Morgan had grown tired of reading and placed the book down at her side on the sofa and thought about what happened earlier. She had seen a whole new side of Greg; the side he kept hidden so well. She often wondered if he ever got emotional about anything. She had been told that he had been very upset about her kidnapping in the helicopter and even gone off on a suspect but she had a hard time believing it since she never saw it from him herself. But now she had seen firsthand that he did have a vulnerable side and the happenings in his life were pulling down his walls little by little.
"I guess that book wasn't as good as you seemed to say it was." She looked up and saw him leaning against the wall of the hallway leading into the living room. He looked a little more rested than he had before. She looked down at the book and then back at him. "I was just thinking."
He frowned. "About what I told you probably," he said, his eyes looking cautious.
"Yes but not in the way you think," she told him. He stepped into his living room and sat down on the sofa as far from her as he could. "How so then?" he asked her.
"You hide your true feelings behind this rather nonchalant attitude. Like right now, I can tell you are on guard again. Before and maybe it was because of the alcohol but you were an open book. You finally took down your walls for a while and let me see that you are truly hurting and scared. Otherwise I would think you were aloof and couldn't care much about what going on in your life. Or is that why you started drinking? To try to forget what you were feeling," she said to him. She noticed he was very quiet and had looked down. He seemed to realize she had discovered he wasn't able to hide his feeling as well anymore.
He looked at her again, feeling a little naked almost. "So you are saying that usually I am a jerk," he said in a cool tone.
She smirked. "See here you go, trying to hide by totally twisting what I said. At least when you are drunk you are more honest," she muttered.
"Then let me get another bottle and you can watch me get drunk again and be honest," he said, pushing himself to get up and head towards the kitchen. She quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him. "No! I promised your mom I would not let you become like you father." He suddenly whipped around, staring at her wide eyed.
"What did you just say? When did you ever talk to my mom?" He asked her, suddenly feeling off balance. She pulled him down to the sofa and looked at him. "She called while you were passed out when I first got here. She is worried sick about you. I can't believe you never called her and told her you were arrested or even beaten," she said in a scolding manner.
He narrowed his eyes at her, not listening to what she said. "What did she say about my dad?" he asked more forcefully. He seemed angry now with her.
"She told me he was an alcoholic." She watched as he closed his eyes and then got up suddenly. He started pacing in front of the entertainment center.
"I can't believe she told you that. She doesn't even know you," he said angrily as he paced.
"She was worried. Geez, it sounds like you never tell her anything. It sounds to me like you are taking out your anger on her and not your dad when he was the one who drank," she said to him, trying to defend his mom.
He turned to her, his eyes fueled with anger. "Did she tell you she let him abuse her verbally when he was drunk? Did she tell you I saw it happen all the time? Did she tell you the one time she was not home on time he took it out on me, physically? Huh?"
She felt the color drain out of her face as he gave her all these new revelations into his life. He was abused? Maybe that was why he had built up such strong walls. "No, she didn't tell me any of that. I'm sorry Greg. I didn't know."
He wanted to stay angry at her. It was better than his feeling vulnerable around her but he believed her when she said she didn't know. His mom had not gone into details. Of course she wouldn't, he knew she would never admit that to anyone but him. He looked down at the floor, feeling the anger draining out of him just as quickly as it came on. He looked at her again and saw she looked like she was ready to cry. He sighed, wincing even as he did so and sat down again.
"I'm sorry I blew up. You just… gosh I can't believe she told you that." He gazed at her with worried eyes now. "No one knows this. I've never told anyone. I don't want them to know. Please don't tell anyone else."
And there it was again, the vulnerability she saw in him before but even more so now. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to," she answered honestly. He seemed to be studying her to make sure she was telling the truth.
"Okay. I'll tell you what happened but it can't leave this apartment, do you understand?" She nodded but wasn't sure why he was so hell bent on keeping it a secret. It was better to let the dark things in your life out in the open. But then she realized the little walls he had remaining would crash down around him and he was probably afraid he would not recover. He still had to know he could possibly go to prison for the rest of his life or, she just realized, could get the death sentence. The very thought horrified even her.
"I understand completely," she replied earnestly. She couldn't stand the thought of being the reason to hurt him.
