Shy Kinda Love (15 page)

Chapter 23

After finding my own answers in the exercise with the horse, I decide that I’m going to tell Kade as much of my story as I can. I’ll let him decide where we go from there. What terrifies me the most is that I’ll have to tell Kade all of the details I run from every day. I have never shared those details with anyone, so this is another first for me. I’m afraid that he’ll look at me with sympathy and disgust, and any chance we had for a future will be lost in that look. Lost in my past.

After I shower and tell the girls I’ll talk with them tomorrow, I make the trip across the hall. I knock on their door once, then open it slowly. That’s how comfortable we have all gotten with each other; it’s as if we share one big house. As I start to open the door my chest squeezes and I feel like someone took all the air out of the room. I know it’s just my anxiety so I walk through and close the door behind me, taking in the oxygen I know is there. It’s after eleven and no one is in the living room or kitchen, so I make the walk to Kade’s room. Giving myself no time to think, I walk to his bed, pull back the blanket, and climb in next to the warm body I have come to need so much. Without speaking, Kade lifts his arm, waits for me to curl up next to him, then he wraps his arm around my back and rests his cheek on the top of my head. With that, my chest no longer feels tight and the air returns to the room.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Filly,” he whispers in my ear. I nod, knowing he was expecting me to bail on this conversation. I don’t speak right away. I just want to feel him, smell him, and breathe him for a few minutes before I lay my heart on floor at his feet. After those few minutes pass, I take a deep breath and begin.

“Growing up, with both my mom and dad, my life was pretty normal. I had friends and I went to sleepovers. My parents would go to work every day and we would spend the evenings at home, like most families. My mom was wonderful. She would play board games with me, help me with my homework, and talk to me about all the things little girls needed to talk about with their moms. I can still remember every night at bedtime. I would give my dad hugs and tell him goodnight, then my mom would take me to bed. She would either read me a story or she would make up a story to tell me. I loved going to bed every night, just to hear my mom tell me a story and hold me in her arms.”

I smile, remembering those nights. I trace the letters on Kade’s t-shirt as I go on.

“When I was about eleven, I started to notice how much my parents fought and how that fighting seemed to be changing both of them. Our house was really big—I mean like… two stories, five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and live-in basement big. My bedroom was on the second floor on the opposite end of the house from my parents’ room. Several evenings during the week, after I went to bed, I would hear a car arrive and that person would come into our house. Being eleven years old, and curious, I would go look out the window to see the car, or try to see who was walking into the house. It was often someone different. Over time I realized it was the same four or five guys, but they took turns coming, never together. It was a few months after these people started coming around that my parents began to fight.”

I sigh. “Their fights were also at night, after I had gone to bed. Again, being a nosy eleven-year-old—or almost twelve by that point—I tried to listen. I would sneak out of my room and down the hall to the top of the steps. If they were in the living room or kitchen I would be able to hear, but most of the time they were in their room.

“I can remember one time hearing them argue about my dad’s friends, the guys that were coming over, and about money. Mom was crying, telling my dad we didn’t need the money and he needed to get out of this situation. My dad was telling her it was too late, he couldn’t get out. I remember her crying harder and hearing my dad trying to soothe her, but she would just start yelling at him again.”

As I replay this story to Kade, I feel the carpet under my knees where I sat at the top of the steps. I can smell the remnants of the dinner that mom made that night still hanging in the air. I can hear the pain in my mother’s voice as she pleads with my father to find another way. I can taste the salt from my own tears as they silently release the pain of a little girl who knows her world is changing.

Kade places his hand over mine, stopping my finger mid letter. I lift my chin, so I’m looking into his eyes when he asks, “You okay?”

I press my lips together and nod. I draw in another deep breath through my nose and resume my tracing on his shirt. As I watch my finger, I disconnect from the story so I can go on.

“The men never stopped coming. At least once a week I would hear a car and then our front door. Sometimes the men would stay for only a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours. Those late-night visits were never discussed during daylight hours. I don’t know if my parents assumed I was always asleep and didn’t know about the men, or if they were just pretending they never came.

“Although they were never discussed, I could see the impact the visits were having on my parents. My mom tried to be the mom I needed, but she always looked so sad. My dad always looked remorseful. The biggest difference, though, was that my parents never spoke to each other anymore. Actually, they could never even exist in the same room. If I was in the living room doing homework with my mom and my dad came home, he would go straight to another room, only saying hello to me.”

“One day, maybe six months after the fighting began, I came home from school to find a note from my mom. The note simply said that she had to leave. That she loved me, she would be back one day, but she had to go.”

