Anything But Daddy's Angel

5.

•FLASHBACK TO A YEAR BEFORE•

"Now I need you to close your eyes," my therapist speaks softly and calmly as she sits next to me as I lay on my back.

I nod and do as I'm told.

"Relive that moment," she speaks softly.

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I feel the cool metal running down my bare breasts. I feel the cold, hard wall against my back. His rough hands guiding themselves in between my thighs. I hear my own voice, shaky and scared.

I hear myself tell Lucas to take our children away from the horror that would soon be unleashing.

I think to myself as this man has his way with me, 'this man is going to rape you and you'll have to be quiet so you don't scare your kids. You'll have to immediately go to the hospital to check on the health status of your unborn child.

My thoughts are soon interrupted as a loud bang sirens through the house. I hear a quick thud, and metal hitting the ground. I feel a warm spatter on my face. I hear my babies screaming from down the hall, crying from sudden fear of whatever made the noise. I fall to the ground, relieved from the weight of the man pushing me on the wall. I pull my hands to my face and look at them slowly. The red liquid runs slowly down my fingers, blood. I look at Lucas as he puts his warm jacket over my exposed upper body.

"This isn't my blood. This isn't my blood. This isn't my blood," I repeat as if I'm a broken record. He calms me down a little by whispering lightly to me and at this point the kids' screams haven't stopped and are just as shrill as when they started.

I slowly turn my head and all I see is a pair of legs, oddly positioned and a man's hips pointing towards the wall I was pressed against. Then Lucas pulls my head into the crook of his neck.

"Don't look baby," I hear his whisper.

I hear the kids screaming from our blocked off bedroom around the corner.

"Lucas," I feel the lump in my throats again, "is he dead?"

He stares at me before nodding.

As he stands to go get the kids, so we can go to the police station I slowly do what I was told not to. I look.

The man on my floor is unrecognizable. His gun is dropped about a foot away from his abdomen. His face is distorted as the bullet wound disfigured him. The blood and chunks on the wall and ground, clearly from the gunshot being so close. An eye is laying by itself on the floor about a foot away. I just stare.

"Liz! I told you to not look at it!" He comes running to my side from the garage.

I lean to my left and vomit. My last 20 days worth of food is now on the ground.

Lucas just holds my hair back and rubs my back, "let it out."

I slide myself back against the wall quickly and curl my knees to my chest.

Images of my crying babies. The cold feel of the gun on my forehead. Lucas' face as I was pinned to the wall. It all flashes through my head as if to recap what I just relived.

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I snap awake and breathe heavily.

"It's okay," she speaks softly, "you're safe. I'm here, you're safe."

I pull myself up softly and look at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact.

"Why do you do that?" She asks, pen in hand as if this is an interview instead of therapy session.

"Do what?" I move my attention to the bookshelf directly in front of me, across the room.

"That," she speaks up a little, "avoid eye contact. Every time we bring back memories, you avoid looking at me," she writes down some unknown message on her notepad.

"I don't know," I answer, knowing damn well that's a lie.

"Are you ashamed?" She asks that one question that I never wanted to here.

"You know what?," I state flatly.

"Elizabeth," she says, her eyes darting across the room at something.

I slowly turn my head towards her and look her dead in the eye, "I'm ashamed, sad, angry, embarrassed, and disgusted. I should've done something. Because of me not fighting back, my husband had to shoot his own father in the face. I had to hear my children scream and all I could do was stand a against a wall while a man forced himself on me, and because of that I feel like the shittiest mother to ever walk the Earth. I hate myself because I couldn't be the mother my children needed me to be. I disgust myself because I wasn't as strong as I needed to be. And I loathe myself for not being the wife my husband needed me to be. Now what did you need to say, doc?" I let the tears stream slowly as I examine her face.

"I, uhm," she clears her throat and quickly scribbles on the yellow paper again, "was trying to tell you that our session had ended."

I hear a cough come from behind me. I whip my head around to see Lucas, teary eyed in the doorway, staring at me.

"I'm going to prescribe some antidepressants and sleeping pills to help with the nightmares," she speaks softly and hands me a slip of paper. I deftly take it and place it in my pocket. Making my way past my husband and out the door.

"Elizabeth," he says my full name, which isn't normal, and grabs onto my arm. I pull myself from him and continue walking, avoiding eye contact.

"I love you," he chokes out as we make our way outside.

"You too."

He grabs my arm and pulls me to face him, "I. Love. You."

I see the tears forming in his bloodshot eyes.

"I love you too," I let go. I cry and cry and cry some more.

He smiles, happy that I've finally broken, I feel like I'm becoming more human. Like something that needed to be said for weeks was finally out in the open. I grab onto him and wiggle myself into his arms, into a very emotional and very needed hug.

•END OF FLASHBACK•