Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
The involuntary shivers and pleased noises she makes now and again give her away, though.
However, she doesn’t look at me. Not when I start the fire, not when I pass her a bottle of water, and not when I bring us a blanket.
She thinks it’s for her and starts to take it, but I grab her by the arm and tug her toward me so that we’re both beneath it.
In her attempts to pull away, I get her closer to me so her naked body is snuggled into the crook of mine.
I can feel her stiffening, and I lift her chin to stare at her eyes. She frowns, and they’re filled with confusion, so that means she isn’t zoning out. She’s safe.
Reluctantly, I release her and watch the fire.
“What was that for?” she whispers in the silence. “Why did you look at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you were searching for…a ghost.”
A log crackles as it’s eaten by the flames and I offer her a small truth. “Maybe I was.”
She relaxes further into my hold, and I revel in the feeling of her lowering her resistance a little.
“Does it have to do with when I zone out?”
I nod.
“Do you know a lot of people like me?”
“Only one.” I remain silent as she stares at me with her inquisitive eyes, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. Not right now. “My mom.”
“What happened to her?” Her voice is softer than the silence, even as it disturbs it, stabs it, and refuses to leave its wound alone.
“What makes you think something happened?”
“Something always happens in these situations. People deal with trauma differently. Some internalize it, others express it, but the fact remains that the scars will always be there.”
“So you admit to having scars.”
“I never denied that I do.”
“You just hid them, then?”
A long breath heaves out of her. “I did in the past. Now, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Mum always told me that once I embrace my scars, I’ll feel more comfortable in my skin. I want to be comfortable in my skin more than anything. I want to stop my head from tormenting me with the past.”
A shiver goes through her and she snuggles closer to me, as if I’m her safety. I’m anything but fucking safety, but I want to be a haven for her right now.
“Anyway.” She clears her throat. “Your mum must’ve gone through certain circumstances to get to that point.”
“When I was young, she often struggled mentally. Sometimes, she’d be the best mother alive—teach me things, dance with me, play with me, dress me up, and even teach me things. Other times, she’d become a ghost. It wasn’t temporary, it didn’t last a few minutes or hours. It went on for days on end. She’d look at me and see straight through me. I’d call her and she wouldn’t hear me. She’d speak, but no words would come out. It was like she was trapped in a space I couldn’t reach.”
Cecily shifts closer, and the friction of her skin against mine makes me feel a deep sense of revolt. Not against her, but myself for never being able to forget those snippets of my childhood, even though it was a long time ago.
“Did she get better?” Cecily asks with easy compassion. Not pity.
“Eventually. I haven’t seen the ghost since she was pregnant with Annika. That was nineteen years ago. Isn’t it weird that I still have these vivid images of those times?”
“It’s not weird. In fact, it’s perfectly normal. You were what? Five? Six? You were a child, and any child exposed to that type of imagery would develop a strong reaction that would be reinforced the more they grow up. Our perception of the past depends greatly on our state of mind during that certain event. Any type of trauma can alter not only our memories but also our perspectives and personalities.”
“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” I smile down at her. “It’s a turn-on.”
She pushes at my chest playfully and shakes her head. “Everything is a turn-on according to your logic.”
“Only when it comes to you. Not my fault you’re the sexiest person alive.”
Red creeps up her face and she rubs the side of her nose before she clears her throat. “Point is, it’s not your fault you feel that way about what happened during your childhood. But it’s not your mother’s fault either.”
“How is it not her fault?” I slowly close my eyes and take a moment before I open them again. “She gave birth to a child she couldn’t care for.”
“That’s not true. You said she took care of you after learning how to cope with her mental health issues. Anni always said that your mum is the best and she sees her as a caring, affectionate figure, which means those episodes never happened with her. To say mental struggles are her fault is no different than victim blaming. I understand your issues, and the feelings of abandonment you must’ve had, but you also need to understand that she would’ve stopped it if she could. That, deep down, she was fighting her demons to be able to go back to you, and she eventually succeeded. That’s the part you should celebrate, because it takes a lot of willpower, energy, and strength to fight one’s demons.”