One of the Good Ones ✓

The Truth... Or Most of It Anyway

We had watched The Fox and the Hound and Atlantis before taking a break. "So, who was that guy?" He asks.

I take a deep breath. "Promise that you won't judge?" He nods. "That was my stepfather."

"He seems... pleasant..."

"He's just getting started." I say, a dark look clouding my face.

"What did he do to you?" He asks, turning to me to give me his full attention.

"I... I don't think I'm strong enough to go through this."

"Telling me?"

I nod. "No one ever believes me. I tried going to the police but he had a few friends in the department and I pretty much got laughed out of the station." I take a shuddering breath, trying not to start sobbing. "You don't need my baggage Chris. You're too good, it'll ruin you." I say before heading to the kitchen, trying to get away, rebuild my walls, protect myself.

"If you think I don't have baggage too, you're wrong. No one's perfect Lexi, regardless of the image presented to the rest of the world." He says, joining me in the kitchen.

I shake my head. "I can't do this to you Chris. Every moment spent with me, you run the risk of him finding out about you. And if he finds out about you, he'll... he won't leave you alone. I can't let him do that. I think it'd be best if you leave." I say quietly.

"I'm not going to do that. You're my friend Lexi, and one thing to know about me, I will always protect my friends."

"You can't protect me from this one Chris. This goes too deep."

"We'll see about that." He says.

"Please. I'm practically begging you to leave. I can't have you affected by this. I shouldn't have said yes to your dinner offer. People like me... we can't have friends." I look down at the floor, praying that he would leave and the floor would swallow me whole.

I feel him stand in front of me before he lifts my head to make me look at him. I flinch slightly at first and his eyes go hard. "I still don't know what he did to you. But I'm getting a better idea. You are worthy of friendship, of love. And if I have to, I will spend everyday making sure you know that." He says before pulling me into a hug.

I freeze for a minute before relaxing into it. "I can't ask you to do this." I feel like we're just going around in circles.

He pulls away and looks at me. "You're not asking. I'm telling you. You're no longer alone. And whenever you're ready to tell me what happened, I'll be here to listen and continue to be your friend regardless."

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We're sitting on my couch after the next movie and I let out a sigh. "My mother met him when I was 5." I begin. He jumps to attention, turning on the couch so he's facing me. "My sperm donor... well he didn't have the opportunity to be around, so I kind of just always cling to the father figures in my life. I guess I was just as desperate as she was. Desperate for a dad like my friends had. And in desperation, you'll do anything to make things work." I turn to look out the window before continuing. "I didn't fit this mold that they wanted and so I was... treated differently I guess is the nicest way to put it."

His mouth is set in a hard line. "What's the not nicest way to put it?"

I let out another shaky breath. "I was isolated from them, forced to eat most nights in the hallway in the dark by myself. I was ridiculed and yelled at for playing pretend, I was 6 or 7 when that happened. Umm... he cut himself doing something and told my mother he found the knife in my purse. Again I was between the ages of 6 and 8 when that happened. One time he spanked me so hard with a wooden spoon it put a whole in the middle of it... and then he had the nerve to tell my mother he cried afterwards and he caught me smiling about it. Another time his mother, who we were living with at the time, drug me up the stairs by my hair and down the hall to her bedroom, through her bedroom and locked me in her closet, in the dark, which I was petrified of still at that age."

I found once I started talking, I couldn't stop and it all just came out like word vomit. I didn't mean to let it all out and I quickly snap my jaw shut, a blush forming on my cheeks. "Sorry. You didn't need to know the whole sob story."

He shakes his head. "You needed to tell it. And something tells me that wasn't all of it." I look up at him, panicked. "I'm not going to ask you to elaborate. Whenever you're ready, I'm here to listen."

I was crying now and he pulls me back into a hug. This time I don't pull away and I don't ask him to leave. I just exist in this little, protective cocoon he's made for me.