Page 16

“A RE YOU OKAY?” I UNBUCKLE my seatbelt, tearing my eyes off Mom and Dad’s empty porch out the car window to look at Remington.

“I should be asking you that, not the other way around.” He sighs. “I’m okay. But I don’t know if I can pretend to like him, L.L.B.”

“Just be yourself. We don’t have to talk to him much, and I’ll mainly just want to say hi to my mom before I–” I swallow hard. “Before I propose our offer to her in private.”

Leaning over the center console, Remington eases a soft kiss onto my temple. “I’ll be right here by your side. If she says yes, we’ll come up with a safety plan to get her out first. No one’s laying a hand on either of you today.”

Chewing on my lip, I nod. “I-I do feel safer this time. Thank you.”

He gives me a soft smile, but nothing can settle my nerves as we step out of the car. Glancing back at Remington one last time, I hesitate as his jaw sets.

I stop beside the rusting mailbox. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, L.L.B., I’m not. I don’t want to say anything to him if it makes you uncomfortable, but...” He sighs, softening his voice as his eyebrows arch in sorrow. “I don’t think he should be allowed to think he can continue to do this to you. It’s long overdue for someone to stand by your side, and I’d feel like a shit person if I kept this secret for his comfort - and therefore sacrificing yours.”

I swallow hard. I’ve never had anyone visit Dad who knows what he does to me, so I almost don’t know what to say. But I trust Remington. “Okay, thank you. I don’t mind if you say something to him; just don’t say anything around my mom. I need to tell her when I’m ready.”

Remington strokes my shoulders. “Okay. I’ve got your back.”

He does. I can feel it in his steady gaze. My torso unwinds - just in time to hear the click of a lock unlatching.

Dad opens the front door, greeting us with a bright wave.

My heart stings. I didn’t expect to feel as guilty as I do from Dad’s unsuspecting smile. I know my offer for Mom will hurt him. But he made the choice to hurt me, over and over again. That truth guts me, just like it has my whole life. Why wasn’t I good enough for him to keep safe?

But what if I’m over-exaggerating how bad he is? When he’s smiling and waving so sweetly, he doesn’t look like a dragon.

As we approach, I force myself to smile, opening my arm for a side hug. “Hi, Dad.”

Dad hugs me with both arms. “Hi, Lily. And Remington - it’s so nice to meet you, finally!”

Remington’s deep hum buzzes behind my head as he places both hands on my shoulders, keeping close. “Hi, Mr. Norris. Thanks for having me.”

“Oh, no need to be so polite. Call me Joe.” Dad chuckles, extending his hand. But I know Remington far better than to think he’s being pleasant; if he’s not at an excitable puppy-level of a greeting, he’s unhappy.

Remington stares at Dad’s hand for a lingering second, shooting my heartbeat into my throat. I can only imagine what he’s thinking; he’s the only one who knows what Dad’s hands have done.

As Remington takes Dad’s hand, Dad chuckles again. “Wow, you’ve got a strong grip.”

Remington’s jaw tenses, and Dad’s smile fades.

“ I have a strong grip?” Remington’s voice is quiet but sharp, piercing the space between us.

My heart beats wildly. I don’t know what to think or feel. I knew Remington wouldn’t be able to hold back - he has that venomous “vaffanculo” look in his eyes again - but no one has stood up for me to Dad before. No one has even noticed .

Dad’s eyes have never been wider. But he furrows his brow with a light chuckle, his forearm tense in Remington’s grasp. “What’s going on here?”

Remington hums, but it’s not a kind hum. My teeth clench as he steps closer, lowering his voice. “I had the unfortunate experience of discovering just how strong your grip is, Joe .”

Dad blinks a few times, and I shuffle in place. I don’t know how to exist in a world where he’s facing the consequences of what he does to me, and it terrifies me. A frantic urge tells me I should run and hide, petrified he’ll turn to take his frustrations out on me again - blame this all on me, somehow, but even worse. Deep down, keeping Dad’s secrets has always been more than not wanting to hurt Mom; I’ve been afraid to discover what happens when I find out I’m not worth protecting to Mom either.

Just like poor Remington experienced when his family kept Ernesto around.

But Dad sputters, fear blanching his cheeks. “I-I don’t– I don’t know what you–”

“You don’t remember the clear finger silhouettes you left me to find on my girlfriend’s arm?”

Dad pales. Then his eyebrows warp in sorrow. He turns to me, opening his mouth with a sharp inhale, but Remington hums.

“No, don’t look at her to bail you out of this. There’s no fucking reason in the world to lay a finger on this literal angel on your doorstep. You’re lucky she stuck around at all, especially after that scar you left on her back.”

Dad winces, and my heart beats wildly into my throat. I’ve never seen him look so guilty.