I feel Kade’s arm get tighter around my waist, letting me know he’s listening, but never interrupting. I blink back the tears and go on. “I was only a kid. I had no idea what was going on, why my mother would walk out of my life. I spent hours after that trying to remember something, anything, that would explain why she left. I always went back to the fights with my dad, that made the most sense, but it didn’t explain why she left me behind.”

“Anyway, that night when my dad got home I was in my room, eyes swollen from nonstop crying. Within a few minutes he must have found the note, which I left for him to see. I heard things smashing against the walls and him yelling profanities. He never came to check on me that night. My mom had abandoned us, and my father never came to see if I was okay. Looking back, I know that’s the day I began to shut everyone out.”

I feel Kade’s breath in my hair, just before he kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, Shy.”

I nod slightly, but I’ve not even gotten to bad part yet.

“Over the next few months my dad and I wandered through the house like it was a graveyard, rarely speaking to each other, and never speaking of mom. After about six months my dad seemed to be getting back into his old life. His friends were coming back around again in the evenings, to ‘take care of business.’ They were coming around in the evening, when I was still awake. Dad and his friend would go into the kitchen while I watched TV or played outside with the neighbors. After a year or so I got to know most of dad’s friends by name and some of them even talked about their families. I never asked or had any clue what kind of ‘business’ they were taking care of with my dad. I actually never thought about why the guys were coming around; I just saw them as my dad’s friends. Until one day when one of the friends started yelling at him when they were in the kitchen doing business. This guy was one who had only just started coming around. I was fourteen at that point.”

I shiver involuntarily, and Kade pulls me even closer. I can feel his muscles becoming rigid, as if he knows what’s coming.

“Anyway, this guy was yelling at my dad about backing out, telling my dad there was no way out. My dad changed his tactic and tried to take back what he was saying, telling this guy he understood and he was still in. The guy started stomping around the kitchen cursing and kicking the chairs. When he passed by the doorway between the kitchen and living room he stopped when he saw me sitting on the couch. I remember the guy’s response because of how his voice sounded. He went from uncontrolled anger to a soft, way-too-gentle tone when he saw me. He told my dad over his shoulder, ‘I know you’re still in, that was never the question. The question is, what will it take to help you understand you will never walk away?’”

I feel Kade stiffen under me and I feel the rise and fall of his chest stop. He’s holding his breath, waiting for the next part of my story. Once I say these words he can’t unhear them. Just like I can’t unlive the story.

I continue, knowing this is a bridge I have to cross.

“I was fourteen years old the first time my dad pimped me out to save his own ass.”

Kade sat up in the bed, taking me with him. “What did you say? What do you mean he pimped you out? What do mean the first time?” At this point he’s already off the bed and pacing around his room. “Tell me his ass went to jail and so did this guy!”

Here is where the judgment really begins. “I never told anyone until a couple years later, then only Ryder.”

Kade stopped and turned to look at me. His eyes were uncontrolled fury. For me? For my dad? “Wait, Shy, so you stayed there?”

And there it is, the choices I made. He is not asking anything I’ve not asked myself every day, but seeing his fury, and probably disgust, brings me to a whole new level of self-loathing. I have just given the one person I think I could love the perfect reason to walk away and never love me. I am sitting at the edge of the bed with my feet on the ground. I was looking up at him until that question, and then I dropped my head in my hands and let the tears come.

Sobbing, I answer, “I wanted my dad to love me. After that first time, the time I lost my virginity, my dad held me on the couch while I cried and he told me how sorry he was but how much he loved me for what I did for us. Kade, that was the first time in years he’d held me and soothed me the way I thought a father should. It’s sick and twisted, I know that now, looking back. He was the one who gave me to that creep, to take my virginity, violate me—then my dad comforts me and tells me he loves me. It’s sick!” I wipe at my eyes, frantically. “But when you’re a little girl whose mom walked away, who has dreamed of her dad loving and accepting her, and then he finally does that? As dirty and violated as I felt, the acceptance I was getting from my dad in that moment overshadowed the rest. I know I’m twisted and that I made shit choices after that… but my dad loved me, and I needed that… more than I needed to love myself.”

Kade drops to his knees in front of me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me up into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry, Shy. I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you. Please don’t think that my disgust is towards you; it’s for your dad and the asshole that did this to you. Please, Shy, don’t think this changes the way I look at you.” He pauses, as if thinking. “Actually, it does change the way I see you… I now see a girl who has found a way to show unconditional love to her friends when she has not been given that unconditional love by her own family.”

