Perfectly Normal

Thirty-Six

A/N:  Thanks for all the kind messages last week. I have the loveliest readers!   The funeral is next week, so I may not be able to publish an update.  But I will try my best as writing as has been a welcome distraction this week!  Chrissy x

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Cuddled on Nathan's lap, Rayne stopped dithering from the cold. "Look at me, sweetheart." Placing his finger under her chin, eye contact was necessary. "I can't lose you, Rayne. Please talk to me. Tell me what happened."

Rayne couldn't look away as his gentle hold held her in place. She saw his concern, love shimmering in those green eyes. "I upset Jaxon."

"This isn't about Jaxon, Rayne, this is about you. He's a big boy and will get over it. I want to know how you feel."

How did she feel... numb, mostly? "I feel adrift. It's lived with me, inside me, for so long. I thought I could just ignore it."

Nathan listened. "And now?"

Disappointment fuelled her tears. Inching her head away from his grip, she looked down with unfocused eyes as her hand habitually moved to her inner thigh, circling the fleshy part of her skin. Pinching would offer a reprieve—albeit temporary.

Nathan watched her carefully, taking her hand in his. "Rayne, for me to help, please allow me in. I've never asked, and I've waited patiently." He wrapped his powerful arms around her small waist, kissing her shoulder, inhaling the scent that was only her. "Trust me."

Burying her face in his chest. She did trust him. He'd never failed her, always anchoring her when lost. "My mother hated my very existence. From my earliest memories I only remember her cruelty." Rayne recalled the first time her mother had wished her dead. "My sixth birthday was the day my father died, having been in a coma since the day I was born." She paused, pondering if her life would have been different if he had lived.

Would he have hated her, too? Would her mother have loved her if he'd survived? Answers she would never know.

"Her rants and declarations of how much hate she had for me increased from that day."

Memories of her sixth birthday flooded her brain. "Rayne." Nathan pulled her from her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. Marcus always stood up for me, telling me how wrong she was." Nathan squeezed her, encouraging her onwards. "When I was twelve, she got drunk and chased me through the house with scissors, stabbing me in the leg." She ran her hand over the faint scar. "Marcus stopped her. He was seventeen and threatened he would leave her if she touched me again."

"And did she... stop?" Nathan's heart beat to a thunderous drum, reeling in his anger.

"It never happened again, but from then onwards, every night she would come into my room and tell me how useless and unwanted I was. How she wished I'd died instead of my father." Swallowing pain as if needles tore at her throat, she took a steadying breath. "Marcus would hear me cry and come sit with me. And one night he climbed in bed and held me until we fell asleep."