He rubbed his hands over his face before taking a deep sigh and letting it out. He looked up through his lashes at her and looked pained. "It started when he lost his high paying engineering job when I was 14. At first he started drinking more beer at home but nothing really serious. He found another job but the pay was less and it was a lot more stressful. He started coming home like 2 hours after his shift ended. He would come home drunk. He would go out drinking after work at a bar down the street. The first night I remember being in my bedroom doing homework and hearing him yelling at my mom, telling her she was lazy and worthless. He was mad she didn't have dinner ready for him. The thing was mom was getting sick of waiting for him so she would make dinner just for her and me and let him fend for himself. Well he was super pissed. He started putting her down and cursing at her. She just took it. I came out and tried to say something but both of them told me to go back to my room." He paused, taking another long sigh.
"It started becoming a nightly thing. Mom would make food but she put it in the fridge for him. He would come home, drunk and either yell about how the food tasted or that he wanted it fresh when he came home. She tried but he kept coming home later and later and drunker and drunker each night. I tried to tell mom that she needed to do something but she told me he was under a lot of stress and it would pass. She acted like it wasn't bothering her but I would hear her cry once in a while after he would go to bed. I tried confronting him and he told me to stay out of it and always sent me to my room.
"So one night my mom had a call from a close friend that her daughter was in the hospital and she needed someone to take care of her youngest child. My mom said she could stay for a couple hours and she left me home alone knowing my dad would be home soon enough. She told me just to stay out of his way when he got home and to order a pizza for dinner to make it easier. So I was home when my dad came home drunk again. Mind you, I hardly was talking to him at all at that point in time anyway. I was so furious with how he was treating my mom and how she put up with it. He came in yelling, asking where she was. I came out and told him she had to help a friend out for a few hours and that we could order a pizza for dinner. Well he looked at me and was so mad. He told me to get in touch with her and tell her he wanted her home now. I was finally fed up and told him off. I told him I wouldn't call her and if I did it would be to stay away. I told him I was sick of him yelling at her and cutting her down. I told him he was an asshole for a father and I wish he wasn't around. Well that did it. He swung his fist and hit me, telling me never to say that to him again. Maybe I was wrong to say that but I couldn't stand him in the last few months. He had turned into someone I didn't know.
"As I wiped at my bloody lip I told him he had become a sorry excuse for a father. I was angry still and his hitting me even made it worse. He called me an ungrateful little punk and pushed me against the wall, hard. I sneered at him and told him I was going to call the cops on him. That threat for some reason made him start hitting me, while saying 'no ungrateful child of mine will report me.' He gave me one swift punch into my stomach and I buckled down on the ground, finally feeling scared of him. He started kicking and screaming at me but I was not really hearing him anymore since I was in so much pain. Next thing I remembered hearing was my mom yelling and screaming in fear for me and she finally called 911. She knelt down by me and told me everything was going to be okay. I think even then I was the tough kid and tried not to cry even though I wanted to." He had been looking down the whole time he was telling her his story. He looked up briefly to see how she was taking it. She had tears in her eyes.
"Hey don't cry for me. It's well in the past. I'm over it," he shrugged. She shook her head though. "Maybe that is in the past but somehow it is affecting your life now since you are drinking which seemed to be something you hated seeing your father do. And after what he did to you, I'm surprised you are even drinking."
He looked down again. She had a very good point. But instead of responding he went on with his story. "I ended up in the hospital. My injuries were similar to my current ones; bruised and cracked ribs, swollen eye and lip. My dad, well he ended up being sent to jail. Once he sobered up he seemed to realize what he did and actually pled guilty. He actually spent six months in jail and had three years' probation. He had to pay some fee too. I just know my parents got divorced and I basically have never spoken to him since. He's tried to talk to me but I don't return his calls. My mom, well I guess a part of me has always been angry that she put up with his verbal abuse for long enough that it escalated to what happened. She should have stopped and reported or left him way earlier."
"Why don't you tell her about what's going on in your life then?" Morgan asked him.
"I guess I keep her in the dark as my own way of protesting her constant overprotectiveness of me after that happened. She hardly let me do anything. I felt like I was being suffocated," he tried to explain to her.
"Did you ever think that maybe she was so overprotective because she felt guilty that the one night she left you alone with him that he beat you? That he never struck her but yet struck you when she wasn't there? I bet it eats her up still to this day that that ever happened to you," Morgan said to him, trying to think like a parent might.
