Moral Devotions

17| Macy

I didn't mean to tell Declan most of my childhood baggage on the way here. It's definitely too soon to be unbagging some of that-which is why I left a lot of details out. But he was talking about his childhood and it made me realize that I'm not alone. That I'm not the only one who had a hard time growing up, who still is having a hard time.

And once I started sharing a few things, I couldn't stop. The words just kept pouring out of me until I realized we arrived at the aquarium. And I thought he'd run for the hills, but instead, he offered to put the conversation on the back burner for a more appropriate time.

But there are things I'm nervous about. What if I get all clammy and can't share anymore? What if all those feelings poured out was because the bottle cap had been stretching for too long and it finally popped but now the bottle is empty?

But it can't be, I still have so much to share.

There are still things I'm afraid to talk about, and haven't shared with anyone-not even Darren. Declan seems to be close to his uncle. But me? I hate my uncle. My uncle raped me when I was eight. Where Declan's uncle taught him to love the sport he was forced to play.

How can I tell this man who seems to adore his uncle so much that I can't stand the thought of mine? That I wish my uncle were in jail. Or even worse, dead.

I still remember the day I finally told my mother what had happened. What will Declan think about the fact that I was too scared to tell my own mother that someone was hurting me? Every little kid announces when they're hurt. They run to their mom with tears down their face immediately after it happened. But I wasn't strong enough. I was scared it would make it worse.

The worst part of the situation isn't even the rapes. It's the fact that the situation was never dealt with. I just wasn't allowed to be left alone with Uncle Ryan anymore, neither was Ava. So instead of putting the man behind bars, because heaven forbid there be a scandal in my family, I was forced to see him. To hug him. To sit on his lap during family gatherings so everything appeared to be normal to our other family members.

I've experienced almost every terrible thing someone can do. I've been arrested, and I've drunk and smoked under age. I drove under the influence. I've got knocked up and forced to raise a kid on my own. I've been raped. I almost killed my sister. But it doesn't matter anymore, because I'm a good person now. I've got my life together now. Right?

Wrong. Just because I stepped up and became a mother doesn't erase every single thing I did in my past. Sure, I was young and naive, but I was old enough to know what I was doing. To know the risks of the consequences.

I could blame it on the rape. Say that really fucked me up and broke me. Which it did, of course, it did, but a man forcing me down and shoving his dick inside of me at an age where I didn't even know what he was doing, what sex was, what my own vagina really even was, doesn't excuse all of the choices I made afterward. Right? Right.

And I don't get to blame my parents. I don't get to blame Uncle Ryan for fucking me up. The only one to blame is me.

"Why are you crying, Mama?" Axel's sweet voice pulls me back to reality.

"Hmm? Oh, um,"

"She's just so excited to see the fishies. Sometimes people cry when they are happy. They're called happy tears." Declan swoops in and saves the day.

"Oh. Well, don't cry, Mama. The fishies aren't that cool."

I chuckle and Declan reaches across the table, wiping my tear-stained cheeks. "Then maybe we don't need to go see them at all? I can take you back home if that's what you'd rather do." Declan goes to stand but Axel stops him.