FSOG: Girl in The Garden
All Hallows Eve
The Day been long, the nights are going to be even longer. This solitary barren desert among the clouds. Right now, I just exist; without hope or purpose. Merely to existence is the souroused of fruits. Without anyone or anything to give meaning to my life.
The waning moon has no more use for this day to stay wanders into the clouds and is gone; Haunt me no more with these cruel fates. An anchor is all I desire at the moment: To give meaning to why I wake up and go to work. All I seek from the fickle muses of fate. My awaking hour have become nightmares of same day in, day out. Soaring, sailing, driving, even the M&A hunting; Bland and numbing: Every one of my sense's turning an unhealthy shade of gray; apathy seeping in deeper and deeper every day.
The witch's hour creeps into view, dimming city lights to casting eerie, foreboding shadows. A loner: Alone and lonely beyond all measure and desires, stares back at me from the window pane. I fear the crowds. I fear being vulnerable, letting anyone inside my walls, and yet; Desires someone to share my world and my life with; Does she exist, could such a woman exist at all?
This lofty fortress of solitude, created and wrought into this perfect prison. Cold imperfect world turns once more without me, against me rooted in this bleak place. That old YES song plays in my head. Although I still doubt, I have a heart: I'm surely the ultimate owner of a lonely heart; if I even have one?
The top chamber bleeds sand, spiraling downward, escaping. Seconds wander into minutes, to hours. Reflecting inward as I stare outward. The Eternal Hourglass care not for my mortal form, my pitiful black soul. My tormented minds inward spiral into the dark abyss. God; Please no longer tormenting my life, brain, with these delusions; I held so true and sure of myself yesterday.
A yesterday is no more than rain washed down the gutters. Lost to the sea, lost in me, lost in my airily prison in the clouds. I want to scream for release; but no sounds escape but the guttural scowl of my pain, grinding my teeth.
Take this pain from my weary bones. I want this day to end. This pain, I've sown in my past. A hundred self-incurred cuts I sown; reaping now out of my body and soul.
The world exploded this morning. Today, the butchers bill came due: All those cuts, sins, wasted sores; Blood dripping out of my wretched body on to floor; I see it plain as day. Jacob Marley's chains and cash-boxes weighted less than these puddles expand about my feet. Dragging me back into the past, back into the abject horror, before I was with the Greys.
Knowing the pain and the misery is just starting. A submissive in the playroom, Master of business, of people; master of all I see. Delusional shards of glass, waiting for my foolish pride and ego. Impaling myself now with the fall of my life. Nothing will ever relieve my angsts, allow me let go of my primal fears.
They're just fantasies; I can no longer afford to hold onto. Or hide behind. Or shield my baser instincts from the light of day. Solve the problem once and for all. Everyone would be better if I soared (in my glider) high and crashed hard. Another delusion, fantasy, pipe-dream. But I couldn't burden my parents with that. Or could I?
My Castle in the sky has fallen. A simple unremarkable, Saturday morning. Like the thousand before it. An attempt at a simple morning run has shattered my carefully crafted cocoon. Standing here in its ruins: Staring out a thousand miles and know that nothing is ever going to be the same, ever again. To my horror: I now know nothing really was what I thought or knew it was. Self-fulfilling delusions; I was safe. I was never safe! I could never be safe! I've never been safe; not since I was born!
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Earlier this morning:
I played piano for hours; the lifestyle and scenes don't make any sense anymore. I'm phoning in the sex and we both know it. I need to run; No use waking Taylor. Him and Gail had a fight yesterday before she left for her sisters outside Portland.
He wants to marry her and she keeps saying no. He thinks it's her late husband screwing him up. She's afraid of marrying again, and losing Jason. I understand that particular known fear. I fear losing Grace and therefore hold her at arm's length. Holding the whole world at bay because I know what caring, loving someone without conditions leads to. I can't afford to pay that price again. Dead eyes haunt me, laying on a dirty floor, a rat-infested Detroit apartment. Telling me the truths louder than family, friends even Fynn echoing "I'm safe and loved." Fears I must accept as my reality. A can never again experience?
Leading to a little tormented, copper haired boy, clutching a piece of dirty blue blanket, laying on the tenement floor. Holding Ella's cold dead body for days. Begging her to take me with her. Begging her to not leave me here alone. Raging against myself for being bad and failing her. If I was good, she'd be alive. She'd have saved me. But I wasn't good and she left evil me behind. All roads lead to pain and misery inside of me.
