Kestrel by A. M. Hargrove

Author:A. M. Hargrove [Hargrove, A. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AM Hargrove LLC
Published: 2015-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Kestrel

Telling someone about a hideous part of your life is hard. Opening up old wounds to let the monster out is even harder. Sometimes it’s difficult for even my brain to wrap itself around it, and I lived through it. So I fill my lungs with air and take the leap of faith that she’ll still be sitting here when I’m done.

“You know the part about my father and how he pretty much stole us from our biological mothers? What I didn’t tell you is how we were all abused. I won’t go into the finite details of what he did to my brothers; I’ll only tell you what he did to me. It wasn’t sexual, if that’s what you’re thinking. He wanted us to forget where we came from—to forget our mothers. He wanted to brainwash us. Kolson was the first and oldest. What he did to him didn’t work out the way Langston planned. Since I was the next, he added something extra. He was into sensory deprivation. For the first few months after he brought me to the house, I was kept in a dark room in the basement, a cage really, and wasn’t touched by anyone. I wasn’t held at all. The only touch I received was in the form of punishment. But he never hit or beat me. It was always neglectful things. He would leave me alone in complete darkness, with no stimuli. I would be cold and afraid. When he would come to see me, he wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes he’d wrap his hand around my neck and squeeze, making me think he was going to kill me. Those were the only times he touched me. Other than that, nothing. Just one huge dark empty void. That’s why I’m so fucked up. Why I crave touch, yet sometimes can’t tolerate it. My psychiatric diagnosis is attachment disorder. I vacillate between fearful-avoidant and dismissive-avoidant, but I’ve already told you that.”

“Dear God. How old were you?”

“I was five when he stole me.”

“Five! Good lord. Just a little boy. And why?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “So I would bend to his will. That’s what he wanted all of us to do.”

I don’t notice I’m rubbing my arms until her hands take mine. She unbuttons my cuffs and rolls my sleeves up, so she can see my tattoos. Then her hands gently massage my arms and it feels like heaven. I let my head fall back and the tension melts away. Her hands move to the buttons of my shirt and when she has them all undone, she spreads it apart and touches me everywhere. Her fingers press into my skin as they tenderly work their way across my torso.

“They all make sense. Every one of them means something. Now I understand the dragon with the trident. The trident represents the three of you. And the cage with the broken bars and the sunlight shining through. The mother separated from the child.

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