But Remington’s jaw only clenches harder. “I’m only going to make this clear once: you’re never laying another fucking hand on your daughter again, you hear me?”

My head spins, terrified of what Dad might say. But most shocking of all, I’m the most afraid of how awful Dad must feel. Even though he hurt me, I don’t want to hurt him.

But Dad shuts his mouth with a meek, “I’m so sorry.”

My squeeze on Remington’s hand softens his set jaw. The second he lets Dad go, Dad races back into the house, dashing past Mom as she slowly wheels herself down the hall.

I’m numb with fear. Did she hear any of that?

She blinks a few times, turning her head the best she can to call after him. “Honey, where are you going? Is everything okay?”

Dad doesn’t answer, slamming his bedroom door with a bang .

Mom furrows her brows, looking between Remington and me as I remain dazed in her doorway. “Lilibeth, are you alright?”

Remington tenses. “Sorry, I–”

I release a slow, shaky exhale. “No, I– Yes. I’m–” The more I breathe, the lighter I feel. I’m not alone. I let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I-I’m good. Really good.”

“Thank goodness.” Mom beams, clasping her hands together at her chest. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you, Remington! Lilibeth hasn’t brought a boy home since high school.”

I peek at Remington with a giggle, but as we meet eyes, I find a hint of agonized sadness behind his dark irises.

He gives Mom his half-up smile. “That’s quite the compliment. Your daughter is the sweetest woman on the planet.”

Having Remington here makes it real for me - how fake these pleasantries feel, leaving me to wait for the inevitable storm. And now that I’m not left to face it alone, it’s sinking in how disastrous this has all been. I have to live my whole life with Dad’s scar on my back, yet I’m still keeping it hidden for him; even though Dad knows his secret has been exposed to Remington, it’s kept safe from his wife.

We shuffle inside, and I wheel Mom down the hall. As Mom chats with us, Remington releases a slow exhale beside me. We meet eyes. The pain behind his harrowed stare shocks my heart into restarting. I lean into his touch as he smooths his hand over my back, but as the ache in my heart only grows, Remington’s eyebrows arch to match my expression.

Heat stings my eyes. This has nothing to do with him, but he’s visibly aching like his heart was the one my dad hurt. He understands.

“My hero,” I breathe out an almost inaudible whisper.

He softly smiles, mouthing, “I love you.”

But as we settle onto the living room couch, facing Mom’s smile, dark thoughts consume my focus. Can I really do this? Ruin Mom’s sense of peace with what I’ve been through? I swallow hard through the sudden onslaught of emotions crushing my chest. Remington stiffens beside me, his eyebrows knitted, but Mom speaks up first.

“Lilibeth, something is wrong today.” She’s speaking low enough to capture my focus; her tone is specifically low enough to keep our conversation from Dad behind his closed door.

She’s right. Something is wrong. The dam I’ve built around my secret has broken, spilling out like hot oil scalding my heart.

Or, rather, boiling water. Vivid images of the deep, horrifying pain of Dad burning me enter my mind. It killed so drastically that my brain protected me from remembering the physical pain, but I can’t forget the mental torment he caused when I looked up at him, realizing he hurt me drastically, on purpose. I thought I might die, and all I could see was a repeating image of his determined, disgusted glare as he tipped the pot.

But my back was turned; I had already learned I needed to run from him.

My body shakes, even as Remington grasps my arms to ground me. Mom rolls closer, her eyes wider than ever.

And my worst fears tumble from my mouth.

“Mom, does Dad hurt you?” I rasp. Shock ripples over her forehead, but as she sucks in a breath to speak, my chest tightens. “Physically. Does he hurt you, physically?”

Remington freezes beside me. I quiver in his arms, the acidic, burning sensation spewing deeper into my heart as I await Mom’s response.

But she continues to gape. As she takes my hand, she shakes her head. “What are you saying, Lilibeth? No, he doesn’t. No, how could he?”

I sputter out a sharp gasp like I’m drowning. Remington jolts into action, resuming his grounding squeezes, but I didn’t expect this to hurt this badly. If Mom isn’t lying, that means his daughters are the exception. That this really is personal. To Dad, I’m not worthy enough to protect.

Tears spill with my rasping hiccups. This isn’t how I wanted to ask Mom to live with me. I wanted to look strong enough to carry her.

But as Remington shakes his head beside me, Mom turns her focus to him. “Remington, what’s going on?”

Remington only shakes his head faster. It sobers me; no matter how angry Remington is with Dad, he’s not giving away Dad’s secret, just because I asked. It’s not fair - to me, either.

Or to Mom.

Straightening, I steady my weepy voice. “Sorry, I just need to talk to you about something. This isn’t how I wanted to ask you, but before Dad comes back, I have a question.”

“Okay, please, what is it, Lilibeth? You’re scaring me.”