Eliana's bullshit about I can't love: People in our lifestyle can't love. That I have no heart; then why does the pain of my past hurt so frigging bad. I know deep down what love is, and when I expressed it, truly expressed its full meaning. All I ever got for showing my heart, opening my heart: Showing my vulnerabilities, let anyone inside my walls.
Memories flash in my heart and my mind's eye; Pain surges up. Pain, misery and a dozen quarter piece size burns scars on my back and chest broil into lava when anyone tries to touch me. Taught me never to let anyone in. I loved Ella, and all it brought me was pain; pain I can't bear to ever feel again. Buried deep inside my black soul. Pain, I can't forget, still exists to torment; reminding me never to let anyone in.
All (pain) that left of her love: shown to my young eyes. Her dead form, laying on the cold dirty floor of that dirty barren rat-infested hell-hole in Detroit. Pains and doubts circles my mind. I need to run before the pain overwhelms me. An I become the monster unchained. Tying up my runners. Focus on the run, the business, on everything and anything but myself. O'God, I beseech you, make this but a bad dream.
Entering the elevator, pushing the up key.
Claude wants me to start and finish my runs on the stairs from the helipad down and up. Building up my legs and stamina. Walking out on the Helipad. Feeling the early twilights grays of this fine day: Breathing in the cold biting air of fall; sweeping winds across the helipad brace my face. Feeling mother nature's stiff loving embrace, peace, and oneness with the world. Wishing this fleeting feeling would last. Wishing is for fools and Elliott.
I stretch, thinking about the stairs, the route to Discovery Park and the hundred things I need to do. I trot to the stairwell door. Beginning my exile within me.
"RING" "RING"
Stopping, check my phone. SHIT! The German Company; I'm taking over. The Managing Director is calling me. He screwed up the time difference, again. "Hello, Fritz?"
"Grey, I faxed you some modified proposals. Do you have a minute?"
"I was just starting my morning run. Let me call you back in a few minutes when I get to my home office. Ten minutes?"
"Screwed up the time difference. Sorry. Ten minutes is fine. Waiting your call." He hangs up.
Fritz is a nice guy: who's former COO and CFO screwed him over; forcing him to sell to me. The company his great-great grandfather, a clockmaker, started; survived two world wars, unification and even the Nazi's hatred of his family's pacifism. A technology company specializing in portable Soil Analyzers, Agricultural Monitoring Systems and most importantly to me. The green tech necessary to keep the bacteria's that eat contaminates alive to remediate poor polluted soils into fertile. Their control and monitor for the bacteria; decades ahead of everyone else. Revitalize the earth is a billion-dollar a year leap forward. Pacing down the stairs. Entering my penthouse near the Staff quarters, just nearing the security room open door.
"Susannah you SL$$%T, Suck like your life depended on it. Yea like that b#$$$H." Screams Timmons. I thought a trusted CPO. I hit Jason on Speed dial. He answers. In a hushed bark. "GET OUT HERE"
He's in boxers with gun rushes into the hall. Seeing me. He looks unsure. I jab at the security room. He slides up and hears and sees my submissive going down on one of my CPO. Trust is gone. I step into the room.
Stepping over the discarded robe on the floor. "WELL, YOUR FIRED FOR SURE!" I start on a curse word laced rant at the two of them. All my pain, misery, doubt explode in the verbal abuse of these traitors before me. All that has been wrong is their faults. I don't give a damn if it's true or not. I will feel better to unleash this. Scapegoating them will make me feel better once it's out of me. The sights of my former naked Submissive on her knees. Pants-less traitorous CPO still in Jason's Chair.
"CHRISTIAN!" Jason screams at me. Tossing the robe to Susannah. I turn ready to vent my anger on him; how could you fail me, Jason! He holds up Three Flash Drives. Taking them, seeing the names neatly printed on the drives. GREY, SEC (security), TAYLOR. The three computer servers in the penthouse. Feeling sick! An know this is deeper than simple cheating. I turn my fury to Susannah.
"Please don't hurt me. Mistress made me do it." She scrambles back to the wall; afraid the monster that flashes in the playroom will come out and bloom in uncontrolled sadistic rage. My monster is rising up; I turn to the male; he could fight? I feel the need for blood, anyone's blood will do right now.
Flexing. Looking at stupid muscle head "I didn't know?" Timmons begs, sliding toward the floor and wall, pants pile under the chair. No, fight left in him. If I stay here. Blood will flow. Would I care? Should I care? Vestiges of sanity tingle.
