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Eighteen

That night, Mitch and I finally decided to tell our children about our past. Not all of it, but some of it.

It wasn't until a few days later that we were able to have Carson over as well.

It was the 25th of October, and I knew Mitch had somewhere to be. So, with Maddie in the car, like every other year, we drove to the cemetery. About seven years ago, a third headstone was laid on the other side of Tuesday's, opposite of Wednesday's. It was Thursday's.

Just like every year before, there, standing at the grave, were four other people. Monday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

I stayed in the car, watching as Mitch walked up to them and the girls all hugged him, Friday watching him momentarily before looking back down at the headstones.

Mitch knelt down beside Wednesday's headstone and even from here, I knew he was crying harder than he had for a long time.

"Dad? Who are these people?" The same question Maddie asked every year.

"I will tell you later." I promised and my attention went back to Mitch, who now had Monday at his side.

Saturday leaned into Sunday as their hands intertwined. Sunday looked as innocent as ever, hair still shoulder length, eyes still wide and blue. But Saturday was much different. Her mousey brown hair was cut short on the led side, all hair falling on the right side, into her face. She dressed a lot less like she had when she was younger.

Friday was still wild haired and crazy styled, but he didn't seem to be as eccentric as he had been in past years.

Mitch had moved over to Tuesday's and was crying even more, left hand going to his right shoulder blade. The place where one of his owners had seared their insignia into his skin.

He had told me, once, that it was Wednesday who had placed it there, under the instruction of the Wilford's. He had also told me once the Maddie looked like Tuesday. Same skin tone and eyes.

At last, Mitch stood up, scrubbed his eyes and turned back to the car, walking over and climbing in silently.

Mitch his himself away for the rest of the day. Around six or seven, Carson came over and I managed to usher everyone into the living room.

"What is this about?" He asked as we all sat in our family room, Mitch loaned into my chest, fingers tracing absent minded circles on my knee as he stated at the ground.

"Your father and I have something to tell you. Something that is long past due." I told them and gently nudged Mitch.

"-ll my fault." He said with a small start, much like my father did when he was sleeping and someone woke him up.

" Mitch. It's not your fault. It hasn't been to It fault in the last fourteen years since it happened. Now come on. Please? Focus? It will take your mind off of him."

I could see the confusion on our children's faces and sighed. But before I could start, Mitch did for me.

"You know, my children are smarter than I am." He said and the two went to protest, but he cut them off.

"I mean it. Carson and Maddie, both of you have gone further than I had ever. I was a Senior in High School when I was dragged into hell. Maybe it wasn't actually Hell, but for a seventeen year old in a situation like that, it might as well have been." He paused for a breath, and I studied my children.

"Do you remember that story from the news I had watched repeatedly, the one about the man names Alexander Kirk?"

"Yes. I also remember you crying and mumbling someone to dad a long the lines of 'It's over. It's all over.'" Carson informed use and I couldn't help but smiled to myself.

"Yeah, well, he is the man that got me into this."

For the next few hours, I told my story. Even if they were my kids, I was still very open about everything. Even my rape.

I told them about Tuesday and Wednesday.

"Those two graves, three now, that I visit every year, are Thirteen year old Wednesday and her eighteen year old brother Tuesday. Wednesday was killed by infection and various other poor conditions. Tuesday took his own life." I noticed how he kept it factual and tried to be as distant as he could from these things. "Tuesday and I suffered the last year's before our rescue together."

I rubbed his back as he stopped again and then continued on with the story. I noticed how Mitch had left me completely out of the picture and I wondered why.

"But, how did you and Dad meet?" Maddie finally asked and Mitch straightened up a little.

"Oh, I forgot. Scott was the one who saved me, not just from the trade, but from myself. Same year I was rescued, I was almost successful in taking my own life, but Scott managed to save me once again. He was the one that made living bearable. He constantly visited me when I was in the Group home."

Again, he told them more and more about his life, and I knew he was trying to use as many details as he could to paint this picture for our children.

"After all of this, I had survived abuse, rape, suicide, and AIDS. But the AIDS isn't finished with me yet. I have Kaposi's Sarcoma. It is a type of cancer people like me commonly get. With treatment, I should live for another year, at least, maybe even longer than that."

Little did I know then, listening to him talk about it, that his hopeful tone would not save him in the end.

I wish I could have taken this from him, or that I could go back in time as stop myself from ever bringing him into this.

It was all my fault.

~°~
Woohoo! Two in less than a freaking hour! Only a few chapters left. This book may be longer than I meant.

Do you guys want me to give you a book of Experpts and things from this series?

Oh, and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤💛💚💙💜