Chapter 22

Breathe

"Your father, is getting out on probation."

In an instant, I was six years old again. It was my birthday, and my father would barge in drunkenly. And I couldn't understand why his eyes held so much rage as he held my mother in a chokehold. I couldn't understand where my father had gone to and why this strange man, who looked so much like him, hurt my mother. I didn't understand why he, who said he loved us so much, hurt us every day.

My father was a kind man.

He was the one that tucked me in at night, and the reason why there were no monsters lurking under my bed. He was the one that read me three- and sometimes four- bedtime stories before I fell asleep every single day. He was the one that snuck sweets to me when my mother said I had one too many. He was the one that kissed away all my stomach aches, and made my open cuts, both emotional and physical, feel all better.

He was the one that brought flowers to my mother almost every other day simply because it reminded of her. He was the one that cleaned the house and cooked for us when she had a bad day. She called him "her pop of color" in her life. The orchids, the roses, the pictures. He was the color of our lives.

But in an instant, he was taken away from us.

My father became the monster lurking under my bed. He was the monster in the shadows that didn't let me sleep.

I fell to the floor, clutching my chest, right where my heart was. I couldn't breathe.

My mother rushed to my side. She clutched my arms and forced me to look at her face. "Honey, breathe with me." I shook my head helplessly. I couldn't stop the images of 10 years of abuse hitting me all at one. I was feeling it all. I remembered in detail every single day of living with that wretched man.

"He can't hurt us." I felt my eyes get watery as I tried to breathe but still couldn't. I wanted to believe her so much. But at any second, our front door would open, and it'd be him. It'd be the monster my father became.

"He's not here." I focused on my mother's mouth. As she exhaled in and out. My lungs were caving in, and it felt like my heart was becoming so small but so loud. I had a lump on my throat, of sobs that wanted to scream. My eyes were watery with tears that wanted to flow. But I couldn't let out the cries, and I couldn't cry. I was all out. I was just so tired of it all.

When was he was he going to leave us alone?

"He can't hurt us," my mother stated desperately, "and you know why?"

She now had a hold of my face. Her hands firmly held my face, making sure I was looking at her. Determined and hopeful eyes stared at me. Her loving gaze brought my focus back for a second, and in that second, I was able to breathe.

"He can't hurt us because he can't come near us." I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "He has restraining order, so if he comes near us again, he will go back to jail."

When had she put in that order and why did she never tell me? I didn't question it and nodded. "What about the letter?" I whispered.

"He won't be sending them again. His mother was able to get our address and she's the one sending the letters on behalf of Trent."

My grandmother, when Trent went to jail, cut ties with us. She adamantly did not believe that her only son would do such a thing. She threatened my mother to not press any charges. She threatened her while my mother was in a hospital bed with a black eye and 20 staples to help heal the gash on her head. She threatened her while her only grandchild was in the room, in a bed next to her mother, with a bandage around her leg and back brace since her son almost broke her back.

"There are more letters?"

"Yes," she tenderly caressed my cheek, "but I didn't open them. I used them as evidence that Trent was not obliging to the restraining order and that his mother is helping him. This is the last letter she sent." She looked at the letter I was clutching on my hand. I nodded.

"Why didn't tell me?" I pleaded and she smiled ashamed. "We promised that if we were going to deal with Trent again, we would do it together."

"I know, honey," her eyes were glossy, and I wanted to soothe the pain away, "but I didn't want you to worry. This was something I could deal on my own."

"But we should've dealt with it together." I now understood why she wanted to get away on Tuesday; why she broke down on Monday; why she was anxious every time I picked up the mail or why she would try to do it before I did. All this time, she was dealing with this. Again, like always, she was trying to protect me at the cost of her sanity.

"No more secrets between us, please," my mother nodded and brought me into an embrace. We held each other for what seem like forever. Neither of us of cried. Neither of us let a tear roll down.

As I threw myself on my bed, comfort didn't find me as it usually did when I had a long and tiring day, especially when I had day like this. My room was dark, and for once, I stared at the void on my ceiling. I didn't shiver. I didn't close my eyes to hide from the darkness. Despicable memories found their way to me, but I didn't force them out. I let them consume me.