"Taylor's deal with this." I stomp out into the great room, looking out beyond the world below. Calling my IT genius Fred. "Get over here right now! Bring the full anti-spy stuff: I want the penthouse swept, I have three flash drives to hack my systems here." Slamming down the phone. "SHIT!" I flop on the sofa looking out into the brightening sunny fall day. "SHIT!"
Five hours later: 11:00
Sitting with my head in my hands, looking at the floor. I 've never noticed the strange marble lines, patterns on the floor. Four CPOS, all eight of my last Submissive; Three of Fred's geek crew, including Henry, Barney's protégé. I did this. I did this to my company, myself. Deluded myself that I was in control. No Eliana did this to me. I never stopped being her submissive. Being her victim.
I look up and then down to the floor, unable to decide which was better: sub or victim. I'm still stuck at fifteen; and I cry. For the first time since Ella: I cry for my lost innocence. I cry for the lost boy I am, trapped in a Detroit apartment. Horded tears soak my sweat shirt, chill my skin. I'm not safe. I will never be safe.
A gentle hand grabs my shoulder, looking up into Jason's sad eyes. "We need to go into Grey house." I nod. Going into my room: shower. Letting the pain wash off me. I need to get this done; need to fix my screw-ups. Dressing in my best Italian custom suit. Slipping my cufflinks in, straighten my sleeves and watch. Checking my tie. Donning my armor to the world.
Stepping out in the great room: Jason's suited up as well. For all the shit we're drowning in right now; We're both two sharp dressed sharks. I smile my 'kill them all and don't care who sorts them out' smile. Mia calls it my berserker foreplay leer. Jason frowns. He knows how close I am to the razors edge.
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Light filter into the conference room on the top floor of Grey House: the clock spins to 1300. Looking up, Roz walks in dressed as a steampunk pirate. Pissed that I ruined her Halloween party. Gwen's Halloween party starts with brunch then morphs into an afternoon of decorating and cooking. Sliding into a buffet dinner and dawn chasing dance fest. I should feel bad ruining Gwen's happiness? Tough! If I have to feel like this, so can everyone else. I feel myself slide closer to the edge.
"Grey?" Roz asks. I have no words. No words to explain this disaster.
"Roz: We've suffered a serious breach, going back two years. Right now, the butcher's bill is 40-million and rising" Fred tells her. She looks at me for answers. I don't have any.
"Who?" Roz is frigging mad.
"Eliana Lincoln" I says, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. Staring at her. Roz looks shocked.
"We lost eight in security, four PA's,' two executives, and three in My department" Fred tells us.
"Executives? PA?" Roz asks. Those are her domains. Her people betrayed us.
"Wilson in Accounting, Posada in Research. Oliva, Heather, Michael, and Lawrence." Fred says.
"My Lawrence!" Roz screams. Her personal PA; the guy who was a groomsman in her wedding. Gwen's birthing coach. They were thinking of asking him to be the sperm donor for their next child.
"How! Grey! How!" Roz screams in pain. Slamming down into a chair.
Looking up, I know that nothing: I lied about before will satisfy anyone in this room. Including myself.
"Eliana Lincoln subverted them all with sex, money, revenge against me, you, even Fred."
"Why?" Roz demands
"It's' done, does it matter?" I begging her to go no further into my wounds. Please Roz don't rip the wounds deeper. Don't push me closer to the razors edge; my sanity is holding on by the thinnest thread. I don't want to fall so far, I could never come back.
"Grey!" Roz shakes my downward spiral thoughts.
"To humiliate and control me." I say humiliated and broken. All the dirt on me; exposed to the world. Everyone will know what a scumbag I am. The Businessman's cold monster is not a persona, a façade to the professional world. It's just a precursor to the true demons raging inside me.
"How?" Roz is a dog with a bone, she's not giving up.
"It doesn't matter" Fred tries to cover me. Proving at least one person in my company cares about me the person. Not just the CEO, the legend. This is my fault, my responsibility. My chains and money boxes strangling me.
"I'm a sadist, and dominate; On the weekends, living a bdsm lifestyle. I have submissive at my penthouse; I beat and f #$k them. Eliana's my pimp, getting them for me. She started me in that shit years ago. That's why I supported her salons, allowed her access to me. She used that access to corrupt one person after another. My submissive tapped my home servers, Henry covered it up and Security walk it out the door"
"Christian, were they?" She leaves the question hanging. Was it illegal, immoral?
