Chapter 45 #2
A thousand thoughts fly behind his eyes, his turmoil evident. “No.”
“You could still report her. She shouldn’t be running the foster home, Kieran. Someone like that should never be allowed near children.”
“I know but…” He shrugs. “I always thought if I did, the foster home would be shut down and those children wouldn’t have a home.”
“Why would you think that?” I ask gently.
They’d find a replacement surely, but I’m careful with my words. His knee-jerk reaction, saying no to reporting her, is no doubt from the years of abuse. She probably instilled fear within him that he doesn’t even realize is still there.
He frowns. “Well, because she…because…”
Letting Kieran sit with his thoughts for a moment, I just wait patiently, let my presence comfort him. Allow him to play with the strands of my hair, allow him to gaze into my eyes and see the openness waiting there for him, the willingness to fight for him when no one else did.
He’s kept these secrets close to his chest for so long. I’m not going to push him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, but I will champion him.
Blowing out a breath, Kieran squeezes his eyes shut before forcing them open. “I guess a part of me knew that her abuse wasn’t the worst.”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
His fingers fiddle with my hair, his knee bouncing.
“Kieran?” I probe gently.
“Just that…what she did to me wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me.”
I stop breathing.
“What was?” I hear myself ask, but I’m so fearful of the answer a part of my heart floats away, protecting itself for what I know is about to be a death blow.
Kieran avoids my gaze. “I-I can’t. You won’t be able to look at me the same. It’s not…right.”
Now my heart really is breaking.
“Kieran, I know who you are. You are kind, smart, talented, sweet beyond measure, and have the purest soul I’ve ever seen. Nothing you could ever tell me would change my mind.”
“No, you don’t get it. This…” He swallows and I swear it looks like he’s about to be sick. “It’s wrong, Layla. You’ll think I’m…dirty.”
Sitting up on my knees, I gently cup his cheeks, forcing his eyes to mine. My heart rises in my throat at the silver filling his eyes. “You are not dirty.”
My words are gentle but hold every ounce of conviction I can muster into them because I know. Something deep within me just knows. I can’t explain it, but I don’t even need Kieran to say it. It takes everything in me not to vomit right here and now.
“H-he, um…my mom…her friend—” His words cut off as he sits up, suddenly unable to breath. He’s clutching his chest, hand shaking.
The movement exposes him. I quickly lay the blanket back over him, knowing the last thing he needs right now is to be vulnerable while talking about it.
I run my hand through his hair toward the nape of his neck, feeling the sweat glistening on his skin. “In for four, baby. Deep breath, just breathe with me. It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
He shakes his head, blinking furiously, and the horror that’s etched across his face has tears rolling down my cheeks despite me knowing he needs my strength right now.
Clearing my throat, I urge him again. “Through your nose, baby, that’s it. One, two, three, four, and hold it.” I hold it with him, never dropping my gaze from his before I blow it out slowly, Kieran mirroring me.
“H-he—”
I shake my head now, knowing he might never be able to say the words without panic making him choke.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, rubbing soothing circles with my thumb on his nape. “You don’t have to say it, Kieran. I know.” I take a shuddering breath with him, letting Kieran see the utter devastation wracking my body as I repeat. “I know.”
This is why Kieran was so upset about Emmy’s injustice, by the injustice to all victims.
Because they very rarely get it.
Even if they do, the people who are hurt are left like this, paralyzed by their fear and trauma, the heinous crimes irreversibly altering their brain.
No amount of justice will ever erase the act.
Tears pour freely down Kieran’s cheek. He’s nodding his head, imploring with his eyes everything he wants to say and yet physically can’t. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against mine and breathes in deeply, clutching my hand instead of his chest now.
“That’s it, Kieran. Keep breathing, baby. I’ve got you.”
It takes thirty minutes for Kieran to speak again.
“Do they happen often?” I ask as I hand him a glass of water. He’s in clothes now, his comfort set. I knew he needed to feel as safe and comfortable as possible the moment he was somewhat breathing normally again.
I’ve never seen someone so grateful to be handed a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.
“They happened a lot during school. I thought I had a handle on them but they started up again recently.”
“Because of Emmy?”