I didn't cry.

I was too exhausted of always dancing the same tune at night. I was sick of his shadow mocking me in the dark.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I haphazardly took it out and read the message. I smiled. Slowly, the memories hammering on my head disappeared.

Eddie: You'll read this in the morning but CONFIRMED. Jake Madsen peed his pants as he was unable to face the wrath of my beautiful Loren Tate.

Without trying, without knowing, he made me feel better. Eddie's text lifted my spirits up and gave me a surge of energy to get up and do my night routine.

That night I battled my nightmares with memories of my mother, Melissa and Eddie. I thought of times I felt light and happy. And slowly, I fell into deep slumber as my nightmares silenced.

But not for a moment did I forget that Trent McCall was out and free, and who knows what he was plotting.

Monday 11 A.M.

My first day back since Adriana's ambush was fortunately very uneventful. While I'm sure perhaps the entire school knew about it, they opted to leave me alone. I still felt the questioning gazes and looks filled with pity staring at me. Some did approach me, but only to ask about Eddie Duran and how I knew him. I kept it curt. It disappointed them to no end, but they let it be and, most importantly, they let me be.

Melissa was with me as much as she could. She said, I quote, "Everyone knows about you and Eddie Duran. And I need you protect you from all the crazies in this school." And then she proceeded to give me her hourly rate for her bodyguard duty and show me some of her karate chops. She almost broke a nail in the process.

I didn't see Emily nor Cameron, and neither of Adriana's clique.

My mom and Eddie called to check in around 10:30 A.M. to make sure I was okay. My mom's call was fast, but Eddie liked to annoy me to no end via phone call.

He spent five minutes describing me in detail to what he would be doing to me if I hadn't gone back to school today. I was walking to class flustered and hissing at him to stop it. Many gave me questioning looks at my hot tomato face, I think even my ears were red.

"Just kidding, I would've probably taken you to one of my recording sessions." He said but then restated, "actually, that and I would tell everyone to get out and we would…" And then he proceeded to recant again the five minutes that transformed me into Kirby. Our conversation ended when he had to excuse himself because he got too hot all the sudden.

I'm dating a hormonal rock star.

I sat next to Melissa and opened a container containing my sandwich. It was lunchtime as the boisterous noises coming from freshman and sophomores indicated.

"Are you okay?" Melissa questioned as I saw down.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Because you keep looking around you," she cocked her head to the side, "are you looking for someone?"

Melissa was very perceptive. If anyone can smell BS instantly, it would be her. She said she wanted to be a film producer, but honestly, she would do great as a criminal scene investigator. She would also be a fashionable one.

I had told Melissa a couple days ago, day after I came back from the impromptu trip, that my mom was shaken up about something. We had inferred that maybe it had to do about Trent, and now it's all mocking me. Back then, it was highly unlikely that it was Trent making my mother break down in the middle of the day. And I wasn't ready to tell anyone just yet about Trent McCall being out of jail, including Eddie. It made it too real if I did.

"Not really," I mumbled, but Melissa didn't believe me, "I wanted to talk to Emily, but I haven't seen her today."

She nodded believing my white lie. I was looking for Emily, that much was true. But I was also hyper-paranoid that I would see Trent standing in a corner, staring at me.

"I don't really believe you, but I'll let it slide because God knows that forcing anything out of you is as useless as sending one million letters to the Game of Thrones producers to change that last season."

She exhaled out pensively, "Is it Adriana you're worried about?"

"No," I said between chews, "I haven't really thought about her."

"Aha!" Melissa exclaimed, surprising me. "So, you are worried about something."

I rolled my eyes and nudged her. "Stop that."

"Okay, okay," she mumbled dejectedly. She was pensive again.

"Eddie wants me to meet his friends. Can you come with me to meet them?"

"Didn't you already meet them at Max Duran's bar?"

"Yeah, but formally meet them. I didn't really get to talk to them."