"They were all legal, consenting, and above board on his part." Taylor says, I see her shoulders relax, everyone relaxes.
"How much?"
I look at the growing spread sheet. "100 million! Ten million embezzlement, the rest in blown mergers. The White Lotus, Blumfield, Sutter-Mills, and Silicon-Blossom." The last two were her project. She pounds the table for close to five minutes. Those fail mergers hurt her personally as well as professionally. The Sutter-Mills came with public humiliation of not just her; but Gwen as well. Someone is going to feel her wrath.
"Recovery?" she finally asks.
"We have the offshore accounts; Barney's transferring the monies to a holding account in Micronesian. We get about 14million total." Fred says.
"Don't hold the money. Sent it to charities. It's tainted." I whisper.
"Salons?" Roz asks.
"Break them up and sell them. Turn over what we can to the Police."
"Your private life could come out." Roz says. I hold up my hands stopping her speech, then hold my head.
"So be it! It's time to pay for my mistakes." I whisper. Roz get up and walks to me; putting a hand on my shoulder. "It will be ok; we'll get thru this. We'll have PR salt the ground. Layout a strategy to deal with the fallout. When will we turn over everything to the police?"
"Tomorrow." Taylor says.
"Then we need to get working." Roz walks to the door. Looking out. "Andrea! Thank God you're here. Fred will brief you. Get PR and legal in here within the hour. I know it's a holiday Saturday." She walks out to command the triage and recovery of my, no our company.
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Sunday Grey Manor: All Saints Day.
Sitting in the Grey Manor great room, looking out over Lake Washington. Sipping my topped up eight oz glass of whiskey. I have a finger level left. Everyone is looking at me; since walking in, made my drink, and sat down. Police arrested Gretchen this morning, one of Eliana's minions and spy. Mom is unhappy not knowing what is going on. All the police said 'Gretchen was being arrested for blackmail and extortion.'
Mom sits looking at me; Elliott's looking at me. Dad is holding mom. Mia's still in Paris. All I've said is 'I don't want to talk about it.' All I can do is sit here for hours and stare out the window. Lost in everything I touched, in everything I did, every dream is now just dust in the wind. I can see the ashes from burning GEH, wailing down on the choppy water in the throes of the evening rain.
Dad leaves when his phone rings. Draining my glass and head to the liqueur cabinet to refill. I think this is number three fill up. The whiskey is numbing my mind and letting slip reality. Sitting back down, looking out on the lake. Remembering our happier times: times before I corrupted, screwed up and made miserable. I don't deserve these good people. Everyone leaves me. I'm the albatross of lore. Better without me, then with me.
Carrick returns looking lost and concerned. "Eliana's in the hospital, Linc burned, beat her so bad. They think she'll be a quadriplegic. Burned both houses down, with Eliana in her's." Mom looks in tears; tears undeserved for that evil. That evil betrayed her. That evil betrayed me. That evil betrayed all of us.
"Linc?" Elliott asks unsure what is going on.
"Linc when to he's boat. Set it on fire, tied a rope around his neck then to two anchors. And toss them over the side. He's dead."
"Why?" Mom asks
"One of his friends in the police department notified him; They were being arrested this afternoon. Multi-counts of theft, embezzlements: Sex crimes that my contact refuses to discuss with me. Christian? Linc's last words were 'f #$$K Christian Grey that little bit ##h.'"
"Christian?" Mom asks. Staring over the lake. Rain pelted waters; each drop a knife in my head. I can't tell them the truth. I just can't break the last thread; That tethers me to this reality. This humanity: My family! I can't let them go or let the monster unchained.
"CHRISTIAN?" Elliott demands an answer. Turning to them. Feeling the weight of my sins crushing down on my shoulders. "They got off too lightly." the bitterness rolls off the tongue, and sears my throat. Finally, shaking off the witches hold on me.
"Christian! She was my friend, Our family's friend. She was your friend!" Mom chides me.
Draining the nearly full glass. Looking at them. Let me burn this last bridge, while standing in the middle of the bridge. "She was never our friend. Never!" I bark in pain. The monster begs to slip forth.
"Christian?" Grace demands.
"Mom she betrayed us, all of us. She betrayed you." barking the pain out of my constricted chest. Sucking in the air, I breathe letting it sober my mind.
"Christian how did she betray me" Grace demands, moving to my side. Taking my hands in her's. I see the pain in her eyes and know I'm the cause of her pain, of it again.
