Maya (Book #3)

Chapter 57

My eyes blinked open sluggishly to see my family surrounding me, peering at me with something that looked like fear. Were they afraid of me? My mind rejected that thought immediately, picturing Dominic and Damon's overconfident faces. They couldn't be afraid of me, so they must be afraid for me.

I was perturbed by that. Hadn't I remembered to brush the tear streaks off my face so that nobody could tell? Hadn't I run my fingers through my hair to ensure it resembled my normal look? They can't have known what happened unless somebody told them...

As I entered reality slowly, I could hear Dominic finishing his explanation of what he experienced in the last hour. He was pacing in front of our TV, making sharp turns every time he had to change direction. His hands were folded behind his body like he was our sergeant, and we were being reprimanded. What did I do? I wanted to ask.

My head pounded as memories of being abused by Officer Walker came flying back to me forcibly. They flooded through my head and scraped inside my skull as I begged for them to disappear. It hurt more than I could put into words. Any second my family was going to ask me what had happened, and they were expecting an answer. Did I ignore them for their own safety, or answer for my own?

I felt a headache grating against the inside of my head as everyone's voices regained volume and I was back in the present once more. I made little involuntary whimpers as the pounding and visions of the past abated.

"I drove her home and she fell asleep against the window, having nightmares the whole way back. Something happened and I don't know if she's going to tell us what it was," he concluded, giving me a look. The others turned back to examine me, and Brooks jumped when he saw I was awake. He leaned towards the coffee table and then twisted back, handing me a plate with some toast on it and a glass of orange juice. I looked at him curiously and he smiled self-consciously.

"Doctor's orders," he said, nodding subtly at Dominic. I faced him and his aggressive stance hadn't changed an inch, so I began nibbling on the bread, making him relax ever so slightly.

Charlotte, on my other side, grabbed my cold hand and warmed it between her own.

"Hey, sweet girl," she said supportively, switching my hands and rubbing like she was trying to start a fire. Her hands were oven-like against mine and I realized with a start that I was freezing. My hands felt like ice, so she squeezed them, trying to further my circulation. There was a blanket on my lap and someone's jacket draped over my shoulders as they tried to warm me. It reminded me of a scene in a show when someone had just gone through something traumatic and was enveloped in a blanket by a police officer. Technically I had experienced something traumatic, but they didn't know about that.

 "Hi," I said nervously, looking beneath my lashes up at Dominic. His arms were crossed over his bulking chest and his face was still tight and fuming. He saw my worry and sighed, sitting in the armchair across from Damon and leaning back. He gave me a feeble attempt at a regular smile that calmed me immediately. 

"You're not mad at me, right?" I asked him just to confirm. When the occasional shiver stopped rolling down my back, I slipped the jacket off my shoulders and handed it to Caleb once I recognized whose it was. I kept the soft blanket on my lap, tucking it under my thighs.

"Of course not," Dominic said, shaking his head. "I'm mad at what happened to you, which you are going to tell us about now." His voice was authoritative and reproving as if by not telling him what had happened immediately, I had done something wrong.

Fear shot through me, and my left leg twitched uncertainly.

"I can't," I replied, looking at him helplessly. I turned to Charlotte so she could read the apologies in my eyes. She wasn't as forgiving as I thought she'd be.

"Maya, where does shame like to hide?" she asked me patiently, like a teacher asking a student a question they should know the answer to.

"In the dark," I replied automatically, referring to our many conversations on the subject.

"What does that mean?" Caleb asked from the floor, looking at us inquisitively. I remembered that he was supposed to go on a date tonight and wondered if he canceled to be here. I would offer him an honest answer to this question at least.

Charlotte was looking at me expectantly, encouraging me to answer it to the best of my ability. I tried to think of a helpful way to explain as I scratched at my bottom lip, and finally did.

"It basically means that shame and all the bad feelings that you have prefer to be hidden. If you keep them a secret, they thrive on your insecurities and doubts. If you share them and bring them into the light, they grow weaker and don't have the same ability to bother you or frighten you." I interpreted, looking at Charlotte to check if that was correct. Her smile was all the answer I needed.

Caleb chewed on that thought as Brooks spoke up.

"Doesn't that happen with abuse too?" he asked, looking at Dominic when he spoke. By the way Dominic held his composure, I realized that the others knew about the abuse that Dominic had faced. I didn't know the depth that they knew, but I was proud of him for sharing what had happened. He answered Brooks question gently as any survivor would, trying not to scare him off with the truth.

"Yep. It also works with abuse. Abusers depend on secrecy from their victims. They threaten you or abuse you so consistently that it feels normal, expected even. Survivors of abuse often feel ashamed and scared, so they keep what happens to them a secret. They might also feel like nobody will believe them or that they deserved it. Sometimes, they feel like their loved ones might be hurt if they shared," Dominic added, giving me a pointed look. I looked down at the blanket on my lap and played with its little green tassels absently.

"Because of this," Charlotte completed, placing a hand on her youngest son's shoulder. "Abuse often remains 'in the dark' and the abuser can't be rightfully punished for their actions."

I spoke up, unable to help myself. I kept my eyes on Caleb because I knew his face would continue to be kind and warm, regardless of the words I said. I wasn't disappointed.

"But what if someone said that he would hurt my family if I told them something, and I know that he has the ability to do it?" I asked, tears swelling in my eyes. I knew I was giving away too much already, but I wanted them to know the full extent of what they were asking me for with my honesty.

Damon spoke up now, blue eyes burning into mine with intensity. I felt trapped in his gaze and powerless to look away as he stared, unblinking. My hands released the blanket as I focused wholly on him.

"When we say we love you, Maya, we're not saying that impassively. It's a promise that you live by, and we mean it when we say it. Whatever the risk is, we'll face it when it arrives. If you want to tell us what happened for your sake, tell us. Don't worry about us. We're not afraid," he said, composed. I studied the faces of everyone in the room and saw compassion and veracity. Each one of them agreed with Damon. Each one of them was willing to risk their lives for me.

 "It wasn't my uncle, tonight," I stated, answering the question I assumed they were asking mentally. "It was a friend of my uncle. He wasn't following me, he just happened to be a friend of Asher's family. He's a police officer named Officer Walker and I've had nightmares and flashbacks about him before. He's hurt me immensely. Umm... down there, and in other ways. I can't really remember, I just know that when I see him, I freeze and it hurts," I said, feeling shallow breaths tear through my body as I began to hyperventilate. Why did it feel scarier admitting abuse than experiencing it?

They all held their breath and waited for me to go on. I didn't know what I wanted to say, but words began gushing out of me like a broken faucet, unable to be stopped.

"Even before him, I got a note and a text from my uncle, and I didn't know what to do so I just handled it, but I feel very scared and alone even though I know you all love me. They want to hurt me, and they always have before." I whispered, disconsolate. I waited for the boys to yell and Charlotte to comfort me, but neither came. I risked a glance up to see their faces all possessing the same look of deliberation and hatred. They weren't feeling sorry for me. They were planning how to fight.