I swallow hard. “Remington and I talked a few things over. We’re already spending so much time with each other that moving in together and splitting the rent would save us money. But that also means we could support you however you need to, and even afford a caregiver together. We wanted to offer for you to live with us, if you’d like.”

Mom blinks a few times, her focus racing between Remington’s somber expression and my reddened eyes. “Wait, what about your father?”

My shoulders raise. I lean in, softening my voice. “Mom, you and I both know he’s abusive.”

“What? Lilibeth, it’s not like that.”

My blood burns. “We agreed on it last time, and there’s a reason why I didn’t visit for months after that day.”

Jutting back by the chin, Mom only widens her eyes further. “Well, I don’t understand. We don’t argue like the two of you do. He’s not all that bad to me, and he doesn't mean the hurtful things he says. I still love him.”

As I gape at my mother, I can’t believe what I’m seeing; she’s choosing him, just like I was afraid of. Does she really think all Dad does is get into petty disagreements with me? She’s so set in her mindset that I almost fall back in with her: what if I’m the one giving too much attention and weight to what Dad treats me like? Maybe I should just be quiet and get over it.

But the second that thought crosses my mind, I stiffen.

No, I’ve had enough of sitting back and taking it. Remington’s sturdy grip on me proves it further; if Remington’s praise has taught me anything, Dad’s verbal abuse damages my soul, just like his physical abuse. Dad didn’t hurt me physically for years, yet my self-esteem around Dad is the polar opposite of the Lilibeth I can be with Remington. With Rem, I can exist without overanalyzing every blink, breath, or word. Even if I had never met him, the blissful, utter relief I felt holding my apartment keys for the first time at eighteen speaks volumes.

And my knight taught me that my safeword isn’t reserved for when my pain “matters enough.” My pain is worth acknowledging, even if it’s hard for Mom to hear.

Whether Mom believes me or not, I believe me now. My father is abusive.

And Mom hasn’t stopped staring, wondering why I’m acting like this.

As reality sets in, I’m just as nauseatingly horrified as I am furious. I clench my jaw. “Wait, so you want to stay with him, forever? This isn’t just the only option you have?”

Mom’s shoulders droop. She leans in, placing her cool palm over my knee. “Yes, honey. I'm okay. I’m happy here.”

This can’t be happening. My eyes flood, but as Remington huffs out fury with me, Mom only gives me a sympathetic, sad smile, stroking my knee.

“Lilibeth, I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t need you to worry so much about me. I want you to live your life for you now, not for me. I really mean it.”

She doesn’t get it. I didn’t even have a chance to tell her everything Dad did to me. How can I, when she doesn’t even believe me now?

All I can do is shake my head in disbelief. “So, that’s a no?”

Mom rubs my knee. “Yes, honey. That’s a no.”

Another voice appears behind us. “What's a no?”

Every muscle in my body tightens in defense. Remington holds me tighter, and I follow his gaze over my shoulder.

Dad stands in the doorway. His belly is taut, brows furrowed, and mouth pressed in a tight line. Just catching a millisecond glimpse of him on the edge sets my nerves on fire, my body begging me to bolt from the room.

But the image of Dad upset over my justified heartbreak is the final drop in 33 years of pent-up rage.

I don’t bolt from the room. I stand.

“Do you hurt her too, Dad?” I hiss.

The words rip from my lips before I can stop them. Every shuffle of clothes in the room, tick of Dad’s jaw, and shudder from Mom threatens to tear my pounding heart from my chest, but I only grit my teeth harder as Dad tightens into a scowl.

“What are you even saying, Lilibeth?” He snaps.

I freeze.

Disappointment crashes over my heart; the sight of his rage still poisons my resolve, no matter how strong I can build myself up. Will I ever be free from him?

But Remington lets out a low hum, breaking me from my trace. The visceral disgust I hear in his tone validates me to my core.

Except Mom hasn’t moved. She’s gaping at Dad, hardly seeming to function from shock.

Oh, God, it’s finally hitting her. Anxiety sears my veins. What will she think when she processes the truth?

When Dad tightens his fists, my body hardens.

“You heard me.” I grit my teeth, unable to keep my voice from raising to a yell. “Do you hurt your wife too?”

Dad’s eyes bulge like I’ve thrown a bucket of ice water over his head. He sputters out nonsense syllables before his stare finally lands on Mom.

She’s still frozen, but tears gush down her cheeks. She knows.

Guilt creases every inch of Dad’s face, withering away his age by the second. He hesitates, glancing at my seething boyfriend. But as he returns his gaze to my shaking, furious form, his eyebrows arch in sorrow.

“No,” he rasps, shaking his head. “No, I... No.”

My jaw quivers. I don’t know what to think. I’m afraid if I breathe, this will feel too real, but my lungs force me to release cutting, rapid exhales.

But as Mom breaks into a sob, my focus zips to her.