"She used all the things you told her, about us. About me. She used them to get to me. Turn me into a monster" Looking once more out on the lake. The die-is-cast. No use delaying the hangman further. Turning slowly back to her. "She made me the pimp, and I liked it!"
Grace wails leaping off the chair and into Elliott's arms. The good son. I look at Carrick stepping to me, a look of pain and disgust etched on his face; the world turns black.
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Waking in my bed; in the penthouse, in Escala. My head hurts, my jaw. What the hell happened. Looking out over the night lights of Seattle sparkling thru the panes. What happened? When did I get here?
"Christian?" Carrick asks from the door.
"What happened?"
"I punched you."
"YOU WHAT?" I ask. Shocked. My father has never hit any of his children. He never wanted to be like his parents, his family. Abuser lost in the abuse cycle. Like I am now.
"WHY!" I demand.
"I worked on Lincoln divorce. Where she confessed that the reason for the beating and divorce was her affair with a younger man. YOU, I take it?"
"Yes." I confess in pain and loathing.
"Also, their lifestyle?"
"Yes." I say ashamed for the first time. That I caused all this. What I did with her, and the Twelve was wrong and bad; never really helped. Never took away the fear, the pain, the nightmares. Just drove me deeper into the sadism that I'd idolized in Ella's pimp; making me the pimp now, the abused becoming the abuser. Transference of pain: A sweet addictive drug to temporally cure the pain, the loss.
"Will you tell mom?" I ask
"She already knowns about Eliana lifestyle; tried for years to get her, us to join her at a club." Carrick spits in disgust.
"Elliott is taking her to her parent's farm. We won't be back till Thanksgiving." Carrick whimpers; "Don't call us, we'll call you." He sounds so dejected and hurt.
Everything I feared is coming true. I've lost it all. Their abandoning me; cutting me out of the only family I have. "Please don't!" Don't let me become the monster unchained.
"Carrick! Shut the hell up; You're doing no such thing." Gail pushes pass him. Sitting on the bed, touching my face. Looking into my eyes: I see Grace, loving unconditional. How I abused that trust; with Grace and Gail.
"Tell him?" Gail begs, Carrick steps back in the room. I don't want to say it, destroying their last vestiges of faith in me. The image of the successful son, the image of a normal son. All the lies I told them.
"Tell him." Gail touch and look makes me believe. Believe the truth will set me free.
"Fifteen." I whisper is pain worse than I've ever felt. As the past rush thru my minds eye. How wrong I was, how stupid I was. More broken now than when she sucked my dick and slapped my face. My introduction into the darkness.
"Fifteen?" Carrick whispers.
"Fifteen years old when she started on me." Wailing in pain and dejected misery. Feeling hands on my head. Looking up, dad is holding my head in his hands. He leans in, forehead to forehead crying with me. "We are never letting you go, Christian. We are family and we will get thru this together."
The emotions and tears come again and don't stop till a needle sends me; Dreaming of the garden and the girl. A dream that terrorized me for months, since before the summer. Now it soothing me. What does it all mean? What did it all mean? Questions without answers. The void opens and takes me into untroubled sleep.
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Thanksgiving Day: Grey Manor.
I've recovered all I'm going to recover right now. The last few weeks have been intense between the restructuring of my company to prevent future security penetrations and horrors of betrayals we suffered. The entire work force was re-vetted; deeper check on critical personal. Some three hundred people are gone, fired for cause. Everything from violating my drug policy, to a Facebook group membership; On how to get in my bed. We've managed to stay nearly completely under the radar to the Lincoln scandal. Almost a hundred people; Mostly West Coast High Society, and even Washington DC big shots. Have had their dirty laundry exposed: from Dom and subs to diapers and furries.
November bleeds into weeks of five hours of therapy; every day, seven days a week. Making twenty-hour days common. Sleep a needle prick, before the void takes me. No dreams, no nightmares. Tearing down my walls, smashing my ego and identity. Rebuilding myself: learning to express, feel, make myself live in this world. I ran yesterday twenty miles and ended up sitting on a lonely road. Staring at the last forlorn bloom of a weed on the shoulder of a barren backroad.
Watching the last bee, feed. The last rays of sunlight, reflect off the facet of the bloom's petals. Feeling emotions, wonder, hope that the bee will have enough to last the winter and reemerge in the spring to make the blooms turn to fruit. How the world passes this single weed by, yet it expresses and means so much in the world. A renewal of hope, life, and purpose. I need to build and have that purpose in my life. Create that hope?
