by Theresa Jane
"No, Freya," Liam yelled, almost shaking me in his frustration. "Stop this; you have done nothing wrong."
"I couldn’t help him," I screamed, pushing Liam's hands from my shoulders and getting to my feet, feeling a restlessness surge through my limbs. "I destroyed everything, took everything from him, I couldn’t save him. Then we just left him. He suffered because of me, again. He’s still suffering. I’m the worse kind of poison, a silent bomb you didn’t even realize was set to explode."
"Who, Freya?" Liam pressed, getting to his feet and watching my breakdown with wary eyes. "Who did you leave behind?"
"No one," I dismissed, shaking my head furiously as a stabbing pain filled my chest, keeping the words hidden. Reminding me that I shouldn’t say anything. My body shook uncontrollably as I tried to move around Liam for the door, but he was faster.
"No, you’re not doing this," he ordered, pulling my jittery body in and wrapping his arms around me. He held me in an iron embrace, keeping me from moving no matter how hard I tried to push him away.
"Let go," I demanded, pressing back into his solid arms, trying to get him to release me. "Let me go!"
Liam held me silently as I fought him, trying to twist free using all my energy until all the fight had been drained and my body sagged tiredly against his chest. My breathing was ragged and uneven as Liam continued to hold me close, not saying a word.
We stood there for long moments, my body trembling with unshed tears and memories that just couldn’t stay buried.
"Who was it, Freya?’ Liam asked softly, and I blinked slowly as I felt my heart contract, holding a beat in anticipation, as if it were waiting for what my mind would decide. How could I reveal what I had kept hidden for so long? I had never even trusted myself to relive the memories, so why did I feel compelled to bare my soul?
"My father," I finally croaked, and my heart almost sighed in relief, a pressure lifting that had become so familiar I thought it was just a regular part of life. "I-I…I couldn’t save my father."
"What happened?" he prompted gently, and I let out a shaky breath, knowing it was too late to stop now.
"He was never the same after my mother died," I began as the memories began to leak through the dam I had created in my mind. I had built the walls to keep me safe, to avoid the flood, but I knew it was coming. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to hold on, but I had to keep speaking and trust in the knowledge that there would be someone there to stop me from being washed away.
"When I came home that night, I found him beside a bottle of whiskey, his body limp and his breath tainted." I recalled, remembering the second wave of despair that had consumed me the night of my mother’s death.
Even then, I could feel him slipping. I had always been closest to my mother, but despite our differences, I still loved my father. He only pushed me because he wanted more for me, I knew that, but seeing him there that night, lying in his own filth, I felt another piece of my heart break away.
"I helped him to bed that night and tucked him in. I hoped it wouldn’t be the first of many, but it was an empty hope. It would become my new normal.
"I only had one semester left at college, but I couldn’t leave him. It was why we had fought the night before. He wanted me to take something more serious once I had finished my degree. I, however, wanted to travel through Europe, visiting all the galleries they had to offer. I wanted to see it all.” I sighed bitterly, remembering the dream I would never realize.
"Instead, I stayed and looked after my father every night when he would come home from work drunk and depressed, staring listlessly at everything that had once been my mother’s."
"What about Mase?" Liam asked with a familiar edge to his voice, and I knew if I looked in his eyes, there would be anger there.
"He left as soon as the funeral ended," I answered, another tear rolling from my eye. "He couldn’t even look at me. I was the reason for all his pain; I was the reason he no longer had a mother and had caused his father to fall over the edge of despair. I was just a reminder of everything he had lost." I finished softly, resting my head on Liam's solid chest.
I felt his arms clench around me, instilling in me the strength to continue. I felt the compulsion to get it all out of me. I needed the space in my mind and my heart. I couldn’t hold on to it anymore.
"I watched as the depression consumed my father. He decayed with every passing day until the darkness in his eyes started to morph into something else.
"I watched as the anger built in him until one night, he came home shouting about how she had left him. Then he started tearing everything she had created from the walls, shredding them until his hands bled.
"Everything in the house that reminded him of my mother was destroyed until he collapsed in the mess, exhausted and lost. I just watched, terrified of what he would do once he woke up or when he came home again the next night. There was nothing left, and I could feel him slipping even further away from me, away from the man I remembered.
"I tried to get Mase to come home, but he wouldn’t answer my calls, my emails, nothing. It was my mess, and he refused to help me mend our father." I felt Liam's arms tense around me and I finally wrapped my own around his waist, absorbing all his strength. I needed a break, a breath, a moment to collect my thoughts. Every old memory felt as if it was slicing through my mind and reopening all the old cuts that I had suppressed for all these years.
"Did he…" Liam took a shaky breath before he spoke again and I could almost hear the anger as it rumbled in his chest, my forehead pressed against it. "Did he ever hurt you?"
"No," I breathed and felt some of the tension pass from Liam's body for a moment. "Not at first."
"What happened?” he almost growled, and I could sense he was barely hanging on to his anger as the unwelcome tears threatened to spill over, again. This time, I knew they wouldn’t fall slowly.