I pull away from him and wipe at my eyes. “You haven’t heard everything, Kade. You can’t say those things without knowing all the shit choices I made. I’m telling you that I let men have sex with me to get my father’s approval and the kicker is he never loved me anyway!” I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to keep the emotions from taking over my mind and body. “I thought he loved me. I wanted so desperately to believe he did that I ignored the fact he was pimping me out!”

“I want to hear everything if you’re ready to tell me. None of this changes how I feel about you or where I want us to go from here. Your strength and survival instinct has made you who you are now.”

I take in a deep breath and lean my head back onto his shoulder.

“Okay, Shy, you said that isn’t all of the story. I’m ready hear it all now, but I understand if you need a break.” He sits back on the bed next to me, taking my hand in his. “Hearing all of the pain you have been through is difficult. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you to tell me and relive it all. So it’s up to you.”

Chapter 24

The rest of the story? Tell it now, or drag this out and cause myself more anxiety?

“I want to tell you now so we can figure out where to go from here, with you having all the dirty details before making any decisions. But can we lie back down? I want you to hold me. It’s easier that way, and more comfortable.”

Kade places his hands on either side of my face again and makes me look directly at his eyes. “Shy, I know this is hard for you to believe, but I have to say it, and I will say it as many times as you need. All the dirty details won’t change how I feel about you. Got it?” he asks.

I just nod, not really buying all his hearts-and-butterflies crap. Kade climbs past me into the bed, lies down under the covers, and lifts his arm for me curl into him. Just like he always does.

“After that first time,” I begin, “it was months before it happened again. But it did happen again. I always thought of it as ‘paying my dad’s debts’ because it only seemed to happen when my dad would be arguing with one of the men. Sometimes it would be months between payments, but because I never knew when one of the men would visit my room, I was always on guard. When I would hear one of my dad’s friends come over I would automatically shut off my bedroom light and lay there praying no one would come in my room. I was always on edge wondering if my door would open. When it did open I never moved. I never fought them. I never said no. I just lay there and let those perverts get off with my body.”

I stopped speaking, considering all the pieces I have tried to put together before.

Kade waits a few minutes. “Shy,” he says very hesitantly.

I feel Kade start to push up under me but I force him back down. “Stay, please, Kade,” I ask quietly.

He presses his hand to the back of my head then puts his lips to my hair. “Filly, I’m not leaving. I just want to look at you.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s much easier for me this way.”

I let out a sigh, and tell him my biggest regret. “I should have fought. They should have had to tie me up. They should have beaten me. Instead I just lay there and let them have me. I mean, this went on for four years, and I never fought back.” I press my face further into Kade’s chest, trying to escape my shame.

He is still, and very quiet, as if he is trying to sort through all I just said.

I draw in a long breath, “The guys always went on about how beautiful I was, or how perfect my body was. Or sometimes one of them would say ‘I’ve missed you so much since last time.’ Those ones who would talk to me like they were seducing me always took their time and told me how perfect and beautiful I was. So if anyone tries to tell me those things today, well, it brings back those guys, in that room.”

I stop talking, trying to halt all the memories attacking my mind. Reminding me of the girl I was, the things I allowed them to do. As I retell the stories I can feel the men on me, their hands running up my shirt, their breath on my cheek as they whisper to me. My body reacts to the memory and I shiver from my toes to my shoulders.

Kade wraps his arms tighter around my waist, and states, “That night with Luke. He told you how beautiful you were.”

I nod and take in another deep breath. “Yes. I was no longer with Luke. My mind took a road trip. I can’t imagine what Luke must have thought. Well, actually, I can imagine.” I laugh bitterly. “Anyway, I hated my body back then, because I thought if I hadn’t been so pretty then maybe they wouldn’t come back. I even cut my hair off after one guy kept talking about how beautiful it was. It didn’t matter; it didn’t stop them from screwing me.”

I stop when Kade lifts a hand to my chin and urges me to look up at him.

“Shyanne, listen to me. This is something you need to understand. They were not ‘screwing’ you; they were raping you. I don’t care if you didn’t fight back. You were an underage girl who was being raped by men who knew you were not willing.” He says it softly, as if fearful I might run if he speaks too loud.

I pull my chin from his hand and place my cheek back on his chest. “Part of me knows that, but part of me is so disgusted with myself. I should have done something.”

