Care For Me ✔️

19

trigger warning; mentions of child abuse, SA and SH.

J A C K

Part of me wishes I'd told Lily the truth years ago.

Back when we were little kids, when we could still pretend the bruises were normal; like when kids would have their faces painted at birthday parties as lions and tigers and unicorns. We were the just the same, but instead of stained sinks, ours didn't fade with water, lingering for weeks on end only to be refreshed to the darkest shade of purple.

I would go back to when she loved me, when her giggles were like siren songs to my ears, when her smiles lit up my entire world, because that's what she was to me, what she is to me...

My world.

Even if it doesn't feel that way to her, it's always been the truth.

For what feels like forever, I've done everything I  physically can do to protect her. And I try, God, I try my fucking hardest. But, sadly for me, for her, for us, trying doesn't always mean succeeding.

Sometimes to try means to fail.

And I've failed more times than I can count.

She won't forgive me for it, for failing. She doesn't understand, she doesn't know.

And she deserves to know. I know she does, yet, anytime I've tried to tell her in the past, it's like a cats got a hold of my tongue and suddenly all the words I've learned throughout the years fail me.

My childhood wasn't one of rainbows and sunshine. Happy memories don't come back to me in dreams like the scary ones do. Like the sad ones do.

Some part of my mind hid all that darkness away from me, only letting the trailer of it all out in my most vulnerable moments; when not even sleep can save me from reliving every sound, every smell, every feeling.

But I remember Lily. I remember the way she'd look at me like I was her everything. Until one day, one word, one change of my tone and the light slowly dimmed piece by piece, and the love I'd only ever been shown from her eventually faded to nothingness.

I didn't want that. I've never wanted that.

But, as I learned at a younger age than most, we don't always get what we want, even if it's the most simplest of things— it can still be out of reach.

And... it's better this way. It's better that she hates me, that it seems like I hate her.

It's the only thing I can do to keep her safe. Safe from something worse than punches, worse than words, worse than full fledged beatings.

Growing up, my parents weren't the kindest or most loving parents. They cared for me, or at least that's what I tell myself to make the pain sting less. But I wasn't important to them, I was useful. I was a backup.

My sister, Jenna, who I have little to no memories of, was dying and I was her only hope. Chord blood they'd said. That's all they'd need.

Lie after lie.

Since my first breath everything's been taken without my consent. Nothing was ever mine, not my blood, not my body, nor my organs.