“You little—”
“Little what? Come on, Ronnie. You’re so tough!” I kick him in the stomach, watching him fall to his knees. I grab his hair, tilting his head back, forcing him to stare up at me. He’s glaring. “Not so tough when it’s not your son you’re beating on are you, pussy?”
I punch him in the jaw again.
“Fuck! Leave me alone!” I laugh—kicking into his side, my grip on his hair has to be ripping out strands.
“Leave you alone? No, sir. I’m going to kill you. And when I get out of jail—thisfaggotis going to rail your son on your fucking bed. Worthless.” I spit in his face.
I’m aware somewhere in the back of my mind that Benjamin is watching all of this. That he could now be scared of me or hate me because this is his dad after all. But the rage is so intense, this desire to end him so toxic.
“Aaron—”
“Call him a whore again. I dare you. Go on!I fucking dare you. Piece of shit—I’ll fucking kill—”
“Aaron!” I pause—fist raised, and look at Benjamin. “Enough.” He’s staring at his dad, and I realize the only reason Ronnie’s still on hisknees is because I’m holding him up by his hair. I can barely recognize him. I really—reallyfucked him up.
Letting go of his hair I watch him crumble to the floor. My hands are soaked in his blood—skin split. I can’t face Benjamin.
“Get your mom.” He does and without lifting my eyes once we walk out of the house.
I would have actually killed him. If Benjamin hadn’t stopped me—I would have killed his father with my bare hands. Pure violence. Something’s wrong with me.
“Aaron?” I keep walking across the grass to the truck. “Aaron.” Stopping, I don’t turn to him. I can’t face him. I just beat his dad within an inch of his life.He’s a victim with PTSD. I’m so fucking stupid.
“I’m sorry, Benjamin. I lost it. I’m sorry.” I begin to walk away again—only stopping when I feel Benjamin’s hand slip into mine—tugging on me. I turn to look at him as he stands in the grass in front of his godforsaken house.
He looks horrible all bloody and beaten—shaking like a leaf, eyes as wide as saucers as he searches my face. He’s so beautiful even now.
“I love you so much.” Is what he finally says and I’m so shocked by it—so thrown off that I just stare at him—my mouth hanging open. Benjamin places a bloody hand on my face. “Little Blue Bird.” I’m revived—I can move again. I place my hand over his, shake my head.
“I don’t understand. I just… I just did something horrible, something incredibly violent. To your father—no less.” Benjamin huffs out a laugh.
“Just because he had a hand in my birth doesn’t make him myfather. And you didn’t do anything horrible, Aaron. I sat there and thought to myself—how much do you have to love someone to carry such great anger? To look at a man like Ronnie and not even flinch as you tear him to shreds? To laugh in his face?”
“A lot.” I offer—because it’s true, and Benjamin laughs.
“Yeah—that’s what I thought too. You looked so mad. Not mad in a way that’s concerning—but in a way that carries my pain. Like you could feel it all and knew I could never do that myself. So, you took care of it for me.” His eyes are watering and the tears that fall from the right eye are tinted pink. “I hate him. I hate him so much, Aaron. I’ve never… I’ve never felt so safe before.”
I pull him against me—letting him cry into my shoulder, the box in his hand digging into my back. I’m careful where I touch, how tightly I hold him.
“I would do anything to protect you, Button.” I tell him, kissing his hair. “You’re my one thing in this world—you’re my purpose.”
???
After calling Felix and redirecting him to the Lancaster Emergency Room, Benjamin got stitches on the front of his head near his forehead. The rest of his wounds and my hands were taken care of with general treatment. Then we all headed back to UA.
Felix freaked out when he saw Benjamin—crying and hugging him. And upon finding out I almost ended Ronnie’s life—he laughed his ass off until we forced him into the car with Kayla and sent them home.
The drive is about three hours, and Benjamin sits in the passenger seat—his mom on his lap. He keeps fiddling with the box, biting his lip. He wants to talk.
“Go ahead, Button.”
“There was a guy at your apartment.” He’s so hesitant, so nervous. “Earlier today when you said you were busy; I came by because I didn’t want to be alone and you were showering and this guy was just… laying there—shirtless. Asking me who the hellIwas.” He’s staring at me but I’m watching the road—giving him time to get his entire question out. I have no reason to get defensive and it’s not like he can just run away while in a moving vehicle.
He continues—
“I… The last time something similar happened to me it didn’t work out so well. But it just doesn’t match up with how you are to me and how you act normally. Aaron—please tell me it was a very innocent situation that was laid out in a very ugly-looking way and I have horrible timing.”
