Liberation [completed]

Story Time- Mia

I stare out the window, I wasn't really looking at the people so much as just staring into blank space. I was disappointed, that's all. I was done going through every other emotion I felt for my father. I was just disappointed and it was time I came to terms with it.

"Hi" Asher greets me cautiously as he moves around the sofa to where I was seated on the floor. Asher's shirt was crumpled in some places while his hair was messed up and poking out in different directions. He looked sexy as always. 

I stand up and turn to him, "Hi" I greet nervously and move to stand up in front of him.

Asher checks my face, this must be the first time in a while he's come home and I haven't been in my depressed state or crying. He takes his time to study my face and I wait for him. "How have you been today?" he finally asks me.

"Better, I think I'll be fine...I hope" I report nervously but optimistically.

He presses his lips into a hard line, worry evident in his eyes. Then as if it was never there, his face transforms to fill one filled with lust and love. He looked so conflicted and pained as he leans down and presses his lips to mine. I try to decipher his mood but the kiss was too overpowering, he drew me in and I lean into him, asking for more. It wasn't a passionate kiss, it was just a kiss.

"He came to my office today," he tells me the minute we pull away and I understand why he seemed so conflicted earlier.

I sigh, wondering when this will ever leave me alone. I just wanted it to end, this pain, the disappointment, the whole saga. I was tired of it. I wanted to move on with my life. Yet, I didn't want to as well, I wanted to talk it out with my father and understand. This was why I was always so torn and conflicted, I couldn't decide what I even wanted. 

"I spoke to him....." He continues slowly taking my hand and leading me back to the sofa. "He said, he tried to look for you when he was better and well off, he found your location seven years ago, but the social worker you were under told him you had died in an accident....and then he rambled on about feeling so lost and regretful and all that bullshit," He says dismissively, his tone expresses his irritation and distrust in my father but my mind was doing the work, trying to do the math and connect the dots. 

Seven years ago, I was sixteen, I look up at Asher nervously but hopefully "He thought I was dead?" I ask him nervously, I could hear my breath shaking. Sixteen was when it all began with him, or at least it came out in the open. 

"Yeah, but obviously that's a load of bullshit. I don't trust him" he tells me protectively, "And you don't have to-" 

"No...it makes sense Asher," I say holding my head in my hands and feeling sick from how far those people had gone to torture me. I was innocent in all of it, that teenager was innocent, trying to survive. Why couldn't they just let her go? Why couldn't they have just let me be? 

"What are you talking about?" Asher asks me in confusion.

"Seven years ago, I was sixteen and living in my last foster house. I was to finish high school there." I stop, trying to figure out the right way to explain this "Let me start again." I say and look at Asher trying to chronologically order everything in my mind.

"My social worker changed after I was in the girl's home cause I was shifted to a Las Vegas. That was around fourteen. He was really nice to me and he'd get me things and come check up on me when I was at the foster homes. I really thought he was a nice guy. When I turned sixteen, he made his first move. My foster parents didn't like having too many teens in the house and they wanted to get rid of me. He gave me an ultimatum: Either I give him what he wanted and he gave me a good home, or I don't and he gives me the one at the bottom of the list." I tell him, trying to sound as calm and distant from the story as I could but it was the rawest and recent of it all and thus harder.