You’re a fucking worthless shit, boy. You know that?
What the fuck’re ya crying for?
Little asshole.
Mama’s boy. Ain’t nothing ever gonna come of a shithead like you.
The voice crowds my ears, and I cover them with my hands.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck my old man.
The adult in me, the mature man who’s beaten, shot, and stolen to survive, takes over.
I’m powerful.
I’m strong.
He can’t hurt me.
Not anymore.
I open my eyes at the feel of tiny fingers tugging on the ankle of my pant leg. I go bug-eyed at little Aurora. She’s got the end of a baby bottle gripped between tiny budding teeth, and her hands are covered in drool and God only knows what. She’s leaving wet marks on my sweats, and she’s babbling behind her bottle.
“Maamaa maaa maaa, maaa maaa.”
A fist closes around my heart, and I watch as she crawls around my feet, tugging at my pant leg.
I can’t look at her.
I can’t face this.
All I can picture is the kid I once was, vulnerable and soft and innocent like her.
And then I see the fucker who hated me so much, who had so much rage inside him that he looked at a vulnerable kid—maybe not a baby like Aurora, but a three-year-old, a five-year-old, a ten-year-old—and laid hands on him.
Fists.
Boots.
Whatever was within reach.
I swallow back the memories and the rage as I look into those crystal-blue baby eyes.
“How?” I whisper through the haze of my past. “How could he not fucking love me?”
Claire is dabbing at her eyes, watching her baby crawl around my bare toes. “He did, baby,” she assures me, her eyes reddening with tears. “He hated himself, that’s all. And he took that all out on you. You’re not him. You’re not filled with hate. You’re filled with somuch more. Love and kindness. I know what I’m talking about, Savage. He hated himself, but it was so much easier to act like he hated you.”
I bend at the waist and stifle the curse of pain that reminds me my ribs are still fucked up. I look into little Aurora’s eyes. I see Grandma Dawn, the woman I’ve spent the last week watching on YouTube with Claire, in her coloring. I see Claire in her round cheeks and pointed chin. I know Anthony is there too, but I refuse to see him. Refuse to see anything but love, innocence, patience, and sweetness.
“Maa-maaa?” Aurora takes the bottle of formula out of her mouth and holds it up to me. She can’t walk yet, so I’m not sure what she wants me to do. I look to Claire for guidance.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asks. Her voice is a whisper, restrained emotion making the words come out slow and thin.
I shake my head. “No. No fucking way.”
