CHAPTER 47
TERINA
Present
Tormentedthoughts made it hard to sleep, then followed me into my dreams. They started out well enough. I was given a beautiful new home set beside a river with huge windows to let in the sun. Everything was decorated to my taste, and I instantly felt at peace within its walls.
That’s when the dream began to morph.
Large chunks of drywall started to fall from the ceilings and walls. Mold crept up from the baseboards, and sewage belched up from the sinks and toilets. While I’m panicking about how to stop the house from falling apart, a city official arrives with a demolition notice, claiming my own actions have rendered the house uninhabitable. I’d been running water in the yard for so long that the foundation had shifted, mold had infested the walls, and the plumbing had ruptured.
My beautiful new home was going to be torn down, and it was all my fault.
The obvious parallels to my current reality aren’t lost on me. I’ve stressed about it all morning.
After Craig’s death, I didn’t think I’d ever want another relationship, but DiAngelo has changed everything. My heart feels whole around him. The thought of losing him and going back to the way things were turns the contents of my stomach rancid.
I fear that’s exactly what will happen if he learns about the wax and my scars.
I also don’t see how I can continue hiding the truth. He knows something is off—that much is obvious. If I want to try to make this work and truly give us a chance, I have to come clean.
A part of me wants to end it so that the separation is on my terms. I’d rather walk away than know he saw my darkest parts and rejected them.
But then I’d never know the what-ifs.
What if he doesn’t reject me in disgust?
What if D sees all my ugly and wants me anyway?
Wouldn’t the risk be worth finding a love like that? Probably, but the uncertainty is terrifying. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to show him my mottled skin last night or earlier in the day. I resorted to lying about my period, instead.
God, what a mess.
I’ve run on this hamster wheel of worries all morning, and after a bad night’s sleep, I’m exhausted. I’m so tired of the shame and loathing. I’m sick of the secrets.
In the end, it’s weariness rather than bravery that leads me to unburden myself to Isa shortly after arriving at her father’s house. I lay everything on the line.
My marital struggles.
The truth about Craig’s murder.
His mother’s blame.
I tell her the whole awful story, and she listens with compassionate warmth.
“Oh, honey, I’m so incredibly sorry,” she finally offers. Her voice is reed thin, tears pooling in her eyes as she squeezes my hand in hers.
“But there’s one more thing,” I whisper, unable to give voice to the words. I close my eyes to gather strength, sending tears running down my cheeks. “After learning my role in Craig’s death, the shame weighed on me so heavily that I had these episodes of horrible panic. I would feel like I was drowning with no hope of air until one day, something happened that finally gave me some relief.”
I pull my hand from hers, the touch magnifying my vulnerability.
“I know it sounds awful, and I don’t want to make you feel awkward, but I’m so tired of hiding. I needed to tell someone.”
“Rina, honey, I told you that you could tell me anything, and I meant it.”
I nod and swallow back my nausea. “It was an accident the first time it happened. I was up in the night and had lit a candle. The wax … accidentally dripped onto my thigh. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or what, but the sudden burn sort of cleared my head. For the first time since Craig’s death, I could breathe.”
“And you’ve done it again since then?” she prods.
