⊰ 17 ⊱ My Refuge: Part 2

I linger on the memory for a moment longer, my heart racing in my chest. As I blink out of my thoughts, I notice Katherine is watching me closely, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Levi slapped me once,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “When I was fifteen. We were arguing about money, and I said something awful to him. I told him…” I sigh, battling my hesitation as I breathe out, “I told him I wished he had died instead of our parents.”

I glance up at Katherine, expecting to see judgment in her eyes, condemnation. But instead, I find only compassion, a deep understanding that makes my throat tighten.

“He felt terrible about it,” I continue, my gaze dropping to my lap. “He apologized right away, and he never did it again. I think… I think that’s why I never blamed him for it. Because I knew how much it hurt him, how much he regretted it.”

She leans forward, her forearms resting on her crossed legs. “Mercy,” she says gently, her voice firm but kind. “It’s never okay for someone to hit you, especially not because they’re angry. No matter what you said or did. Levi may have regretted his actions, but that doesn’t make them any less wrong.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my mind grasping for a way to justify Levi’s behavior, to make sense of the twisted logic that’s governed my life for so long. “People spank their kids when they’re trying to discipline them,” I argue weakly. “How is that any different? I was disrespectful, at best.”

She shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Levi is not your father, Mercy. He’s your brother, who’s only three years older than you. And he didn’t spank you, he slapped you. There’s a big difference. What he did wasn’t discipline, it was violence. It was abuse.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from my lungs. I’ve never thought of it that way before, never allowed myself to see the situation for what it truly was. But hearing it laid out so plainly…it’s like a veil has been lifted from my eyes.

*I guess that makes sense.*

She watches me closely, her gaze studying me. “That one slap was all it took for you to submit to Levi completely, wasn’t it?” she asks softly, her voice devoid of judgment.

I nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I was so afraid of losing him,” I whisper, my voice choked. “He was all I had left. I couldn’t…I couldn’t risk pushing him away.”

She reaches out, her hand resting gently on my knee. “I understand that fear, Mercy. But submitting to someone out of fear, out of a desperate need to keep them in your life…it’s not healthy. It’s not a true partnership.”

I know she’s right. I know that the dynamic between Levi and I has always been imbalanced, always tinged with a hint of something darker. But facing that truth, acknowledging the scars that run so deep…it’s almost more than I can bear.

“What about Marcel?” she asks softly. “Has he ever hit you?”

Immediately, I feel my hackles rise, a defensive anger surging through me. “No,” I snap, my voice harsh. “He would never.”

She holds up her hands in a placating gesture, her expression calm and neutral. “I’m not making accusations,” she assures me. “I just want to understand the dynamics of your relationship, that’s all.”

I hesitate, my mind drifting to the times Marcel and I have been intimate, the way his hands feel on my body, the delicious sting of his palm against my skin. “I like it when he does it,” I admit quietly, my cheeks flushing with heat.

Katherine tilts her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “How so?” she prompts gently.

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed. “When we’re in bed,” I mumble, my gaze fixed on my hands. “I don’t know. I just…I like it.”

She nods, her expression thoughtful. “And what if he did it the way Levi did?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral. “Outside of the bedroom, in anger. Would you still enjoy it then?”

I exhale deeply, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. My mind flashes back to the day I told Marcel about the CIA, the way he grabbed, the bruises he left on my skin. A part of me knows that if he had slapped me then, I would have been grateful for it. I would’ve welcomed the pain as a distraction from the anguish in his eyes, the disappointment, the disgust.

“If he did, I probably did something really bad,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Katherine is silent for a moment, her gaze searching mine. “If you saw Levi slap his girlfriend, Eboni, because she did something to anger him,” she finally says, her voice soft but firm. “Or if you saw Marcel slap his sister, Alessandra. Would you think it was justified?”

“No,” I say immediately, the word bursting from my lips before I can even think. The idea of Levi and Marcel raising a hand to the women they love…it fills me with a fierce protective anger, a visceral disgust. “No, of course not.”

Katherine nods, her expression somber. “So why do you think it’s okay for them to do it to you?” she asks gently, her words like a knife to the heart.

I feel tears well in my eyes, a knot forming at the edge of my throat. I know the answer, even if I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

*Because I deserve it.*

…

*Because I’m not good enough, not strong enough, not worthy of their love and respect.*

…

*Because there’s something fundamentally broken inside me, something that needs to be punished.*

Katherine sighs, leaning back in her chair. “You want to know what I think?” she asks softly, her gaze compassionate.

“No,” I mutter, my voice choked with tears. “Not really.”

But she presses on, undeterred. “I think you have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror,” she says gently, her words like a balm to my battered soul. “I think all you see are the parts of you that you hate, the parts that you blame for everything that’s gone wrong in your life. And when you do things that upset the people you love, you allow them to hurt you as a way of punishing yourself, of atoning for your sins.”

A sob catches in my throat, tears spilling down my cheeks. I shake my head, desperately trying to deny the truth of her words. But deep down, I know she’s right. I’ve always known.

“You need to learn to love yourself, Mercy,” Katherine says softly, her voice filled with a quiet conviction. “You need to learn to see yourself the way the people who love you see you. As someone *worthy* of love, of respect, of happiness.”

I let out a shuddering breath, my shoulders shaking with the force of my tears. “How am I supposed to do that?” I ask brokenly, my voice small and lost. “How can I love myself when there’s nothing about me that I like?”

She leans forward, her hand resting gently on my knee. “Do you believe in God, Mercy?” she asks softly, her voice filled with a quiet understanding.

I shrug, taking the tissue she offers me and dabbing at my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice thick. “Sometimes, I guess. But other times…it’s hard to believe in a God that would let so much bad happen to good people.”

She nods, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t know why things happen,” she says gently. “But I think that even in the darkest of times, even when we feel lost and alone, God is there with us. Loving us, guiding us, helping us to find our way.”

She takes my hand in hers, her skin warm and comforting against mine. “Mercy, you are a child of God,” she says softly, her voice filled with conviction. “You are loved, you are cherished, you are worthy. And no matter what anyone else says or does, no matter how much you might hate yourself…that will never change. He made you perfectly.”

I feel something break inside me, a dam bursting, a weight lifting from my shoulders. I let out a gasping sob, my body shaking with the force of my emotions. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I allow myself to *really* cry, to truly feel the pain, the anger, and the grief I’ve been carrying for so long.

She holds me as I weep, her arms steady around me, her voice a soothing murmur in my ear as she says, “Jesus loves you.”

I believe her. I don’t know why, but I do. And in that moment, I feel a glimmer of something I’ve never felt before.

Hope.

Hope that maybe, just maybe, I’m not completely and utterly broken and lost. That in this darkness, there is a light, and I’m not alone.