Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Since the day he was born, he was the light in my life. There were times when I would hold him and I didn’t understand; I couldn’t fathom how my own father didn’t love us, how I loved Ethan. How didn’t he feel this sense of love, loyalty, and devotion to a small human being? Someone, he brought into this world. If he didn’t want children, then why did he continue to make them. There were four of us for a reason... we didn’t just appear from thin air.
It was difficult for me the first few months. Trying not to relive the pain and hurt, I experienced at the hand of the man who created me. Which produced emotions that made me want to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I would never be like him.
Christine often told me that I was babying Ethan too much. That I was ignoring her and our time together; but I never thought it would lead to this. I never imagined in a million years, that she would cheat on me in our very own home.
I wanted to hate her.
I needed to hate her.
But I couldn’t, because I knew I was at fault too. I had forgotten about my wife when they placed Ethan in my arms; it wasn’t intentional. I felt this guilt that was never there before he came into this world. I felt this feeling of shame, to make up for my father’s mistakes.
I knew it didn’t make sense.
The memories became real. They didn’t just attack me when I was sleeping, they happened when I was awake now too.
It started when Ethan was three months old and he spilled a glass of water one morning. The impact of the fall had frightened him. His screams and cries brought me right back to a similar experience; it was déjà vu and I couldn’t move. I stood there and watched in fear, as if I was reliving it.
My father grabbing me by the hair and slamming me up against the wall. When I didn’t give him the reaction he hoped for, he grabbed the metal mixing spoon from the boiling hot water, placing it on my upper thigh; making me scream bloody murder.
I still had the scar.
I prayed the entire time that he wouldn’t go after my mother next. It never worked, he always did.
I recalled the memory as if I was still there. I didn’t run to my petrified child. I stood there and watched him scream, with huge droplets of tears streaming down his face. Christine came running out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around her, to comfort him.
Yelling at me the entire time… “Why are you just standing there watching him suffer? Why are you not soothing him? What’s wrong with you?”
I barely heard her. I was physically there, but my mind was back at that house.
With him.
Several more occurrences, similar to that, happened numerous times. I tried to make up for it by having him be my number one priority. Forgetting, that I had a wife who needed my attention too.
I was a horrible husband and that resonated to where it hurt me the most. I was my father. I was becoming him in ways I couldn’t control. It terrified me that I would hurt them, that I would hurt him. I lived in panic. When I wasn’t home, I was at the bar, drowning myself in paperwork and clients; to forget, to feel a moment of peace.
“I’m sorry, Devon, I tried. I’ve tried for two years to be with you, for longer than two years. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry.”
“Jesus, Christine, you cheated on me. In our home, while our son was sleeping a few feet away. What the fuck? How do I deserve that?”
“You don’t… I just… I don’t. I don’t know what happened. But you and I got together so fast and then I got pregnant. Everything just moved so quickly and I tried to keep up as best as I could, but I was drowning, Devon. I wanted to stay above water with you. I swear it. But you’ve kept secrets from me. You have those nightmares. Sometimes I can’t even sleep next to you. They’ve gotten worse and you won’t do a damn thing about it. You won’t even tell me what they’re about. I’m supposed to be your wife.”
I angrily looked up at her. “Are you fucking serious? You’re going to use that?”
She shook her head. “It’s the truth. You say you love me but fuck, Devon, you won’t even tell me what’s going on with you. I know nothing. I know it’s bad! I’ve slept with you and I know it’s about your father—”
I stood up. “I’m not talking about this. I won’t let you use that as an excuse, to fuck around on me. With one of my employees! You literally fucked where you eat, Christine,” I roared.