A Lover To Him

Chapter Twenty-seven, A dark story

"That's how I ended up living with them, my new family," Caine says, taking a short break from talking while I try to wipe away more tears. Caine notices my wet cheeks, bringing his hands towards my cheeks to cup my face as a sweet smile tucks the corners of his lips. His thumbs wipe away more tears, brushing softly against my red skin.

I hate crying in public because it makes me feel vulnerable and weak, but I wasn't able to keep myself from tearing up and crying when I heard the first half of his past. I wouldn't know what to do if my family died, I can't even imagine my family not being there. Not being able to do fun girl stuff with my mom and ask her for advice on anything I'm worried or stressed about. Not being able to repair cars with my dad while making stupid jokes and quoting movie or book lines. Not being able to mess around with both of my brothers.

I can't imagine what Caine's been through, losing his dad and his home at such a young age. I can only speculate how terrible it must have been to live with those foster parents, who didn't give a shit about you or your well-being. He tells his story lighthearted and even with amusement sometimes, covering up the marks it left on him as a person. I know it was much worse than he's telling me, and I know he keeps the dark version and some details to himself, wanting to forget about them and refusing to bring them up.

That's something I can say I understand completely because I didn't tell anyone the dark version of my car accident. I keep the dark details to myself, putting them away behind a closed door in my mind. The door only opens every now and then, letting me see the traumatic terrors of my memories in my dreams. The nightmares never went away, but they got less frequent, allowing me to sleep peacefully. On some nights, my mind believes it's necessary to show me those devastating events again, terrorizing my dreams with horrible memories.

It's the same dream I've always had, it has never been different. The nightmare is always the same, but it still wrecks me every time. There was a time when I believed the nightmares would get better, hurting less as I saw the memory all over again for the millionth time, but it doesn't. It never gets easier to see the memories, the tears still roll down my cheeks when I wake up panting heavily as the memories replay in my mind another time. It gives me a feeling like I'm being chased by some horrible storm of emotions and memories, and the only thing I can do is run for my life until my feet can't bear to run anymore.

"My love, don't cry. I might have had a rough past, but I'm still here. I've dealt with the memories and emotions, I have peace with what happened. The past is the past, and I have no control over it." Caine says, looking at me with an emotion in his eyes I can't exactly place. I flash him a small smile through my tears, drying my cheeks with my sweater.

"I can't help it." I chuckle, wiping away more tears. The sleeves of my dark green sweater are wet from my tears, but I don't mind it. I moved my hand through my hair, tucking some strands behind my ear as I looked at Caine, drowning in those ice-blue eyes he got from his mom.

His eyes hold many emotions I couldn't exactly place, but they also held grief and sadness. He grieved for the loss of his dad, his anchor, and his only family. There are losses that rearrange the world and deaths that change the way you see everything. A feeling of grief that tears down everything. A horrible pain that transports you to an entirely different universe, all that while everyone else thinks nothing has changed.

Caine changed after his dad's passing, shutting out a lot of people. He learned to show no emotion aside from anger, keeping everything bottled up deep inside of him. His thoughts are private for everyone, but sometimes, I can see a glimpse of the way he thinks. It's hard and difficult to read him, something he thought himself at a young age. It's like a little switch, there are times when I know exactly what he thinks and feels, but most of the time, it's an enormous mystery to me.