Five More Minutes | 18+ [HIATUS]

pity

"That's not all," he says, reading my eyes.

I nod silently.

"He's not the only one," he sputters with angst.

I nod again, and I watch as anger replaces every other emotion he formerly felt. He waits for an explanation.

"My mom used to sell me. Bring me to clubs and give me off to random men for money or good connections.
It started off with that, but eventually she saw my 'potential' and started sex trafficking me," I admit with a hint of shame.

Don't feel guilty, Athena. There's nothing you could've done.

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily, sitting up. But before he says anything, I decide to tell him the truth. The whole truth— the truth of it all. If I was going to have to stay with him, there was no point in hiding anything anymore. So with that thought, I let go of my knees and put my healed palms on his lap.

"It was a way for me to release the pent up anger. My dad never let me breathe a breath without feeling like a failure, so I had to find an outlet. He found every way he could to ruin me, and this was my way of coping." As I say that, I look down at my thigh.

"Cutting was another way for me to cope. I'd carve patterns or words into places no one else could see so that I could feel the pain physically. It distracted me from my thoughts," I reveal, looking back up with a somber grin.

Only then do I realize how close we are.

Our faces are only inches away from meeting, and our legs are still touching each other. My hands sit peacefully on his lap as we both stare deep into each other's eyes, afraid of what might happen next. Without any further movement, he backs up and clears his throat, reclaiming our distance. I blink furiously and look around, trying to ease the sudden tension. "Sorry," is all I say as he nods and his stoic expression climbs back unto his face.

"If it's any help, I understand your pain."

My head tilts in confusion.

"My parents used to give me to their friends when I was younger," he explains in a cold tone. "To beat me," he says as he glowers.

"And rape me," he finishes with a tone of revulsion.

My eyes widen in shock as I simply stare at the man in front of me, full of pent up anger and frustration. "That was until I killed both of them and started leading the mafia on my own," he spits out with a grin, seemingly proud of what he had accomplished. I shake my head and let out a laugh. "I guess you could say I'm proud of you?" I joke sarcastically. We exchanged an odd look and let out small laughs as we both turn back to watch the stars shimmer.

"You ever feel bad?"

Silence.

"They used to destroy me, Athena. They'd use me until I was too weak to stand up on my own— too numb to do anything," he barked out with anger. "And the worst part of it was I used think it was normal; that every parent did it out of love," I glance back to see the little layer of gloss tracing around the corners of his eyes, pain reflecting off of every angle.

"But they never loved me."

I guess we are no different, him and I. We share the same pain. We take it out through violence, whether or not it be on ourselves or other people. We cage it all in, thinking that no one cares. We hide our emotions thinking emotions are for the weak, when all we want is to find someone who understands.

How silly.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nods.