Melissa nodded, and I didn't miss the blush she tried to hide. "Yeah, sure. I can come with you. When is it?"

"Eddie hasn't given me a date yet, but I'll let you know as soon as he does."

"Great," she smiled, and I wondered who she was thinking about. Ian or Tyler?

"Will Ian be there?" Ah, there was my answer. Melissa asked and I was confused as to why my very confident friend was so nervous asking about a boy.

"Yes, he will be there." Melissa was all the sudden cheerful. And while I finished my lunch, she talked my ear off.

"I don't understand," Melissa somberly said out of nowhere, "how someone's life could suck so bad they go out of their way to make others miserable."

I was quiet for a moment, not quite understanding her sudden shift of mood and topic as we were talking about mystical dragons and witches a minute ago. But I knew she was referring to Adriana.

"I find it kind of sad, actually. We don't know what she's going through. Maybe she has her own battles to fight."

"Yeah, maybe," Melissa looked at me from the corner of her eyes, "but that doesn't excuse her for being a shitty person to you or anyone she takes her claws out on."

"People react differently to traumatic or life changing situations. You know, maybe once a upon a time, Adriana was the sweetest girl."

Melissa let out a forced laugh, "Perhaps she was, but I highly doubt it. I've known her since Pre-K, and she has always been like this." We stopped walking as she closed her eyes for a second. "Your past or current situation doesn't define you, what defines is how you treat others, with or without knowing them."

"But," I stared at Melissa intently as I thought of a little Adriana Masters asking for her mother who just abandoned her, "some situations make it really difficult for someone to forgive how the world has treated them."

"I can't believe you are defending Adriana Masters after what she did to you," Melissa let out a dry incredulous chuckle. "You know, Loren," Melissa hesitated for second, and I held my breath for what she would say next because Melissa Sanders never hesitates, "you and Adriana have a lot in common when it comes to parents abandoning you. Because Trent," she stopped as she studied my reaction; I nodded for her to go on, she continued, "in a sense abandoned you the minute he stopped being a father to you. And out of all the people in this school, Adriana is the one who understands you the most, and vice versa. But she decides to bully and mistreat others, and Loren, that speaks decibels to what it says about her as a person."

The bell rung, indicating that lunch period ended. Melissa and I stood up, picking up our things.

"Why are you telling me this?" We started to make our way to calculus.

"I sometimes get the feeling that you think that you are no different than Adriana Masters."

"That's not-" Melissa shook her head, warning me that I had told her enough lies for today. I could not evade this conversation; I will have to let her into my thoughts.

"Why? You are nothing alike."

"Not in the sense that you're thinking of," I stated. Melissa was contemplative.

I swallowed as I peeled a layer of myself for this wonderful human in front of me. For a moment, I let myself be vulnerable. "We both carry so much rage inside."

Melissa sighed and nodded. I explained myself further, "But where the line is defined between us is that her rage causes her to lash out and emotionally – and at times physically – abuse others. I just keep it inside."

"And you're afraid that one day all your rage will blow up."

It wasn't a question, but I answered regardless, "Yes." And then I'll realize I'm not so different from Trent McCall.

"And you're afraid you'll hurt someone in the process."

"Yes."

"Hm," she hummed and then smiled at me, "I'll slap you silly the minute you decide to run away."

Her statement stunned me, "Melissa, I don't think you understand-"

"I understand, but what you don't understand is that you have people that love you so much. And if you think for a second, we will allow you to self-destruct, then Loren Tate, you are very dense, and I will slap you silly to tighten those screws in your head."

We stopped in front of the classroom. I stared at her incredulous of her reaction after I told her I was a ticking time-bomb. She gave me a determined look before she pushed me inside the class, and I couldn't help for a smile to form.

3:00 P.M.

"Hi, honey, how was school?"

My mother startled me as I entered my house. She was early today, she usually got home around six. I saw how she looked at me heedfully. Every movement I took, she analyzed it.

"It was fine. You're home early." I put my bookbag on the dining table chair.

"I asked to leave early today."