Taking one last cleansing breath, I clenched my eyes as the hardest memory of all consumed me. Taking me back until I was there, in our old living room, anticipating my father stumbling through the door at any moment.
I didn’t have to wait long that night but when he did stumble through, I felt a chill run through my body as I realized he was drunker than I had ever seen him before. He was muttering about something as his temper began to climax and I tried to reach for him, afraid of what he might do to himself.
When he felt my touch he recoiled from me, fury in his dark eyes, and I remember stumbling back in shock. He had never directed his anger at me before, not until that night.
"Daddy," I had whispered, my body beginning to tremble as my hand hung in the air, still reaching for him.
"Why couldn’t you have just left?" he lashed out, his voice already hot with fury and stale whiskey. "You shouldn’t be here," he hissed, and I felt the guilt wash over me as my mother flashed across my vision.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, wondering if he had even heard me. I looked up at him just in time to see his raised hand before it struck me. I caught a glimpse of his enraged eyes, but there was something fighting inside him. I just couldn’t decipher what as my body hurtled across the room, slamming into the liquor cabinet, the bottles raining down around me as I tried to dodge the shattering glass.
My heart pulsed with the pain of his strike and my skin burned where the glass had sliced through my skin, exposing it to the burning liquid, setting every nerve in my body on fire and evaporating any tears that threatened to fall as the shock of my father’s strike began to ebb away.
Slowly, I looked up at the man who had once taught me to ride a bike. The man who had thrown me in the pool on hot summer days and protected me when I was afraid.
I couldn’t see that man anymore, and the truth was I wasn’t sure when the last time I saw him had been.
"Frey?" he gasped, seeming to sober up and take in the scene. He reached for me, but I was already up and vaulting across the room, fear pushing my legs forward, afraid of what he would do
next.
I had locked myself in a bathroom, wedging myself between the toilet and the bathtub. I listened intently for the sound of my father’s footsteps. Every noise set me off, shivers wracking my body as I waited for his next move.
What felt like hours later, I heard his slurred voice through the door. His words were muffled by the door so I couldn’t make them out, but I could tell, in the time I had been cowering, he had been drowning himself in the only thing that seemed to be constant in his life.
I jumped out of my skin when he started pounding on the door, shouting at me to come out. Then suddenly, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped, the entire house descending into an eerie silence.
In the quietness, I pulled my phone from my pocket and hit Mase's number. I prayed he would answer, even though he hadn't all the times before. I held my breath as the phone rang. Every beat of my heart pumped despair around my body until it stopped altogether when I heard Mase's voice mail message start to play.
Gathering myself, I started to leave a message asking him to come home, begging for him to come. I had barely choked out the first words when I heard my father return to the door.
I jumped in surprise, letting out a mix between a whimper and a cry of surprise. The shock forced the phone from my hands, and I watched in horror as it skittered across the floor and butted up gently against the frame of the door.
I heard the end of the message click off and felt the tears fall uncontrollably. I couldn’t move from my spot as my father continued to yell and pound on the door until I felt myself drifting into an uneasy sleep. Exhaustion dragged my mind and body from the trauma.
Just when I thought I was going to find some peace, I heard the door splinter.
Every fist he pounded against the door caused it to groan in protest until finally, he broke through with a guttural, animalistic growl, sending my heart shooting from my chest. Shards from the door scattered across the floor as I waited for the next blow, the one that would allow him to reach me.
Then I heard something collapse on the other side of the door. I could only assume it was him and when the long minutes ticked by and not another sound came, I felt my body drift into a restless sleep.
I woke the next morning to Mason's rage-filled voice outside the shattered door. Instinctively, I curled in on myself again, every muscle in my body screaming at me in protest from the position I had been in for so many hours. Every cut was stinging with fresh pain.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and I felt the tears begin to fall again. I was terrified of what would happen now that he had broken through but instead of my father, it was my brother’s face I had seen. A mix of anger and fear were in his dark eyes as I looked up at him helplessly.
"Freya," he had said gently, "what has he done to you?" The only answer I could give him was a small whimper. He cautiously stretched out a hand and pushed the matted hair from my face. My senses were filled with the scent of alcohol as it clung to every piece of clothing and seeped from every pore, its stench reminding me of the night before.
"Come on, you’re safe now," he insisted, sinking to the floor beside me and trying to coax my unwilling body from its hiding place.
Looking into his familiar eyes, I slowly crawled out and climbed stiffly into his arms. He held me for a moment, rocking me soothingly as my body trembled uncontrollably. Then he scooped me up, and my eyes immediately landed on the smeared blood I had left across the bathroom floor. He carried me through the bathroom and passed my broken father.
I glanced at him through my tears and saw a shattered man leaning against the wall. He was surrounded by bloodied pieces of wood, his head cradled in his red-stained hands. Fresh tears fell from my eyes, mourning the man my father had once been.
I quickly found myself in the front seat of Mason's car, and he promised he would be back after he collected a few of my things, but by then I was numb.
I didn’t know how long I sat there before he returned but when I woke again, we weren’t outside our L.A. house. I looked over at Mason as he drove us away from the only home I had ever known and I saw a new look etched into his face. It was one I hadn't seen there before. It looked like fear. The fear of knowing something truly horrific and wishing the memories could be wiped away, just so you could find some peace again. I knew that look because it was the same one I saw when I looked in the mirror only moments later.
