Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Smiling, I stared out the window at the workshop. “He helped me adopt two dogs to keep me safe. And, Mom,” I stopped, swallowing audibly. “I’ve slept.”
There’d been so many nights she’d heard me having nightmares or pacing the halls because I was too scared to go back to sleep after one. Nights when, for no reason, I’d be scared of the dark. So me being able to sleep… It was huge.
The first sob burst out of her, shocking me. I’d expected the same excited reaction from only a minute ago. “Mom?”
“He’s bringing you back,” she wailed. “You needed peace, and we were so scared you’d never get it.”
The words made tears well up in my own eyes, and I felt the first one break free and trail down my cheek at what she’d been carrying with her for so long.
“When you have your own babies, you’ll understand the pain it causes when they’re hurt or sick. You were hurt, honey. So, so hurt,” she choked out, another gut-wrenching sob following.
“And after it, it was like a piece of you died even though you were here. The doctor said the best thing to do was to let you heal mentally and not push you, that it’d come with time…” she trailed off. This time the sounds of her crying were like she was pressing her hand to her mouth. “But it never did.”
Choking through my own tears, I stuttered, “I- I’m suh- so sorry, Mom.”
“Sienna Louise Blake, don’t you ever, ever apologize for what that bitch did to you and the battle you’ve fought every day since it,” she clipped, the swing in her emotions so violent I almost dropped the phone.
“You’re a survivor and a fighter, and there isn’t one person who can say they’d have done it any differently unless they’ve been through something similar. And if they have, my heart goes out to them, because I’ve seen with my own eyes what it does to someone who’s a victim of an attack like that.”
Closing my eyes slowly, I let my head drop forward. She was right, and my therapist had said something similar. Hell, the doctor who’d treated me after it had, too.
There’s a path to healing and recovering, and everyone has their own one to travel down. If you went too fast, your foundations were shaky and filled with cracks. If you took your time, you smoothed out the cracks and you’d be stronger for it.
“Okay,” I whispered, then decided to lighten the moment. “Mom, you said a bad word.”
My dad had a mouth like a sailor, and Mom was always telling him off for it. Before today, I could count on one hand the number of times she’d cursed in front of me. This one today meant I could now do it on two hands.
“Well,” she sniffed, “she is a bitch. A twisted, screwed up bitch, to be precise.”
“That makes eight.” I didn’t have to explain it, she knew I meant I’d heard her swear eight times in my life.
“Twisted motherfucking bitch, then. Let’s make it an even ten.”
Bursting out laughing, I opened my eyes to see the boys chasing each other around. “Wait until you meet the dogs, Mom. You’re going to love them.”
“What does Maddie think?”
“She calls herself auntie and bribes them with treats and wants to babysit them.”
“I meant about your new man,” she said through her laughter. “But I’m not surprised about that, either.”
Crossing to open the door to let them in for a drink, I gave them scratches on the tops of their heads as I answered. “Maddie thinks he’s the bomb. She saw something before I did, pretty much after he covered the scars with a tatt—”
“You got another tattoo?” she screeched, and I hoped Dad wasn’t around her at that moment.
He didn’t like tattoos and had bitten his tongue when I’d gotten the one on my wrist, so I didn’t know how he’d react unless he saw how beautiful it was first.
“I’ve spent eleven years trying to figure out what I wanted over it. In the end, I drew a large crashing wave with birds flying out of it one night when I couldn’t sleep, and I knew it was perfect. The wave symbolizes washing it away, and the birds are carrying away what’s left of it.”
Bracing my hand on the counter, I whispered, “I don’t have the reminder anymore. Before it, I’d see them every time I looked in the mirror or saw my side when I was getting dressed. Now, all I see is something clean. Something beautiful that has strength and power behind it.”
“You’re going to make me cry again,” she choked. “Okay, so your daddy and I need to plan a trip home, it seems. We’ll bring Grams and Grandpa with us to meet your man, too.”