preparing myself to leave the comfort of the table. I haven’t told

him nearly everything, especially the darkest times that are locked

deep away in the back of my head, the one’s I won’t let myself

think about. Doug said that’s okay and that I have time. It baffles

me. I’d never really thought about my time. I took things day by

day and was basically living the life my father wanted me to live.

Halfway through, when I’m telling him about how my father

choked me until I passed out, I started to cry.

He’d done it because I’d lost the remote. After hours of

searching, I’d finally given up. And I was never supposed to give

up. I didn’t even fight him. He just started yelling and I stared at

him, which seemed to piss him off only more. His face was bright

red and he was screaming and then running at me. And I just

stood there as he tackled me and wrapped his arms around my

neck.

I remember looking up at him and thinking, Please just kill

me so it’ll be over. And when I woke up from my blackout, I found

myself slightly disappointed.

“So what’s next?” I ask, after Doug pays the bill, trying to

wipe my eyes off on my sleeves as discreetly as possible.

He puts his wallet back into his jacket and slides the empty

plates aside. “That’s really up to you.”

I pile my fork and spoon onto the stack of plates, and then I

stare at the healing crescent-shaped wounds on my arms with

blood dried over them. “This therapist in Laramie that you know, is

he… is he as understanding as you?” I don’t like the idea of

opening up to anyone else.

“He might even be better.” Doug smiles. “But Kayden, you

can call me whenever you want. And be sure to come to your

appointment next week.”

I nod, scooting to the edge of the booth. “All right.”

Doug tosses a few ones down on the table. “Kayden, I feel

like I have to say one more thing… about your father.”

I wince. Over the last several hours I’d said a lot of terrible

thing about my father and even though I wish it weren’t that way,

feelings of guilt and betrayal lie within me. Maybe one day,

though, they’ll be gone. “What?”

He takes his time answering. “I think you should consider

pressing charges against him. What he did to you that night…

there’s a lot you can do to him.”

I shake my head. “I can’t… especially since I might be getting

charges pressed against me.”

“You don’t have to do it now,” he assures me. “There’s a

somewhat lengthy time frame for these things… Maybe it’s

something we can talk about next week. If you feel up to it. But

that’s the key here. I don’t want to push you until you’re ready.”

Press charges against my father? I want to. The idea of

throwing him out to the world is fucking appealing. But every grain

of fear that’s ever been inside me rises. “Okay, we can talk about it next week.”

He nods and then gets up from the booth. I follow him

outside, zipping up my jacket and tugging my hood over my head.

I sling my bag over my shoulder as he gets into his car and drives

away. I stand beneath the shelter of the carport watching the

sunrise and the sky shift to a bright pinkish orange. It’s blinding to look at but I can’t seem to turn away. I keep staring at it until I see spots and then slide my hand into my pocket to call Luke, figuring

I’ll skip the cold, numbing walk in exchange for a car ride. I turn on my phone and instantly feel like an ass. Callie has called and texted multiple times, asking if I’m okay. I’ve been gone all night and

she’s probably worried sick.

My voicemail light is flashing so I dial into it and hold my

breath, fearing what she has to say, fearing she’ll say it’s over and realizing that I don’t want it to be over, a feeling that amplifies at the first sound of her voice.

Kayden…

So Seth thought it would be a good idea for me to write

everything that I’m feeling down and please, pretty please, keep in

mind that I wrote this before the beach, but I’m sure I still feel the same way.

She takes a deep breath and it sounds like she’s about to cry.

Before I met you, I was kind of a mess. Even though Seth had

brought me out of my shell, I still felt so ugly on the inside and

outside… so broken… so ashamed I guess. Sometimes the pain was

so bad that I couldn’t take it, and it’s part of the reason why I’d

make myself throw up. It’s part of the reason why I chopped my

hair off in sixth grade. Why I wore baggy clothes for so long. Why

walking through a crowd sends me into a panic attack. Why I

hated being touched. It was basically the reason for everything

that I did. And it was always there all the time… Sometimes I just

wanted a break from it, but every time I looked forward to see if a

break was possible, it never seemed like it could happen. I honestly

thought I’d be that way forever, which sometimes made me wish

that forever would be a really short time.

She takes another deep breath and her voice falters.

I actually thought about making it short a few times, but I

never got further than the thoughts. I’m glad I did too, because

despite all the ugly and heaviness and panic attacks, it was worth

the suffering because I got you… You saved me from a lifetime of

self-loathing and torture. You saved me from myself, from my past,

from the painful, lonely future I’d set up for myself. And I thought

everything would be okay. But then I found you on the floor… that

night… and I realized how much you’d been hurting and how

much you needed to be saved too. Not just from the injuries but

from the pain I know you have trapped inside you.

I get it. I really do. And I’ll do anything to help you. You just

have to let me help. And I need you to let me help you because I

need you. I can’t… I can’t….

She starts to cry and it makes my own eyes water up. There

are people walking in and out of the café and I’m standing

underneath the carport in front of cars crying like a fucking baby.

But it doesn’t matter. The tears, the pain, the past, none of it

matters. They’re just things that exist inside me like the scars on

my body. Sure, they’ll always be there, reminding me of what I

went through, but it doesn’t mean I have to hold on to the pain.

Scars fade and become marks on my skin. They weren’t originally

there and although they do alter how my skin looks, they don’t

change how I work and function.

Her tears quiet and she sniffles before speaking again.

I can’t do this without you. I… I-I love you, Kayden. And I

don’t expect you to say it back. I don’t expect anything. I just

wanted you to know because you deserve to know and you

deserve to be loved.