Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“I’m a man,” Drake says, as he paces the width of the stage. “I’m not supposed to be weak. I’m not supposed to ask for help. We solve all our own problems, right?”
An echo of understanding runs through the room before he continues.
I feel like the biggest jerk in the world as he continues to talk about how he was groomed for years to think that the abuse he was suffering was deserved, and I grow angrier and angrier with each word he speaks. Man, woman, or child, no one deserves to be hurt. No one deserves to feel like they are less than anyone else.
He speaks of being trapped, a prisoner despite there being no physical walls to prevent him from leaving. He speaks of loving the man that was hurting him, of thinking he deserved the pain he suffered because that’s what he was conditioned to believe. He explains that although he didn’t exactly come from a happy home, he knew what real loved looked like. His parents weren’t accepting of him, but they loved each other fiercely. Yet, he couldn’t accept that he deserved love himself. He spoke of broken bonds and mistrust, of the struggle in learning that the things he was forced to endure weren’t okay.
It speaks to me in a way I never thought possible.
My situation and his are completely different. Our indoctrinations weren’t approached the same, but at the end of the day, they look very similar. He was abused with hands and fists. I was crushed and conquered by the threat of Hell and disappointing God.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I feel no shame by the time he’s done. There isn’t a dry eye in the house.
“Did you know any of that?” Alyssa asks.
I shake my head rather than snapping at her which is my first instinct, but that anger is also misplaced.
I accused him of disrespecting those in attendance with his presence, but I’m the one who has no right to be here.
I watch him leave the stage, but I lose him in the crowd.
I know I should apologize, but after looking for him for twenty minutes, I give up.
The man doesn’t want my apologies. Just like he spoke about on stage, I made assumptions about him. I was the one that messed up, not him.
I’d probably mess up the apology since I can’t seem to clear my emotions from my throat.
I find a couple of the others standing near the exit and make my way in their direction.
“That makes me see him in a different light,” Harley says.
“I don’t think he wants that,” Slick says.
“Dr. Alverez never mentioned him,” I say, feeling a little betrayed at being blindsided by him taking the stage.
“She wouldn’t,” Slick says. “As psychologists, we don’t talk about clients. That information had to come directly from him.”
I watch Slick as her eyes drop to the cup of fruit punch in her hands. Things have been different for her since she came back from Albuquerque. She was by Aro’s side for weeks and weeks before coming back to Farmington. Ugly is there with him now. I’ve accompanied her on several rides, also needing to be close to someone yet being unwilling to speak. It’s worked out for us.
As the event draws to a close I wonder if I’ll ever lay eyes on Drake again.
I feel like a complete judgmental asshole as I climb behind the wheel of the SUV when it’s over.
“It was a nice event,” Alyssa says from the back seat, her hand firmly clasped in Harley’s.
“It was,” I agree, my eyes scanning the parking lot for Drake’s car but coming up empty.
He must’ve told his story and took off. I fight the urge to head to the bar to look for him, knowing full well that if I was alone, I’d turn right instead of left at the stop light.
Chapter 6
Drake
I’m an incredibly personable man. I learned long ago how to smile through the pain, how to not let on what my mood really was. I was a quick study of how to control my emotions because not doing so meant loads of trouble for me. Some might call my behavior fake or tell me I’m a fraud, but I don’t see the point in taking my bad mood out on someone who didn’t create it.
The problem with all of it is that bad moods tend to build. A minor irritation one day has the power to fester and grow if it isn’t dealt with.
That’s how the last month has been, more than four weeks of watching the front door at Jake’s, waiting for Boomer to walk back in.
I took off after telling my story, one I was encouraged to share by Dr. Alverez because she was sure it would help people understand the complexities of domestic abuse rather than making quick judgments about it. I was apprehensive to do it before getting on the stage and even more nervous after Boomer made those assumptions.