Blessings ; George Weasley

Fifty-four

Warning!: talk of sexual assault from Dia's childhood

George looked at me.

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned a hitman.

Now he thought I was out of my mind.

"How the fuck do you know the price of a hitman?"

When I was a child, I felt desperate about wanting out because of what my dad did to me so I searched for the price of a hitman but I never actually went through with it, which I think is pretty obvious.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, love."

He cocked an eyebrow in question and I just shook my head, laughing.

"I haven't paid one, don't worry. It was just some research I did when I was eleven."

George seemed to realise why as he nodded.

"I'm gonna kill your dad if I ever meet him, y'know." He said and stood up while grabbing the laptop.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No. You're not."

George stopped on his way over to the living room, and looked back at me.

"And why is that?"

I shrugged.

"Because he'll kill you first."

"Isn't he in his sixties?"

"Yes." I nodded. "What does that have to do with anything?"

George continued into the living room and placed the laptop on the shelf under the sofa table.

"He's old. He can't have as much strength as when he was young and killed a whole lot of people."

I sighed.

Now that we were talking about my dad, I was reminded of what my therapist said when I saw him today.

He encouraged me to talk to George and lay everything out there. He said that I had kept it for myself for so long and that it would possibly be nice for me to tell my husband what my dad did to me.

"George?" I asked as he walked across the room again, opening one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

He grabbed a pack of crackers and turned towards me.

"You want one?"

I shook my head and he grabbed one himself.

"What's up?" He asked, closing the cupboard again.

He turned to look at me again while he leaned back against the counter.

While I gathered courage to tell him, Charley walked into the room and I looked at him, slowly lifting my feet from the floor, putting them on the chair next to me.

I do not like that dog.

"Dia?"

I looked at George.

"Hmm?"

"You were gonna tell me something."

"Oh, right." I chuckled. "Well, my therapist thinks I should tell you what I haven't already... about my dad, I mean."

I watched him to see his reaction. He stopped chewing for a moment, then continued while making his way over to the table.

"Do you want to tell me?"

I shrugged.

"No one knows besides my therapist." I said. "Not even my mum or Nadine who both lived under the roof at the time it happened."

George sat down across from me.

"It only happened twice, though." I told him. "I was five. The first time, it happened because my parents had fought. Dad had gotten angry with mum and probably hit her or something. I was already locked up down in the basement, serving a punishment for crying because I tripped and scraped my knees outside."

I ran my nails up and down my arm as I explained it to him, trying to keep my voice from shaking, or my body for that sake.

Talking about trauma always caused me to shake and stutter.

"So I was locked up in the basement and after he fought with my mum, he came down to me—" I gulped. "...he— you know... he..."

I let out a chuckle to try and hide the fact that this was difficult for me.

"You know what I'm trying to say, right?" I asked.

"Yeah..."

"And I was five... I didn't understand what he was doing. He kept reassuring me that this was just something a dad had to do with their daughter. He told me it was a reward for having done my punishment like a good girl. I remember those words clearly and I also remember him blindfolding me before he did it. Like he wanted to do it but he couldn't if I looked at him. He knew it was wrong."

I glanced at George but I quickly looked down again when I saw the look on his face.

He looked like he had seen a ghost but he also looked full of pity.

"That was the first time." I said. "When I was nine, he did it again, but this time he snuck into my bedroom at night and I woke up to him..."

I scratched my neck.

"...to him raping me." I said, immediately feeling a huge relief of just saying the word. "...he covered my mouth with his hand when he saw me wake up. He was drunk and he didn't want me to scream. Of course he didn't want me to scream. My mother may be many things but I don't believe she would've let him do what he did to me if she knew."

I gulped.

"When I was twelve, I had started growing breasts and during the holidays when my dad had friends over for Christmas dinner, he wanted to show me off. My mum wasn't there and neither was Nadine. He ordered me to take off my clothes and stand in front of them so they could have a look at me. No one touched me but it was humiliating. I've never understood why he did those things to me."

I leaned back in the chair and looked at George who ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes focused on me.

"Don't tell anyone, please." I said. "No one knows. Not even Inez. She thinks I lost my virginity to Malcolm, when in reality I lost it to my own dad."

George stood up and walked around the table while I kept my head down, staring at the newly made scratches up my arm and the little blood under my nails.

Shit.

When he reached me, he pulled me out of the chair and wrapped his arms tightly around me, hugging me like he never wanted to let go of me.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." He whispered.

I slowly wrapped my own arms around his neck and closed my eyes. My head rested against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating.

I was happy my therapist told me to do this. I definitely needed him to know.

It had also been the first time I said it out loud.

My therapist knew I had been sexually abused but I never told him what my father did to be exact.

But now I had told George and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.