Page 27 of Forbidden

Fingers close around my balled fist, and they try to prize open my powerful fingers. “It’s okay.”

I step a foot away from Storm, and I stare into the horizon.

Screw it. Why not? If one person in the world knows, what is the harm?

“Was it a house fire?” Storm asks, “Or-”

“Foster homes are not always homes, Storm. Or places of love. Many are human farms.” I lean on the low sandstone wall between my property and the sand. My eyes sweep the sea.

“My third foster home had bunks in a garage. There were a dozen of us. The couple were milking the system to get money.To buy themselves drugs. They were pure white trash.” Inhale. “I ran away the first week, but I was caught and beaten.”

“The damaged finger?” Storm asks low.

She is now closer to me.

I nod. “The finger I had rebuilt. And my knee. The third time I ran, I took three other kids. Young girls. I was fourteen. They around nine, ten and twelve. I knew they’d soon be abused, and that could not happen. No fucking way.”

Breathe…

“It was hard, but I finally got them to the night train. I threw the last up, and onto the freight car, but as the train kept going, I was caught on the tracks. Exhausted. Alone.”

The lone tear finds its way down my cheek. The itch. Always the itch.

“I then got what the tattoo artists said were around three hundred cigarette burns.”

“Oh Lorenzo,” Storm says stepping closer.

Another salty tear runs down my cheek. Fuck it. Who cares? And what’s the point in hiding the tears? She won’t tell anyone.

Storm holds my side, and I sniff loud. “Look, we don’t need to.”

“It’s okay,” I say. My mind elsewhere. Finally, Storm prizes my balled fist open again, and her fingers claim mine.

“I decided to run again. Days… And nights… I ran from the rural location… This time I made it. I was free. Anyway, an agency shut the place down, and justice was served.”

“They won’t do it again?”

I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “No. Not where they are.” I inhale long and low. “Anyway, the past is the past. All that matters is the now.”

Storm slides around me and she hugs me tight. I place my juice on the wall, and I hold her close. The stroke of her hand on my back calms me, and somehow, I relax.

I start to breathe deeper.

I’m supposed to be unbreakable. Un fucking untouchable. Only I’m not.

“You should be proud,” Storm says pulling back, and looking up at me. Her eyes are wet. I look down through my own moist eyes, and our eyes hold.

I don’t know what to say… I’ve never told anyone.

I bring Storm in, and I wrap my arms around her. I feel her tears on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. As I feel her hair on my cheek, I hold her closer and tighter.

It feels right.

Too right…

After returningto NYC and my penthouse, the next week goes smoothly. Partly, because I stay home, and away from the entertainment circus I’ve created and now have to run.

Half my time is spent consuming entertainment pitches and discussing projects with the handlers. Those being movie, or entertainment producers, companies, and dealing with my internal attorneys and bankers.