Marked by Drew Elyse

Author:Drew Elyse
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2018-05-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

KATE

THIS WAS THE FIRST STEP, I’d decided.

Friends—real friends—talked about things like this.

I still couldn’t face actually thinking about becoming more than that with Liam in any practical way, but I could tackle friendship. To do that, I had to open up, even if it was just small pieces at a time.

That was a piece.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

That was why I felt safe to open up that bit to Liam because he was the type of person that wouldn’t demand more from me if I wasn’t ready to give it. Which was the whole point here, wasn’t it?

“My father was an alcoholic,” I confessed. “When he was sober, he was an asshole. When he was drunk, it was worse.”

I watched from the corner of my eyes as Liam put the camera down, then came over to me. Without a word, he unrolled my shirt to cover me again. It was slow, each motion deliberate. If I was going to bare my soul, he was telling me I wasn’t going to be physically uncomfortable at the same time. When he was done, he grabbed a couple folding chairs from against one wall and set them up for us so that they were at a right angle to each other. He wouldn’t be beside me where I had to turn to see him, but he wasn’t right in my face either.

There were times over the last few weeks where I wondered if Liam missed his calling. Maybe he should have been a therapist or something.

It was only once we were both seated that he asked, “What does worse mean?”

“Abusive.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“When I was really young, my mother was always the target. I think he lost interest when she stopped reacting. She was like a zombie right up until the day she overdosed on pills. Suddenly, he needed someone else to take it out on. He learned his lesson, though. He couldn’t dish it all out all the time, that was how he’d broken her. So with me, he was careful. There were times he’d hit me a few times in a week, there were others he wouldn’t touch me for weeks at a time just to watch me jump every time he so much as moved.”

I looked down, picking at my nails. There was no way to talk about this without letting the memories creep in.

“WHAT, you think I’m going to hit you, you little bitch?”

He was drinking. I couldn’t see what was in the dark cup, but I could smell it.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I stood perfectly still. My flinch had made him angry. Maybe he wanted me to not move at all.

“You just gonna stand there?”

I… didn’t know. Moving felt like a trap. Standing still felt like it would make him angrier.

When I did nothing, his free hand balled into a fist, and I felt sick. I was shaking. I wanted to run, but last time that made it worse.

Suddenly, the cup he had was flying across the room.

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