Why don’t you sit down.”