Kade says nothing; he just wraps his arm tighter around my waist and sets his other hand on the side of my face, pressing me harder into his chest. I can feel his heart beating under my cheek; it is beating double-time. The way his hand feels against my head is better than any words he could say. I know this is hard for him to hear, and honestly I don’t want him to speak yet. I need his arms around me, his heart under my cheek, and his breath in my hair. All of that gives me the comfort I needed to continue.

“It all came to an end the night before my eighteenth birthday. I heard my dad talking to someone in the living room so I shut off my light, and laid in my bed waiting. All too soon my door opened and a man entered, closing the door behind him.

“Before I saw him, I knew he was different. I could smell his cologne. I’ll never forget that smell. When he started to remove my clothes I knew this guy was going to be different. He was much more forceful and he was talking about everything he wanted to do to me. This guy wanted it different. The way it had always played out was I just lay there, crying, while the guys got off with my body. This guy, though, he wanted more. I actually think he needed more. I mean I was lying there on the bed and he was taking off his clothes, then he got a condom out of his pants. When I looked over at him he wasn’t hard. That was my first clue it was going to be different. He told me to roll over and get up on my knees. Again, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I mean, it may sound ridiculous coming from a girl who was practically a prostitute, but—”

Kade cut me off. “Stop it, Shy. Don’t call yourself that. You were a daughter who was being horribly manipulated by her father and raped by his sick friends.”

              “Call it whatever makes you feel better, Kade,” I say, tried of that argument. “Anyway, even though I had allowed the other guys to have me, I never actively participated. So this guy wants that from me, and I couldn’t do it. It was a line I just couldn’t cross. So I told him no. He got pissed. He said if I wanted my dad to keep all of his fingers and if I wanted to remain in this happy little home then I would turn over and get on my knees. Again I told him no. This time he reached down, grabbed me by the hips, and tried to flip me over. I started kicking and trying to get away from him. It was like a light switched on for him. His eyes lit up and he got hard. He kept holding me down and telling me to go ahead and fight. It was like he loved the fact that he was going to have to violently rape me. He got me flipped over and was lying on my back, his hands holding mine above my head and his mouth at my ear telling me all the ways he was going to rape me. So I did something I had never done. I yelled for my dad.”

I have to stop for a minute because the memories are playing out so vividly I’m mixing up the now with the then. Kade’s arm across my back is too tight, the bed is too hot, his breath is too near… and my dad’s face is so real. His surprise, his confusion, and my hope; it’s all so real.

Kade seems to know I need to sort it all out because he says nothing. He doesn’t even move to comfort me any more than he had been. Maybe he knows if held me any tighter it would send me running. After a few minutes, I go on.

“Within a few seconds my dad was standing in the doorway. The creep had my head turned toward the door with my cheek pressed into the mattress so I saw my dad’s face as he tried to sort out the pieces. In all the times his ‘friends’ came to my room, he never saw any of it. He sent the guys to my room then a short time later the guys came out. So I guess I wasn’t surprised that he was unsure what to say or do. The creep finally spoke, telling my dad that I was refusing to cooperate with the deal. The creep was saying something to my dad about the agreement and allowing me to stay in the home. I was crying so hard at that point that I was gasping for breaths. My dad finally made eye contact with me and stated my name, more as a question. I had so much hope that my dad was going pull this guy off of me and throw him out the front door. I shook my head as much as I could and I told my dad I couldn’t do it, I didn’t want to do it. I told him this guy was raping me.”

I stopped again. Remembering what happened next, and the pain it would forever bring me. “After I told him I couldn’t do it, I saw so many emotions cross my dad’s face—confusion, regret, terror, and disappointment were just a few. The terror of what this creep would do to him was the emotion that won out in the end. My dad looked at me, looked at the creep, and then he dropped his head, walked out of my bedroom, and closed the door behind him.”

I feel Kade’s body go rigid. After a few slow breaths, I feel him relax slightly, and his arms pull me closer. I feel his lips press against my head. “I’m so sorry… I don’t even know what to say…”

I’m crying by this point. As much as I wanted to be a hard-ass and tell this story with no tears, reliving these memories is tearing me apart. “You don’t have to say anything. Trust me, what you’re feeling right now for my dad and that guy is nothing compared to how I felt in that moment. I’m not sure what it says about me that I hated my dad more than the creep, and he was one the one that was about to rape me.”

Kade reaches up and puts both hands on my shoulders, then pushes me back just far enough that I am looking into his eyes. “It says you were a daughter who needed her dad to protect her. A girl who believed her dad loved her, and when he walked out that door she learned she was wrong.”

Kade states, better than I could, exactly how I felt.