Chapter Thirty-One
Mara-Present
Savin’ Me-Nickelback
That was the last time I spoke, until the day my father died. And the day Mara fell through the ice. I think she wants me to speak but it’s been so long. I’ve tried and my voice doesn’t work like that anymore. Besides, if I did I’d probably ruin everything. I want to keep her, I don’t want to push her away. And if staying silent keeps her here, then maybe she can learn tolovelike me the way I am.
If not, then I’m already used to losing people.
I don’t even know what to say.
My mind is racing over the horror I just read and the heartbreaking words the man I love wrote about his childhood. About the dreams that have been plaguing him.
I had no idea it could be so bad.
Jason was sexually abused by his Dad’s friend when he was a kid.
I don’t know how old he was but it sounds like he was pretty young. Whoever this Bob guy is deserves to rot in hell for what he did. Anyone who harms a child deserves the lowest circle of Hell. How could anyone be so sick and twisted and cruel enough to do that to a child?
I think to myself that I have to tell Jason it’s not his fault, there is nothing he could have done and he is not to blame. He’s a victim.
But then he would know I was snooping and found the letters he’s beenwriting. He clearly didn’t want me to see these or know what happened. He didn’t want anyone to know what happened. I don’t even think Dylan knows about this.
Still, the overwhelming part of me that loves him wants him to know that he was a victim of child abuse, he’s not responsible for the actions of two fully grown men who should have listened to him when he spoke up. If he thinks we’re going to think he’s lying, he’s wrong. If he thinks I’ll leave because of this or because he was too scared to speak again, he’s wrong.
But the decision of whether or not to tell him what I found is made for me when the door opens and I turn to see him glaring at me with such fear in his deep eyes. Those eyes dart between me and the letter in my hand. I only read one, and I think it was the most important one to read.
Then, his expression shifts from scared and ashamed to utter hatred. All the times he looked at me with disdain because of our past, it was never as icy and pure as the look he’s giving me now. I crossed a line I can’t come back from.
“Jason,” I say on an exhale, “I didn’t mean to. I was looking for the flashlight and found this. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have read it but—.”
He storms across the room and rips the pages out of my hands before tossing them into the fireplace like a grenade about to go off. They instantly catch on the glowing embers and shrivel into ash before my eyes. I didn’t mean to upset him this much.
“Jason, I’m so sorry, please.” I try to take his hand in mine but he pulls it away in a snap and doesn’t even bother to look at me again as he exits the room.
Following after him, I plead. “Jason please talk to me. I mean—you know what I mean.” He’s down the stairs now but I reach his arm and touch his bicep before he jerks out of my reach. “Jason, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. What they did to you is disgusting and horrible and none of it was your fault.”
Dylan steps inside the house with a bundle of firewood tucked into his arm. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. His gaze bounces between Jason and I assessing the situation with interest and worry.
“What’s going on?” He asks timidly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“I found something Jason didn’t want me to see,” I confess, knowing he’ll want something but not wanting to tell him everything. “I’m sorry Dylan, it’s not my place to tell you.”
I look back to Jason with hope in my eyes. Hope he’ll forgive me and we can work through this together. Hope this doesn’t ruin us. Hope that he can forgive himself. Because that is the most important thing, that he understands he’s not to blame.
“Jason, can we please talk about this? Can we go somewhere private and work through this?”
He shoots back up the stairs and Dylan and I follow, though I wish Dylan would stay downstairs. Jason might be more willing to talk about this if Dylan isn’t around.
But when I locate him in the bedroom, he’s loading my items from a drawer in the dresser into a brown paper bag. Shirts, pants, a pair of underwear, and the gun he and Dylan made me.
No.He can’t be doing what I think he’s doing.
He marches back down the stairs ignoring Dylan and I as we call for him to stop and think, to calm down. He’s so enraged he can’t think past his own emotions. He takes a set of keys off the hook by the door and storms outside barefoot in just his sweats and a thermal shirt and throws the bag into the backseat of the truck Dylan used to scout the roads. He tosses the keys to Dylan who’s also poorly dressed for the cold air and walks back toward the house. I chase after him because he won’t even look at me and I need him to look at me, I need him toseeme.
“Jason, wait,” I grab his hand and he turns around so fast I almost run into him. Fury carved into every line of his expression. “Please, Jason, I love you. Iloveyou. I want to help you.” I know admitting this now sounds silly and desperate but I don’t care. I’m clutching his hand like a lifeline to my chest. He rips it from my grasp and continues his trek back inside.
But I’ll be damned if he thinks he can storm off with the last word…so to speak.