When Mason noticed I was awake, he tried to throw away his fear as he told me we couldn’t stay in L.A. anymore. He told me we had to leave everything behind and go live on the other side of the country in a city we could both get lost in. It was the last time I saw my father.
* * *
I felt the last of my memories slip away as I sat motionless in Liam's arms. Silent tears were cascading down my cheeks as I clutched his shirt in my shaking hands. I had never told anyone about that night before, not even Mason. He had never asked, and I had never spoken. Truthfully, I didn't think he wanted to know.
At some point, Liam had pulled us both to the floor. He was now cradling me in his lap and pressing me close to his chest. He was warm and strong, and I felt the overwhelming sense that I never wanted to leave.
I was raw and vulnerable, and I knew he was seeing more than I had ever shown anyone before. Strangely, I felt safer and freer in the knowledge that he knew my secrets.
I heard him whispering soothing words. They filled the silence and kept the pounding in my ears to a dull throb as the pain slowly eased from my chest. I clutched tightly to his shirt as my tears soaked through. His hand was rubbing gentle circles on my lower back and cocooning me in a warmth I hadn’t felt since before my mother had died.
"Freya," he finally spoke, pushing me back in his lap so my eyes were looking into his. "None of that was your fault. Not a single moment, do you understand me?" I hesitated, and I saw pain cloud his eyes before his hands came up to cup my face. "Say it wasn’t your fault, Freya," he ordered, and again I said nothing as I felt the reflexive guilt wash over me. Letting out a long breath, he released me and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, letting my eyes fall from his.
"Don’t," he sighed. "Don’t apologize for me, don’t apologize for Mason and don’t apologize for your father."
"But-"
"No," he interrupted, his voice rising with his growing anger. "Everything you feel sorry for happened to you, Freya. You cannot be accountable for others’ actions. They make their own choices."
"I shouldn’t-"
"Stop defending them. Your father and your brother are the ones to blame. Your father was meant to protect you, but instead, he hurt you, he lashed out at you."
"I was the reason for his wife’s death," I challenged, trying to get up from Liam's lap, but he held me firmly in place.
"Did you pull the trigger?" he demanded.
"No, but-"
"Did you hold the gun and pull the trigger?" he repeated, his eyes determined.
"No," I mumbled.
"No," he confirmed, and I felt conflicting thoughts tying my mind up in knots. It had always been my fault; it was all I’d ever known since my mother died three years ago.
"What about Mason? I-"
"Freya, it’s not your fault. Mason should have been there for you and your father after your mother’s death. He was the selfish one, and he blames you for his own actions. You have done nothing to hurt him but try and save your father."
"But he left everything behind to bring me here," I reasoned.
"He should have protected you in the first place. He’s your brother, and he sat by ignoring the problem, " he answered bitterly, and I scrunched my face in concentration. Liam was watching as my mind whirled.
"It's…it’s not my fault?" I asked uncertainly. The words felt foreign on my tongue.
"Freya," he sighed. He ran a soothing hand through my hair and my eyes drifted shut briefly, relishing the calming sensation. "It
could have been you that night. You could have been the one shot. You shouldn’t punish yourself for being lucky. You shouldn’t punish yourself for being the one to live." He ran another hand through my hair, and I felt a weight lift from my chest. I felt a single hot tear fall from my eye as I teetered on the edge, a gathering wave building, threatening to engulf me.
"Okay," I whispered but as soon as I felt Liam's hand gently take my cheek again and swipe at the falling tear, I crumbled. I buried my face in his chest again as I felt the years of hiding the past crawl out of me while Liam held me close.
"Okay," he confirmed, sighing into my hair.
We sat for what seemed like hours until he gently picked me up in his arms. My tears slowed, and he walked me from the bathroom to my bed.
Gently, he rested me beneath the covers and tucked me in with care. He pulled back and brushed the hair from my face tenderly. His eyes held mine for the longest time before uncertainty flickered across his features.
Seeming to decide an argument in his mind, he cautiously leaned down, watching me the entire time until his lips pressed against my forehead. The warmth radiated through my body and chased away the shadows hiding inside. Like the golden light of an angel’s wings speeding across the night's sky, illuminating the darkness.
I relished every moment of contact, my eyes falling closed involuntarily and snapping open again when he broke the connection. I felt fear slice through my body as he moved away from me and before I could stop them, my vulnerable words rose up and tumbled freely from my mouth.
"Liam, please," I almost whimpered. "Don’t go." He froze where he stood beside me for less than a heartbeat before moving around the bed and lying down beside me.
He lay atop the covers for a few moments before the weight of his arm descended on me. Immediately, I felt my body relax as I brought my hand from beneath the covers and entwined it with his.
Finally, I felt my eyes flutter closed, exhaustion claiming me. I felt as if I had run a marathon without even leaving the walls of my bathroom.
I buried myself deeper into Liam's side, relishing the warmth his body provided. Not a single nightmare dared to invade my dreams with Liam by my side.
