Enoch followed me down to the floor; his arm hooked beneath my legs as he pulled me into his lap. I couldn’t see, I could hardly breathe and yet he held me together. The steady beating of his heartbeat beneath my head, the gentle shushing as he rocked our bodies back and forth. He held me together until the tears stopped.
When I was finally done making a fool of myself with tears, snot and hiccups, Enoch stood, carrying me with him, and gently placed me onto my mattress. He kissed my forehead and in a soft whisper told me he’d be right back. I felt weak, too much and too little all at once as I lay on my side and curled my legs up tomy chest. My face throbbed with the swelling over my eyes, and I wished I wasn’t so pathetic.
“Here,” Enoch muttered, the bed sinking under his weight as a cold, damp towel covered my eyes.
I adjusted the towel, sniffling, and Enoch’s hand tucked my hair behind my ear. His hand swept down the length of my hair and suddenly froze.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I attempted to roll onto my back, but Enoch swept my hair out of the way and gasped.No. No, no, no.I hated that I couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see what he was thinking or feeling.
My skin pricked with goosebumps as he traced the crisscrossed lines stretching diagonally across my shoulders and back. Enoch sniffled, his breathing loud and shaky, and I realized he was crying. My stomach churned.
“Who?”
I shook my head, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand to my chest so he would stop touching them.
“Your brother or…Los Siete?”
How did I tell him that I’d been punished in the name of God because I was guilty of too many sins? That I willfully took the belting to ease my guilt. That the belt had only changed to a new weapon, a blade, because I needed to watch the blood trickling down my pale skin. Because purging the evil made it easier to live with myself. Easier to live with myself when I was hurting on the outside as much as I hurt on the inside.
I shook my head again, holding onto his hand like it could help me keep the secrets buried.
“Baby, please,” he rasped, shifting off the bed until I felt his breath on my face.
My throat burned with pent up emotion.
“Your dad?”
“No,” I croaked.
The silence dragged and I internally screamed. What the fuck else could I say except for the truth? He wanted honesty, but the truth fucking hurt.
“I told you before. I was…in a relationship.”
Enoch sniffled, gingerly resting his free hand on my hip. “Those aren’t normal scars. Those are…”
“A belt.”
There was a long moment of silence, Enoch’s thumb gently rubbing my hip.
“Was he a member too?”
I shook my head.
Enoch’s head landed on my shoulder. The silence was too loud. He pressed a kiss to my skin and I shivered. The comforter landed over my body and Enoch climbed onto the bed, his hand still trapped against my chest as he pressed my back to his front, his legs curling around my own beneath the blanket.
His breath was warm against my cold, damp hair.
“The other scars and the fresh cuts…That wasn’t your ex.”
It was there, unspoken, but he was calling me out. He knew. Knew I was the one abusing myself these days. The pressure built inside my chest until I felt like I might implode. I finally cracked, another sob wracking my body.
“How did-how did you stop?”
Enoch was silent and I wondered if he would answer me. He stretched his trapped hand flat against my chest, my heart pounding beneath his palm and he shushed me. He didn’t speak until the breath was back in my lungs.
“God, Jae, and a lot of really hard work.” My jaw clenched. “But I had to want things to change first.” Enoch paused, pressing a kiss to my head. “Do you want to stop?”
