Small Town Love

Chapter 14

The things that we love tell us what we are.

Thomas Aquinas

"It's healing just as it should be," her uncle told her while he was prodding her ribs and Daphne did her best to ignore the uncomfortable twinge she felt at that.

Most of the wounds were closed now, bruises slowly fading from blue and purple to a greenish tint. It didn't hurt as much as it once had anymore, something that Daphne was quite happy about.

"As long as you keep eating and rest, there shouldn't be any scars left," Matthew continued.

Even when there would be scars left, Daphne would just add them to the collection of scars she already had. She knew that her back was covered in a criss-cross of scars, just as her thighs were...it wasn't pretty. Not pretty at all, but she couldn't change it.

So she just didn't wear tank tops or shorts and kept them covered.

"Turn around please," Matthew said with a sigh, and she did as he asked, letting him push up the shirt she wore and take a look at the wounds on her back.

She couldn't help but flinch at his prodding and he stopped for a moment before he continued.

"All finished," Matthew finally said, and she sat up, opening her mouth to thank him, as she caught the look on his face.

He looked thunderous.

And Daphne couldn't help but wonder if that was her fault.

"The scars on your back are old," he said finally and she could just nod, looking back down to her hands that were clenched in her lap. Right at that moment, she would have given everything to have Luke near her. He somehow managed to make all of this better.

"Did your...Did Michelle...did she ever hurt you, Daphne?" Caroline asked softly, sitting down next to her.

No. No, they couldn't...she couldn't...

"It's not your fault, none of this is," Caroline continued, her voice gentle. "I just...honey, did she hurt you?"

"It's...I..." Daphne couldn't bring out the words, her mouth dry, burying her face in her hands. "Sometimes," she finally brought out.

"How often, Daphne?" Matthew asked her quietly, gently pulling her hands away from her face and Daphne just wanted to go hide in a corner and not come out again.

They would know how much of a terrible daughter she had been.

"It wasn't...only if I tried to take..." Daphne brought out, still fighting against the tears that wanted to spill over, against the sobs that wanted to come out, when she remembered. When she remembered every single miserable minute she had because it had always been a choice between not being in pain or having enough money to pay for food.

She forcibly needed to take a deep breath to calm herself to bring the next words over her lips. But once she did...once she did she felt like she couldn't stop again. Not really.

She broke over a decade of silence with her words as they tumbled over her lips, punctuated with a sob, her voice pleading for understanding, for acceptance, for love.

"If I tried to take the alcohol form her or if I...interrupted her and...and one of her boyfriend....or if I wasn't quiet enough...if I was too quiet...if I...if I didn't give her all the money I made, but if I gave it all to her, then we couldn't have paid for rent because she would spend it all in a few days..."

"Oh honey," Caroline soothed, enveloping her in a hug and letting her cry against her shoulder. "It's not your fault."

But it was. All of this was Daphne's fault. All of this was her fault. Her mother was dead because of her because Daphne hadn't tried to help her in any way.