"Why?" Her strained smile answered my question. She was worried about me after yesterday. She was concerned to how I was dealing with the fact that Trent was free.

"Are you okay?" Although appreciated, her concern was not necessary. Couldn't she see I was fine?

"I'm great," I stated. And she looked at me doubtfully.

"Okay… if you say so." I nodded and made my way to the room. If I stayed there any longer, she would want to talk about yesterday's event. I didn't want to talk about it. There really wasn't much to talk about. Sure, he was free, but he couldn't get close to us. He had a restraining order, so it was against the law to come near us. If he did, it would mean he will probably get locked up again. I'm sure he wouldn't want to spend another day in jail. But prison probably didn't treat him half as bad as he treated us, I thought bitterly.

I locked myself and my thoughts in my room.

6:30 P.M.

My eyes glazed over the pink envelope, and I read the address it was sent from. It was my grandmother's address. I hadn't seen my grandmother in over two years. After the judge gave Trent his sentence, my mother and I moved to Tarzana. We made sure to never contact anyone from his side of the family. My mother made sure to cut ties as well as she could.

My mother didn't really have a family. She was orphaned when she was eight and had an unstable childhood as she was moved from home to home. She met my father at 18-years-old and he was 26. And to them it was love at first sight, but to me it sounded like she jumped on the first opportunity of a stable life. Her whole life was unsteady, and my father provided that security. Soon my mother got pregnant, and Trent had a good salary working as an accountant, they decided to move in together. They decided to not marry which always confused me. My mother, not much of a stay-at-home mom, wanted to start working. She got a technical certificate for accounting at a community college and began working alongside Trent. And everything was bliss and happy for a while, until I turned six.

We started having financial issues, Trent got into gambling to pay off the debt of the house mortgage and the lease he took out on the car he couldn't afford. Although my mother doesn't tell me, the financial issues started when I was born. Trent wanted to give us a good life with a fancy neighborhood and a nice car; it was a life he couldn't afford, and it led to his downfall. His abuse began as he started drinking when he lost his money to gambling. But soon after, our financial troubles ended when I was ten, when my mother was promoted on her job, earning almost six figures, and she was able to pay off the house mortgage and Trent's fancy car. Trent's alcoholism and abuse didn't stop.

After Trent was put to jail, we really didn't have anyone. My grandmother turned a blind eye for her son and disowned me. My mother wouldn't have wanted it any other way. She and my grandmother never got along. It was heartbreaking as I loved her, but it was for the best.

As I held the letter he had sent, the love I held for my grandmother slowly chipped away. Why would she do this? She was no better than her son.

My eyes read his name, and the handwriting was visibly different than the handwriting of the address. Did he personally write the letters? For a second, I was curious to what the letter said. Nothing that he could say would make a difference, but I was curious to see what he had to say after two years in a prison sell.

Did he want forgiveness? Was he seeking redemption?

A soft knock on the door interrupted my train of thought. I swallowed nervously and placed the letter on the nightstand.

A smile instantly allotted my face as I saw who my visitor was.

"Eddie," I quickly pulled him into an embrace which he reciprocated. I had pulled him a little too enthusiastically that he let out a startled "oh!" but it was soon replaced with a chuckle.

"I'm happy to see you, too," I felt his lips on my hair. I looked up at him, and his smile stayed put. I kissed him softly on the lips, sighing as I felt an unknown weight get off my shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" I pulled him inside my room, and softly closed the door behind me.

"Do I need a reason to visit my girl?" Eddie flashed me a smile which would have made me blush, but it didn't as I noticed the nervousness in his face.

"No, you don't need a reason."

I sat on my bed and watched him carefully. Eddie scratched the back of his head as he followed me to my bed. He leaned in and placed a tentative kiss on my lips, and I felt his hands gently cup my face.

"How was school?" He whispered as he straightened up, pulled a chair from my desk, and sat on it. He was facing me.

"It was regular school day. Not much happened." Eddie was acting strange. There was a tension on his jaw, and he looked worried.

"Is everything okay, Loren?"

