Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 34 | The Ballad Of Aria St. Dua

Done in Aria POV
April 23, 2023

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of Charles' hand in mine, his thumb gently stroking my skin. It's grounding me, pulling me out of the nerves I feel every time I think about telling someone my story. I've never told anyone the whole truth, not like this. But as I look into his eyes, filled with such warmth and understanding, I know I need to let him in. He deserves to know who I am, and why I am the way I am. 

"It started when I was really young," my voice barely above a whisper. "I was five. I remember...I remember my dad yelling all the time. He was always angry, always drinking." 

The words feel heavy as they leave my mouth, and memories from my childhood rush back. I can almost hear the slamming doors, the screaming, the crashing sounds of bottles hitting the walls. 

"My mom tried to protect me, I was her only child," I continue, my eyes hazing as I start to drift back into those memories. "She did her best, but it wasn't enough. He would scream at her, call her names...sometimes it got physical. I remember hiding under my bed, covering my ears, hoping it would just stop...but it never did, it only got worse." 

I glance at Charles, who's still watching me with such intent, his eyes never leaving mine. He doesn't say a word, just listens. 

"When I was six...things got worse," I say, my voice cracking slightly as I recount the hardest part. "One night, after dinner, I asked my dad if I could have a cookie. It was such a small thing, right? I was just a young girl, it was just a simple question. But he snapped. He grabbed me by the arm, dragged me to the pantry, and locked me in there." 

I pause, feeling the sting of the memory, the fear that still lingers after all these years. I can feel my chest tighten, my throat closing in on itself as I relive that night. 

"I...I was in there for hours. It was so dark, and I was so scared. I kept banging on the door, crying, begging him to let me out, but he never did. I don't even remember how long I was in there. Eventually, my mom found me. By then, I was...I was barely conscious. She took me to the hospital." 

I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. "They had to treat me for dehydration and exhaustion. I remember lying in that hospital bed, so confused, not understanding why my dad would do something like that. Your dad is supposed to love you unconditionally, right?" 

The silence that follows is thick, and I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. I've cried enough over this, I refused to cry anymore. Charles gently squeezes my hand, his eyes never looking away from mine. He's still so quiet, but his expression says everything, he's hurting for me, for the child I was. 

"That was the beginning of the end for my parents," I add softly. "My mom finally left him after that. But the damage...it was already done. I spent so many years wondering what I did wrong, why I wasn't enough for him to love me. I know now that it wasn't my fault, but..." 

I take a deep breath, knowing this next part is even harder to tell. Charles is still holding me, his presence grounding me as I prepare to share more of my story. It feels like opening a wound I've kept buried, but I know I have to. 

"After that night in the hospital, we moved in with my grandparents. It was a fresh start, in a way. My grandparents... they were everything to me. They were the ones who helped me heal, who made me feel safe and loved again." 

I feel a sense of warmth as I remember those days. "My grandparents' house was small but filled with love, something I had never truly experienced before. They helped me feel like I could be normal again," I say, smiling at the memory.