"My mom-m," he said with a crack in his voice, "was not always the best person to be around."
"What are you talking about?" I asked in confusion.
He starred deeply into my eyes and I watch as he observed me with uncertainty. A pain expression flicker across his face before he tilted his head down and stared at the ground. I scooted closer to him, taking the opportunity to get him to open up to me. I was tired of the game we were playing. One step forward, a billion steps backwards, but today I was taking a HUGE leap forward because I refused to have him shut himself down. I reached out and lifted his face towards me.
"You know you can tell me anything right," I whispered softly. I felt his jaw go ridged underneath my touch and watch as his body went tense before closing his eyes.
"Please, I begged, "you can trust me."
"But I can't. I couldn't even trust my own fucking mother!" He yelled with a sudden rage overcoming his once tense form. He stood up abruptly. He was like a ticking time bomb ready to bust. I watched as he moved towards a tree and punch it.
"What are you doing??" I yelled finally snapping out of my daze. "I know you're hurting but there's better ways to handle it. This... I gestured to his bruised knuckles, "Isn't it. So please tell me what's wrong. One minute your fine then the next you are exploding on me."
"Can't you tell," he said while laying his head on the tree. "I'm damage goods." It was then I heard a heart-wrenching sob escape him. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even handle MY own tears, nonetheless someone else's. I stared at him and watch the tears stream down his face. After a while, I grabbed his hands and brought him back down to the ground with me and laid his head on my lap. I felt his tears soak my pants legs, but I didn't mind. He obviously needed to grieve, but over what. I passed time grooming my fingers through his smooth, silky hair. We were left in silence and that's what he needed. He needed the silence to scream the truth of the words he couldn't say yet. As every minute passed, I was left filling in the puzzle pieces of what could have happened. Finally, after his sobs turn into soft hiccups I asked the question I was afraid to hear the answer to...
"Stephen were you molested?"
YOU ARE READING
BitterSweet (Editing){Complete}
Romance"Life is bittersweet... But the further you travel the less it will become bitter and the more it will be sweet. Bittersweet." Ariel. It's an ironic name considering she wasn't a mermaid that was anywhere close to getting her happy ending. Pleas...