His question came out of nowhere. He is the third person to ask me today if I was okay. The first two times made sense. I was quiet and visibly paranoid, so it made sense Melissa was worried. My mother was concerned about yesterday's unwanted news, so her question was justified. Eddie's questioned didn't make sense. I haven't done or said anything to lead him to believe I wasn't okay. And one doesn't randomly ask "are you okay" in ordinary conversation. So, that could only mean one thing.

"My mother called you, didn't she?"

Eddie nodded; concern was now evident on his face.

"What did she tell you?" I nervously bit at my fingers as I waited for him.

"Just about everything that happened yesterday." He murmured. His eyes held mine intently. I let out a shaky exhale.

I am okay. I wanted to tell him, but he wouldn't believe that. He'd see right through me and know that everything wasn't okay.

That's why he was here. My mother told him that I was shutting myself down again. I was distancing myself from what I felt and pretending that everything was okay. She knew because it wasn't the first I did it. I've done it before, and it ended up being messy, and I barely got out of room for two weeks. She knew me better than anyone, so that's why she called Eddie.

Because he was the only one who saw through me and called me out on my BS.

She knew he was my weakness, and I wouldn't be able to pretend for too long.

And she was right.

"Oh," I bit my lip, "I was going to tell you, but-"

"That doesn't matter, Loren," he stated, "this is heavy. I can't imagine what you're going through."

"It's like seeing a ghost," I said hoarsely, "a ghost I never thought I would hear from again."

Eddie nodded, I saw him twitch on his seat, almost like he wanted to come to me but held himself back.

"How are you feeling?"

I was silent for a second, letting his question simmer. How was I feeling? I wanted to say I was feeling fine, but my head was polluted with thoughts and fears of Trent McCall; my eyes were cloudy from tears that couldn't fall down and not because I didn't allow them, they just couldn't; and my chest felt heavy with cries that can't seem to come out.

"I feel nothing," I murmured lowly. Eddie heard it, and of course, he didn't believe me.

"How are you feeling?"

He asked again and something snapped in me.

"What do you want me to tell you, Eddie? I. Don't. Know. What. I. Am. Feeling. Do you want me to tell you how fucked up it is that the person I hate the most in this world is out there, walking freely as if he never hurt a fly in his life? Do you want me to tell you how fucked up it is that he probably has cleared his fucking conscious in those two years, while I am still having nightmares after nightmares about him barging through my bedroom door? Do you want me to tell you that today, when I walked out, every single person I saw had his face? Do you want me to tell you that every time I close my eyes all I see are his disgusting hands hitting my mother?"

I felt Eddie's pained gaze on me. His hands were clenched, I saw them becoming whiter by the second, and his body was rigid in his seat.

I was all snot and tears and whimpers. The tightness in my chest was slowly alleviating.

"My father, who was supposed to protect us from harm and take care of us, transformed into this monster that hurt us. He breaks my heart every time I think about why he hurt us in the way he did. Is that what you want to hear, Eddie? That even after all these years, after all that abuse, I still wonder that maybe if I were enough for my father, he wouldn't have become a monster. That maybe if I weren't born, my mother wouldn't have gone through all that pain. Is that what you want to hear? Do you want me to fucking tell you how messed up I am-"

I felt Eddie's arms swiftly pull me into him. My body trembled and my cries become louder and uncontrollable. My tears flowed down with no end. Eddie pulled me closer to his chest, his grip grew tighter by the second as I let my feelings out.

I let out all my bottled-up rage, and he just listened. He didn't say anything as he held me so close to him. Just like my dreams, he shields me from my nightmares and the shadows lurking. But this is real. He is here with me, holding me so tightly as I let out everything I've been holding. As I cry as I've never cried before.

And while Trent may be out, I have Eddie this time.

Author's Note:

Song: Breathe by He is We

I've edited the first 4 chapters for this story. Kind of tweaking it, fixing grammar, adding more details that I feel were lacking. Slowly but surely I will be able to edit the next remaining 16 chapters while writing more. Thank you all for your kind words

R&R xoxo julia-neHH