Chapter 128 A CONFESSION.
ACE’S POINT OF VIEW.
The air around us felt suddenly still as our laughter died.
I could feel the nerves on the back of my neck spiking as I stared at Amara. Dressed in my hoodie, which stopped mid-thigh, I could not help but think. My mind reverted to her parents, to the love they shared that was so powerful, it found them years later.
I never believed in love, especially because it was never a possibility with the kind of home I came from… it was that hell hole that could ever be called a home.
I swallowed the dry feeling in my throat and faced the peppers frying in the cooker. I needed something to distract me, so I wouldn’t see the look of disgust in her eyes from what I was about to tell her.
‘But what if she decides to leave you… What will you do then?’ my subconscious whispered, and the thought of it struck a feeling of panic through me. I don’t know if I’d be able to survive that. Amara showed me a future I never thought I would see… a future I never thought possible.
“I’m starving.” She said, her lips thinning over the toast she’d burned.
I didn’t know when the words left my lips. “You don’t know what it is to starve.” My tone was low, almost detached, and that’s because I was dissociating; my mind needed to protect me from the path of pain I was about to tread on again.
“You know……your parents make me think about something,” I said, swiftly changing the subject before she would ask what I’d meant, as I poured the eggs into the pan. She really loved this style of fried eggs, so I resigned myself to making it for her any day I could.
I watched her from the corner of my eye discreetly. She was seated on my counter, her legs swinging lazily as she slurped on her mango smoothie. It was her second cup of the damn thing. And honestly, I don’t think I ever see my girl growing out of it.
Perhaps I should have said something stupid again; I should have made her laugh instead, but all I could feel was an utter sense of dread, like I needed to tell her this immediately, or I would never be able to anymore.
“What’s that?” She asked, and resumed her slurping of the thick liquid, which was more of ice cream than a smoothie, but she said, ‘As long as it’s fruit, it’s healthy.’
Whatever does that even mean?
I don’t even know how normal people slurp ice cream….but my girl was anything but normal. The thought of it always brought a smile to my face.
My girl was crazy….But I needed her like that.
“You talk about your parents like love’s some miracle. It crawled its way through hell and came back stronger, even after facing all that shit, it still came back, and hell, it’ll probably face more with your stepmother being… well, herself, but still, they’re ready to face that head on”
I said with a sad smile, as my mind drifted to the woman who supposedly gave me life. “You’re lucky,” I said, the word rolling from my lips easily, even though my chest felt like it was constricting. “Because mine never did.”
The confession hung there.
My hands stilled over the pan for a moment before I flipped the eggs. The oil splashed a bit, causing the fire to flicker slightly, but all I could focus on was the feeling of being cold and hot at the same time, as my mind pulled open boxes that I’d shut after years of therapy.
She didn’t move. She didn’t even push; she rather just watched me with that kind of quiet that makes it impossible to lie. I drew in a shuddering breath, as the sight of the red curtains came back in view…the smell of alcohol, cocaine, and sex which would hang in the air and never leave, regardless of how many times I cleaned the small room she occupied in the brothel.
“My mother,” I said finally, the name alone making my chest tighten, “she wasn’t much of a mother, more like a vessel used for birthing. The minute I was born, I’m pretty sure I was abandoned.” I said as I transferred the eggs from the pan to a flat plate. I acted like my words didn’t bother me, like they didn’t have an effect on me. I needed to do something else now that the eggs were done, so I grabbed a knife, more vegetables, and started chopping away.
The memory of how I’d learned to cook came to mind as well.
“You know….I had to learn to cook at the age of six. It wasn’t like I’d had much of a choice anyway, my mother never bothered with feeding me.”
“What? There’s no way you did that as a child.” She said, her cup was now by her side, as she gave me her undivided attention.
“I had no choice, Amara.” My lips felt dry again, so I licked them for the sixth time in the past five minutes. “My mother was a cheap whore who worked in the most notorious brothel in all of Ravenshore, and ironically enough, she was the most popular.” I heard her let out a sharp gasp at my revelation, but I carried on regardless, my focus on the vegetables I was chopping.
“She used to tell me that the world owed her. That men owed her, hell, she thought that I owed her, and that she would collect her pay soon enough. That I should be grateful for every night we had a roof.” I laughed, the sound low and bitter. “When the money stopped coming because the men thought she was too old, she found another way. I never thought the way her customers looked at me every time they walked in mattered. All I did was turn my back to them as she commanded, and tried to block out their noises as much as I could. Whether it would be by imagining a life where I didn’t have to suffer that, or the image of the cartoon I’d seen while on my way from running errands at the film shop, I did what I could to not…hear them.” My skin crawled with disgust at the flashback that hit me. I could hear my mother's screams like we were still in that small room with glittery red curtains and dim blue lights.
It was why I hated the colours so much, but ironically enough, the girl I loved wore those colours at least three times a week.
Her lips parted, her beautiful eyes wide — but she didn’t speak. And God, I was glad she didn’t.
“I was eight the first time she brought one of them home for me.” My jaw clenched. “A customer. It was the very one who’d said I had the most youthful look he’d ever seen. I remember trying so hard to look small in that moment, I wished so hard that the walls would hide me, but if wishes were horses, right?” I said with a sad smile, while avoiding her gaze. I didn’t even realise it, but I was done chopping the vegetables. My hands itched with the need to do something else, so I grabbed the flour and got to making cookies instead. “She’d told me that if I just let it happen, she’d buy me new shoes.”
Her breath hitched — a soft, pained whimper escaped her, as she got off the counter slowly, and walked over to me.
My mind pulled me further into the haze, even as I fought it so I wouldn't drown under the weight of the trauma. Her soft hand made contact with mine, forcing my hands still instantly. She pulled me softly and wrapped her arms around my neck so she could pull me into a hug.
“It’s okay….you can tell me.”
Instantly, it was as though someone breathed strength into me, as the haze disappeared instantly, along with the image of the curtains and the dim blue light. All I could see, feel, smell, and hold was her, and all of a sudden, the words felt less heavy as I spoke them.