Page 39 of Carte

“Good,” he grunted. My eyes flew over to his. The cognac in them was sparkling, “They don’t deserve even a second of your attention.”

Hearing his words healed some part of me. I felt lighter than I had been in years.

He gave me half a smile before he sobered up again and pushed, “So, is there? Anyone we should look at?”

My mouth felt dry, but I had to say it. I had to say his name, “Derek.”

Just thinking about him pushed me back into those dark days.

I was positive that life would be better when I left my parent’s house.

I was so sure I was safe.

No more yelling or beatings, mixed with complete ignoring my existence.

While they, or better yet, he ignored me, all I wished was for him to see me. To see the daughter he had. One that did all she could to please him, to make him proud. And when he did turn his eye, and his fists, to me, all I wanted was for him to forget all about me. To go to ignorance again.

It was a vicious cycle, and I couldn’t understand why my mind was playing me like that. Why I was constantly looking out for his approval, for him to be proud of me.

It took me four years of being on my own in the world, of taking care of myself, and countless hours of therapy to understand that it was what he did to me. There was nothing wrong with those needs. It was just something that he conditioned me to, and in the end, it was human nature. We all had a need to be loved by our parents, to make them happy and proud.

And after all that work. After clawing my way out in the light, I thought I was safe.

That I could trust another person with me.

To give myself over to a partner.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

All those nights of crying myself to sleep while growing up should have been forgotten. Instead, they remained my reality.

All those promises he made me, of how we would be happy. Of how I would be safe, and he would take care of me, just as I did him, were nothing but empty words.

But something was different though. The pain was much worse.

I still felt a pang now and then when I inhaled deeply. A reminder of what he did to me. And a promise of what he would do to me if I didn’t save myself.

For the second time in my life, I had to flee a place I called home. A second time in life a person who was supposed to love me and protect me did the exact opposite.

In my dark moments I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Something that I did that granted the pain that was inflicted? Or was I just a magnet for assholes, and that was my fate?

For a long time after I left him, I was completely alone. Because he didn’t just physically hurt me, and he didn’t only diminish my sense of self-worth. He completely isolated me, and vowed a tale of such elaborate lies, even I believed them. I had no one. No friends, not even an acquaintance.

And I kept it that way. I was too scared of trusting someone else.

I went that way until I met Alina.

I couldn’t explain it. But it must be the kindred spirits that we had. A similar fate.

Even if hers was more dangerous than mine, I could see she was running from her past almost immediately.

I still didn’t know why, but it was me that pushed through her walls. Maybe because I could see how alone she felt, and how much she was hurting.

Same as I did with Carter.

“Dynamo?”

I shook myself from the stroll down the memory lane, and looked at Carter. “Derek Brooks, my ex.”