erik menendez // if you love me..don't let go

chapter twenty-two

Scarlett's POV

My heart was at the bottom of my stomach. It was a well of pain and angst.

"It started off with massages."

"Most days of the week."

"He forces me to...do things to him."

"I'm not able to stop him."

"I'm scared."

I'm scared. That's what broke me the most. My poor boy was so broken and scared, he couldn't even do anything to save himself from the treacherous people he has to call family. It was absolutely sickening. I never imagined and never wished those words had come out of his mouth.

"I used to think it was normal."

My hand slapped over my mouth when he said those words. He was living his life thinking that was normal.

My shoulders were shaking and tears were endlessly streaming down my face by the time he finished telling me everything.

"Erik." I whimpered, barely able to get any words out. I was incredibly speechless.

His eyes weren't looking at me, but I could see how red they were from the tears that also ran down his cheeks. I brought up a shaky hand to his cheek and wiped away a tear before it completely fell.

"I'm sorry," His voice was shaky. "I'm so sorry." He was now sobbing, his whole body trembling.

"No, no," My arm wrapped around his torso and brought him closer to me. "Do not be sorry. This is not your fault, Erik. You didn't deserve any of this and I am so sorry this happened to you."

"Do you hear me? It is not your fault."

"I hear you." He finally met my eyes, and my heart broke more, if that was even possible. "I just hate that I had to tell you. You shouldn't have the weight of my problems on your shoulders."

All I wanted to do was hold him so tight to me and never let go. He was worried about me. About me, when he should be worried about him. "It had to be done, Erik. You shouldn't be apologizing."

He looked at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. He didn't look like the same man I met in September. Instead, he looked like a little boy I had the need to protect from the world. But I knew I had to protect him. I wouldn't let his father lay another finger on him.

My mind just couldn't wrap around the fact that he's been having this secret that he hid from the world for twelve years. It started when he was six. He hadn't even started puberty yet, he didn't know what was going on.

"Come here," I ran my hand through his hair. "Come here." I whispered, trying to be comforting.

He snuggled up closer to me, his head in the crook of my neck and his arm snaked around my waist. I felt my thin shirt becoming damp from his tears, but I didn't care. I could buy millions of new shirts, but I could never buy him complete happiness. This was the only thing I could do for him, and so therefore he could cry out his eyes on any clothing of mine and I would be okay. As long as he had someone there for him. And that someone would be me. Always.

***

It's like when Erik told me everything he went through, we felt more intertwined with one another. We always found a way to be touching somehow, whether it was just our pinkies or our legs.

And our souls felt more connected too. I understood him better. I could see how and why he barely flinched at his father's harsh words. Because he was used to it. I now knew why he always got as far away as possible from his father. Not just because Jose had a temper, but because he was scared of him. He was scared for his life.

Erik promised he wouldn't allow what his father did to him happen again on this trip. I didn't know how, or if it was true, but I never walked in on it again. I wanted so badly to scream and punch Jose for hurting my boy. I wanted to use him as a punching bag and smack the absolute shit out of him. If he tried to put up a fight, I wouldn't let down until he wasn't able to walk. So he could never touch my boy again. But Erik refused to allow that to happen. He said he could "deal" with it himself. But if he could, he should've done it years ago.

"Are you okay?" I asked Erik, who was currently tucking me under his arm as we watched a movie in his hotel room. We were snuggled up under the comforter, and I even bought some snacks at the corner store on the block. But for some reason, his mood seemed to have shifted. It didn't really look like he was actually watching the movie. In fact, he felt really distant. Although we were touching in all the ways possible, he just didn't feel present. Like he was in his own world.

"No," He admitted, looking down at me. "Not really."

I wanted to cry for him again, but I couldn't produce any more tears. I was completely dried up. "That's okay." I sniffled, putting my hand on his chest. "It's okay to not be okay."

And that was the truth. Obviously, I felt horrible that he wasn't feeling okay. But that's just how life was. He couldn't be feeling happy 24/7. The one thing that I was okay with though, is the fact that he was able to admit that he wasn't okay. He wasn't scared to hide his emotions as if he'd feel "less like a man". He trusted me, and that felt so good. We could work out the bad stuff at another time, but there are points in life where you just have to let out how you're feeling, and you start to feel better.

"You know I more than like you, Scarlett." He muffled into my hair, pressing a soft and long kiss to it.

I looked up at him with a big smile that I knew reached my eyes. "Me too, Erik. I more than like you, too." I leaned forward to kiss his lips, and then I cozied up back against him and payed attention to the movie. Or at least I tried to pay attention. Now my brain was occupied with more than what Erik had gone through. It was also occupied with the fact that he "more than just liked me", and the fact that I did too. I've never felt like that for a boy, what was I supposed to do with that mysterious emotion?