"There you are!" my daughter Audrie shouts enthusiastically as I walk through the door, already bounding towards me, her bare feet making a little pitter patter on our hardwood floor.
My heart races and my mind clears the moment she leaps into my arms, the aches melt away as I heave her up against my chest and gaze at her brilliant smile, her bright green eyes and her curly blonde hair tied back into two ponytails.
"Sorry bunny, daddy had to go to a meeting after work" I use my free hand to pinch her cheek, "where's mommy?"
Audrie points to the kitchen, "macaroni and cheese" she explains. I follow her finger to our kitchen and there she is, the light of our life; my wife and Audrie's mother, Grace Martin.
"Isaac, baby!" her voice is as soft as her pale white skin, "you're finally here to do the dishes" she teases.
I plop Audrie down on the floor, she runs over and hugs Grace around the legs, latching tight so she can't move anymore. Joining them, I hold both of them, embracing Grace with Audrie between us. Kissing grace repeatedly, Audrie makes a face and says ewwww like she always does. This is the forever I've always dreamt of, moments like these are what remind me that everything I do is worth it in the end.
"I guess I'll do the dishes, your highness" I groan sarcastically as we release eachother, "if it is thine command"
Grace rolls her eyes in her response before returning to grating cheese and cracking eggs into a mixture and stirring the boiling elbow noodles. I walk to the sink and roll up my sleeves, and there they are, like they always have been and will be for a long time. Marks of my shame.
It doesn't phase me like it used to, truth be told I like looking at them, a reminder of my glory days when I had the freedom. Maladaptive thoughts that I've taught myself to counter or ignore. I turn on the sink and begin to rinse the cocoa pebbles and sticky oatmeal out of the bowls and the barbecue sauce from the plates.
Audrie shuffles up to me and tugs on my shirt, I know the cue, she wants to help with the dishes. I dry my hands and heave her up on the counter and hand her a clean dish towel so she can dry them as I wash. She happily works away drying one after another until there is one item remaining to be washed; a large chefs knife.
I pick it up and soak it, using a sponge to soap it up. Intrusive thoughts are an interesting thing, everybody has them; anytime you're driving and think suddenly you could crash if you wanted or open the door and jump out, that's an intrusive thought. Only few people ever act on such a thing. Another lovely intrusive thought is when you're washing a kitchen knife and you think about running the blade over and over against your wrist until the sink runs red.
"Daddy?" Audrie looks at the knife then at me.
A wave of panic rushes over me, I look over my arms, inspecting to ensure I haven't turned an intrusive thought into an intrusive action in front of my six-year old daughter. Letting out a sigh of relief I come up with a quick excuse.
"Sorry bunny" I smile, "I was just thinking we should put some fried chicken in the macaroni tonight, what do you think?"
Audrie smiles in confirmation.
YOU ARE READING
Healed
Short StorySometimes the hardest part of recovery is accepting that it's successful. For Isaac Martin, even a perfect life with his beautiful wife and daughter isn't enough to make him forget his past. Blades still call out his name, and his skin begs to be pi...
