Complete Undoing

TWO.

I peer down at the crashing waves and the sharp rocks. My feet trembling with each step to the end of the pier as my mind fills with disturbing images.

The savage hold she had of my hair, so tight I was afraid she'd might tear it from my head as she dragged me to the end with her muted and lifeless eyes.

In hindsight, I expected something like this from her considering all the shit she had already put me through.

But this.. This was the most brutal.

I knew if I fought, she'd yank me over the edge and into the water without blinking.

The only thing I kept repeating was, "Mom, I'm sorry." Over and over again. My little six year old mind didn't comprehend that I did nothing wrong.

My mother hated my meir existence.

Still to this day, I believe that if three brothers didn't walk down the pier and spot us, she'd thrown me over.

She couldn't ruin her appearance as a child abuser so she played the part of a doting wife and mother while my brother and I had to find creative ways to hide bruises. Me more so than him.

Dad never knew. If he did, he never said anything.

The wind picks up, making my dark brown hair fly with it as I take one more cautious step to the edge.

I close my eyes and breathe in and only breathe out once I open my eyes.

I look down at the waves crashing against the rocks and wonder how something so beautiful can be so deadly.

I imagine if I jump in now, I'd die as soon as I hit the rocks, barely making it to the water.

I'm not suicidal, but that day still haunts me. After everything she's done, that's the only day I've ever felt like floating.

After a few silent moments, in the distance, I hear footsteps walking up.

I turn around but instantly get knocked off balance, making me fall backward into the waves.

A strong force wraps around my wrist, tugging me away from the edge, so force it steals the breath from my lungs.

My frazzled hair flying in every direction and my focus zero in on the person who effortlessly pulled me with one hand.

I realize moisture gathered up in my eyes, and a big calloused hand wipes the tears off my cheeks.

Dullness eyes peer down at me, and it's when he takes both my hands in his I realize I'm shaking.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, just like years ago at this very same pier I'm apologizing for nothing.

He tucks stray hair behind my ear and takes a slow step back, letting go of my hand.

"What are you doing here, Tiny?" He asks, with a clench in his jaw.

I blushed at the nickname he gave me when we were children and tried and hid my face with my hair. "I don't know."

"Bullshit." He spits.

He looks pissed. The first emotion I've seen of his in years.

I shrug, "I come out here sometimes when it gets too much." I admit

I won't admit that this is my first time i've been at the edge since that night. I owed it to myself to start letting go now that mom is gone.

"What are you doing here?" I feel like I've asked this man this too many times already in the past few days.

Granted, I haven't seen him since he walked out the funeral, but to see him again days later concerns me.

"Public pier." It is, but nobody comes out here since it's considered dangerous. But I'm usually by myself.

He steps back, dragging his focus away from me and to the water behind me, but my focus remains solely on him.

"I remember." A muscle in his jaw twitched, snapping his eyes back to mine.

I stand there, frozen. Breathing so heavy, I can't utter any sound to come out of my mouth.

Just two simple words make me feel like I'm suffocating.

I finally force out "oh" so quietly I was pretty certain he didn't hear me, but the look on his face tells me otherwise.

"Do you?"

I'm shivering at this point. Each breeze on my skin feels so needlelike.

Growing up, he's never asked me what happened, I assumed he only saw me stand back up after my mother released her death grip on my hair, telling him that I tripped over my shoe laces and his two brothers laughed behind him.

Hopefully, that's all he remembers.

"Yes. I tripped, and your brothers laughed at me." I muttered.

He tisks and bends down, letting me get a good look at his haunted brown eyes.

"I need you to do something for me tiny." That damn nickname.

Before I can answer, he grabs my chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilts my face upwards, just a hair.

"Take the mask off when I'm speaking to you." He demands.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I whisper, and he snarls.

"The horror you've seen is not who you are tiny." Lexington Ledger states, softening his tone as best as he can.

"Am I supposed to feel grateful to survive that?" A few tears fall down my face, and the pads of his thumbs wipe them away as he leans in.

"It didn't break you. It built you Tiny Til." 

All I can focus on is his soft words and the way his breath is caressing my parted lips.

Mint and a hint of woodsy smell lingers around him, and I try and breathe him in.

His golden eyes dip down to my lips, tracing them.

I close my eyes, hoping that he leans in just a bit more so I can feel his soft lips on mine, but after a few seconds pass, I open my eyes and notice that I'm alone.