My mind is racing, like pity and guilt are both suffocating me. 'I'm very lovable, considering I have my boyfriend and my mother. While you have neither. So, I guess that makes you the unlovable one, right?'
She pauses abruptly and lets out a small laugh devoid of feeling. “So now, he was left with a dead wife and a child he didn't want anymore.”
Is this why she wants to become a doctor? To stop other people from meeting the same fate as her mother or even herself? Her passion makes more sense than it ever has and suddenly, I feel immense guilt for making fun of her overzealous nature.
“It's not your fault,” I tell her urgently, moving to hold her hands.
How could it be her fault? She didn't ask to be born.
She lets me hold her hand. “The logical part of me knows I didn't have anything to do with her death, but when that's all you've been told…it's hard to turn it off.”
“What did he say to you?”
Part of me doesn't want to know, because from the look on her face, I can tell it's painful.
“So much, so little at the same time. He would go from ignoring me one minute to calling me a monster and killer the next minute …” she pauses rather abruptly and I look at her worried and confused before she adds, “You probably don't want to hear this.” She looks down.
I hold her hand tighter and put my finger under her chin, lifting her head up. Her doe-eyed gaze makes my heart ache. “I want to know every part of you, everything.”
She smiles softly and intertwines our fingers tighter. I take that as a signal to let go of her chin and let her continue.
“I don't really consider George my father. He did what was legally expected of him, like changing my nappy or feeding me until I reached the age where I didn't need it anymore. We never even had a single civilized conversation.”
She smiles sadly. “Adam was the one who raised me, he always defended me against him. He wanted me to run away with him, but I was too young and as a child, I didn't want to leave my father.”
She pauses.
“He never stopped reminding me that I was a monster. It got even worse when Adam went to jail because he wasn't there to stop it, to stop him. He got me those headphones from a charity shop before he left, to help me and they did…but not completely.” She sighs shakily. “It only stopped when I was twelve, when I walked in that day and saw him hanging from the ceiling.”
“You were the one who found him?” I ask, appalled.
“Who else would have?” She shrugs, like it's the most normal thing in the world.
“I'm so sorry.” I feel my eyes brimming with tears and she is still stone faced and somehow that's even more sad.
My mind wanders and thinks of Adaline as a child, walking into her house and finding her father hanging. Having to see him like that and then calling the police because no one else was around?
That's cruel. It's so cruel and I wish I could have been there for her.
“It's fine.”
“This is why you don't celebrate your birthday?” It's obvious now. Which makes it that much more gut wrenching.
She nods. “I used to always refuse, no matter how much Adam tried to convince me, but I did try once. I had just turned eight and Adam bought me a cupcake before going to college after he went back to school …” I feel her hands gripping mine tighter. “I was in my room and before I could even light it, my father walked in.”
Her pause worries me. “He hurt you…didn't he?” Please, no. Say no.
She nods slowly and I feel my heart clenching harder than it ever has before. “It didn't hurt nearly as much as his neglect did, but yes, he did hurt me,” she continues, “he broke open my door and slapped me in the face. He was very drunk—”
“That doesn't make it okay.” I interject softly and sternly at the same time.
George Emery. He's dead. So why do I want to kill him so much? Who lays their hands on a child? Emotional abuse wasn't enough so he had to resort to physical violence? Not only that, but he tainted the memory of the first birthday she was brave enough to try and celebrate.
If anyone is a monster it's him.
“I know.” She nods, rubbing circles on my hand like I'm the one that needs comforting. “Adam thought so too, he called the police that night because he was afraid he'd be more violent, but they didn't care. So, he took matters in his own hands and beat him. He only stopped after I begged him to …”
I wouldn't have stopped if I was Adam.