Looking out over the lake: Late season day sailors are bracing their booms on one of the few sunny days of fall, it won't last much longer. Elliott's late, I sent Reynolds to get him from his house in Kirkland. A former one-night stand, took a bar stool to him at some dive bar in Tacoma. Cracked some ribs and broke his leg; He starts tomorrow in a walking cast. I stand frozen at the window; watching happy shinny people float by.
Mia flew in yesterday to help mom with the cooking and support her breakdown; something about Mia is off, dad says. Mom is fragile after Eliana's betrayal and several other so-called friends; We're accused in the scandal. Betraying the family and carrying out a whisper campaigns against Grace at the Hospital and Carrick at the courthouse. Elliott reputation suffered as Eliana kept directing crazies to him.
Even Mia did not escape unscarred. Lily and Candy her closest friends were screwing her over and making sure everyone only saw the spoiled brat and airhead. Several potential boyfriends in high school and college were scared off with rumors of violent ball busting sex and never dating anyone not prepared to spend five grand a date on her. Mia's crushed when it came out. My sweet caring sister's reputation in tatters from falsehoods. At least over the past summer she removed them. Rebuilding her life, but still tainted with a sadness.
Elaine sowed this to hurt me, isolate me. Made me hate my family, myself. How could I have been so blind? Mom is making an effort to bring the family back together. I dread having to confess to Mia about my part in the family tragedy. Today?
"Christian?' Mia softly says, holding on to my arm. Her usually hugs are gone right now.
"Yes, Mia?"
"I love you, warts and all. Ok?"
"Really, you don't want your pound of flesh?" I ask surprised at her.
"I'm not Shylock. And you're no Antonio. We're more like Benedick and Beatrice. But truthfully; I think your just waiting for a shipwreck crew to wash ashore, Duke Orsino." Mia laughs, hugging my arm making me feel better.
"Besides brother, Elliott talked on the phone for several hours about everything. Uhm? You'll get the bill for repairs to your Paris penthouse on the first. Also, the bill to replace all the dish. I? I kinda got angry at what that evil shit did to you and mom."
"Fine. Elliott tore thru the WSU Argo center site with a bulldozer; caused me fifty grands in construction delays, fines, and repairs to the dozer. Seems they're not made to even attempt to jump ditches or mogul [Moguls are bumps that you'll find on some groomed slopes at downhill ski areas]. Its ok." I smirk at her.
"Now? I just need to find Elliott 'Petruchio' Grey, his Katherine. Any ideas?"
"Taming of the Shrew? Really? I get 12th night and Elliott get a shrew?"
"Yes, while you were off hunting for unrequited sex with those submissive 'Olivia's.' Viola is just around the bend drifting lost in a storms wake. Elliot needs a strong woman to tame him and make him see that he can be happy with one woman, and happier still like mom and dad. You need a woman who commands your soul, not just the pompe d'amour de rhinocéros." Mia laughs.
"What about you; Princess Grey?" I laugh at her 'love pump' joke. As we stop at the end of the pier.
"Emma Woodhouse and Mr. George Knightley more suited. As most of my dates of late have been with older men, ancient staid men your age. Might have daddy issues? But I think my man is more Jim Craig, from Snowy River. Rough cow boyish, with a strong shoulder to keep me out of trouble. (Something painful flashes over her face.) But alas, cowboys in Paris and France are Travolta want-to-be's and worthless as him." Mia sadly says
"Snowy river?"
"It's a Movie; you'll like it. Despite it being a romantic drama; it very you." Mia purrs
"Well, Mia? As long as Elliott and I; to say nothing of dad or Grandpa T': well?" he smirks "You're all wet." Pushing her off the pier. She grabs my arm, dragging me into the cold water, with her. We're laughing like loons dragging ourselves out of the frigid water to our parent laughter.
"Well? Who pushed Who?" Mom demands between giggles. We just point at each other and wander up to our rooms to change. I believe, I can grow out of this darkness. For the first time I believe I belong here with my family.
Latter after deserts, sitting in the great room, enjoying mom's music; Soothing bluegrass instrumental. I get up, going to the bar, chucking four fingers of bourbon. I turn to the family. Taking mom's hand, pulling her to her feet. I shake and take a deep breath and hug her with all my might; Letting her inside my walls. Letting her love heal me. "My angel"
"Christian!" Mom moans in my ear. "Yes, mom! I love you!" I say as we break down in tears.