He lifted his eyes and looked at her, feeling bad suddenly, realizing she was probably right. "No, I guess I never thought of it that way." He looked away, feeling guilty now about how he had perceived his mom all these years.
She noticed his demeanor change and really didn't mean to bring him down more than he already was but she still had to address his drinking. "You don't want to become like your father, do you, an alcoholic?"
He shook his head woefully now. "No, I don't." He felt a little sick. He had been acting like an idiot and he realized he was acting like his father with the drinking. The nausea rose and he quickly got up and ran to his bathroom. There he threw up from the guilt and the hangover he was still suffering from. He knelt down as he threw up. When he finally finished he flushed the toilet and sat back against the wall. Suddenly everything overwhelmed him, the guilt he felt about being like his dad and how he had been treating his mom. And then the image of Joey's bloodied body came to his mind and he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them as he realized he might spend the rest of his life in prison for his murder. Tears started falling freely down his cheeks as he sobbed on his bathroom floor.
Morgan had been startled when he had jumped up and ran to the bathroom but then she heard him vomiting and felt bad. She hadn't meant to make things worse but she apparently had. After a couple minutes when she no longer heard him vomiting she wondered why he hadn't come back out. She got up and walked to the bathroom. He had not closed the door behind him. She heard him crying; heart breaking sobbing. She looked in and saw him curled up on the floor. She never wanted to see him this insecure and wrecked.
She went over to him and sat down in front of him. She reached out and tentatively touched his arms. He just shook his head but didn't raise it. He didn't want her to see him like this. He wanted her to leave.
"Please go," he asked through a sob. She couldn't though. She made a move that might be risky but she was willing to take the chance. She moved to his side and then wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. She just wanted to comfort him. She didn't want to see his pain. She didn't want to see him this broken.
"Please let me be here for you. I want to help you," she told him as she felt her own tears threaten. He finally lifted his head and turned to her. He looked into her eyes and saw the concern. He opened himself up to her embrace and they both shifted and he buried his head on her shoulder as his sobbing subsided.
She was grateful he allowed her in. She held him tight until he was no longer crying. She felt him move and pull away a little. He looked at her with such big brown sad eyes, it tore at her heart. She wanted to make his pain go away. She could almost picture him as that teenager, standing up to his father and then scared once he started pounding on him. His current bruises were more yellowed now but she knew they were deeper than the skin. She brought up her hand and lightly touched his cheek where the bruise was fading. She was seeing a whole new side of him and it made her want to be closer to him.
"You're not an alcoholic or a murderer. You're a good man and you'll get through this," she told him. She saw his eyes turn down, almost in guilt. "You don't think you really killed Joey Whitburn, do you?"
He shrugged. "I don't know anymore." The anguish in his voice was so tangible. She felt so much for him in that moment she was emboldened to do something that even surprised her. She moved forward and placed her lips on his, kissing him.
He suddenly pulled away, looking bewildered. "What was that?"
She smirked. "Haven't you ever been kissed before?" Her response earned her what she was hoping for. Some of the pain and guilt left his eyes and warmed with some lightness. "I've been kissed plenty of times. I just don't know what possessed you to kiss me suddenly," he told her.
She became more serious again. "I just wanted to kiss you. I would never kiss a murderer, you know."
He studied her eyes and face, trying to figure her out. "You're a puzzle, Morgan Brody."
"And so are you Greg Hojem Sanders but not as puzzling as you were," she smiled softly, wanting him to know she wasn't turned off by any of the new side she saw to him.
"So you would never kiss a murderer, what about a jerk?" he asked her.
"Hmm, I've kissed a few jerks in my life but you're not one of them." He smiled a little. "Thanks, if I become one, let me know."
"I will. Now let's say we get off this hard, cold floor and go back to some comfort," she said to him as she stood up.
He stood up too, but then stopped her before she could leave the bathroom. He looked so forlorn when he looked at her. "I won't drink like that again, I promise."
"Then you should call your mom and tell her too," she simply said to him. Then she tilted her head to the side. "Come on, I'll grab the phone for you." He nodded his head and followed her out of the room.
A/N-Sorry it has been so long. I was working a lot and now I am training for a new position, but during this training period I think I can get more writing done. So hopefully you enjoyed this chapter...if you did let me know by reviewing. Thanks for reading!