Love and Ambition

20 - Open Wounds

Trigger Warning - mentions of abuse and rape

As Jason takes a breath, his lips tremble and his eyes search around the room. "I don't know where to start. There's so much to say. Do I go from the beginning—?"

I place a hand on his arm to stop him, looking steadily into his eyes. "Tell me about the girl first," I hope that my stable tone would calm his racing mind.

"What—?" He looks at me, confused. Then realizing that he had described her to me before. "Oh. Right. She's my sister. Miranda."

The corners of his lips raise again like they did before at the thought of her. "She was crazy. Wild. Stubborn like a horse. No one could tame her but me."

Was?

Then his smile fades as a thought enters; his eyes hanging low as they stare at the floor. "My mom left when I was only 3 and my sister was a few months old. By the time I was 6, my dad had also abandoned us—not the same way our mom did. He abandoned us through ignorance while he cradled a bottle of gin in his hands; snoozing by the TV while I tried to put my sister to sleep.

"Money was tight. My dad worked. That was how he cared. To make sure that we at least had a roof above our head and food in our bellies. But it wasn't enough. Bills piled up and up and up and as my dad drowned, he brought that bottle of gin down with him. I was 10 when I had my first job," he turns to me. "You know the forest behind the other building?"

I nod, reeling in.

"There's a house somewhere there where an old woman used to live—Mrs. Alderidge. She baked the tastiest stuff. I would go over with my bike and deliver her baked goods to the cafe." He smiles at this, releasing a soft chuckle.

"Anyway, it wasn't much money, but it was something. I worked for her for a few years until she died."

His voice falters. He sinks lower in his seat, staring at the whiskey bottle in his hand. I stare at him as his fading blues begin to glass. "Then it was school, home, and taking care of my sister and teaching her things as much as I could. We couldn't afford for her to go to school, so it was up to me."

I can't bear to look at him as his mind wanders. I place my head on his shoulder and that's when I notice his fingertips turning white. "Until I came home one day. The couch was empty. My dad's gin bottle on the coffee table. The house was so quiet. So I checked for my sister in her room—"

A lump made his voice croak. He stops himself, taking a sip of whiskey; his chest heaving to calm his breath. "She was lying on the ground, blood gushing out of her arm. Her skin had turned grey and when I went to her, she was so cold. She was so frail and limp in my arms, Brooke. So weak and small and—"

He heaves through his words, tears falling down his cheeks and I urge him to stop. My firm hand cupping his cheek as I wipe away the tears and telling him, "It's okay." Even though we both know it isn't, but what else was I supposed to say at something like that?

I let his head fall to my chest as he collects himself. I want to know more, but only when he's ready. 

"My mom..." He sniffles, raising his head to look at me now. "She left because she was a mistress to a millionaire. While my dad worked, she was with the millionaire and he gave her money. Money she used on us. Then mom got pregnant, my dad found out about everything and he didn't want to see her ever again."

"But he kept your sister?"

He nods. 

I had more questions, but I didn't want to pry further. 

"When we went to the hospital, dad didn't even answer his phone. My guess was that he ran away from shame. Or guilt. Or both." His eyes averts from mine, staring at the spot beside me. "She was only 15 when he raped her. She... Wasn't the same after that."

"Are you still taking care of her?"

"No," he sips more whiskey, "I couldn't take care of her anymore. I didn't know how to. It got too much, you know? So I put her into a psychiatric hospital and decided to study psychology. For her. Because I want to be able to understand her more and people like her. I want to help."

Things begin to fall into place. As Jason opened up, revealing his wounds, I was finally able to see him. He was no longer this person behind a closed door. A mystery. A closed book. 

To me, he's now—Jason. 

And my heart falls ever so far for him.

"Brooke?" He looks at me, his eyes still glassy. "I..." A boyish smile appears on his lips. "Thank you."

I smile, wiping his tear and giving him a soft kiss. As we separate, he holds my forehead against his and our eyes don't leave each other.

"I love you, Brooke."