He cocks his head side to side. “Yes and no. I mean, obviously everything that Emmy went through was triggering, stirred up a lot of my own memories, but it’s been cathartic to give her everything I wanted.
” He sighs heavily, avoiding my eye. “If I’m honest, a lot was stirred up because I didn’t feel good enough for you. ”
Guilt slams through me. “Kieran, you’re more than good enough. Me pushing you away was never about you. I was terrified because you don’t deserve my baggage.”
“Baggage? Layla, you don’t have baggage.”
“You’re getting to know me during a time when I’m healthier, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still have lupus. I’ll always have it, and to date someone with an illness like mine is a constant rollercoaster. I didn’t want to subject you to that.”
Kieran places his glass down, only to pick up my hands. “Then we ride it together. Every rollercoaster has a free seat beside it.”
Snorting at his analogy, his earnest smile makes me laugh. “Well it’s good to know I have a ride partner.”
“For life.”
My cheeks heat.
Running his fingers through his hair, Kieran sighs. “About the matron…I feel like I should explain why I haven’t reported her. Honestly, the fact I didn’t haunts me every day, because I’m no better than her. I know the abuse continued when I left, and I allowed it to continue.”
“You weren’t the only one to stay silent, Kieran,” I whisper.
He nods, his eyes taking on a faraway look.
“She…” His low voice, the timidness, breaks my heart.
“She said everyone would become homeless if I told…if any of us told. She said no one wanted us, that no one loved us, and this was all we had.” He closes his eyes, grimacing.
“I locked it away so thoroughly I forgot why I never decided to tell someone.” He shakes his head.
“I should have told someone sooner. I should have done something. The amount of children—”
At seeing the panic starting up once again, I gently grab his cheeks. “Baby, look at me.”
His eyes fly open.
“She is the abuser. The pain she caused you and others lies fully in her hands.” His lips part, but I cut him off.
“You were abused for years, Kieran. That’s a hard thing to shake and stand up to.
Most people never confront their abusers, and they shouldn’t have to.
The school, other parents—the adults in your life should have seen the signs and helped. ”
Leaning forward, I kiss him, my heart aching and needing to soothe his pain. I lay my forehead on his, whispering, “All that matters is what you do moving forward and what’s best for you. Whether that’s talking to someone or not.”
“It would be the right thing to tell someone, though.”
I’m quiet for a moment, not wanting to push him, but I can’t not think of those children, of how many others she has hurt over the years and is no doubt still hurting. I imagine she’s older now, but words and emotional manipulation can harm just as strongly, if not more, than physical abuse.
Physical abuse bears the scars; you can see them and watch them heal. But with mental abuse, some of the scars are buried so deep and ingrained so thoroughly in your mind you’ll never find them.
“What’s the worst that could happen if you report her?” I ask.
He chews on his lip. “The foster home would be shut down.”
“Would it, though? Isn’t the state required to replace her?”
“I’m not sure.” Rubbing a hand down his face, he whispers, “Can we maybe take a break from this? I feel…raw.”
“Of course!” Leaning over, I grab the TV remote, instinctively binging up Gilmore Girls. “All on your own time, Kieran. I’ll never force you to do or speak about anything.” The intro fills the living room as I snuggle into his side.
A kiss lands on top of my head. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you.”
“You simply exist, Kieran, and that’s more than enough.”
“Speaking of being more than enough.” Turning my head to the side as he pauses, once our gazes lock and hold he continues. “Have you given anymore thought to Bella illustrating one of your children books?”
“Nice change of subject,” I say pointedly.
“Nice deflection.”
Pursing my lips at the stubborn gleam in his eye, I know without a shadow of a doubt he won’t drop the subject.
I turn back to the TV with a shrug. “Writing children’s books are a dream, one so far off I—”
“But it’s not far off, it’s within your grasp Layla.”
“Ooh you called me by my first name, this must mean serious business.”
His fingers tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Your dreams are serious. I just don’t know why you don’t consider it.”
Biting my bottom lip I relent. “I will, okay?”
“Are you saying that just to shut me up?”
Peering at him out of the corner of my eye I can’t help but smile. “Maybe?”
Kieran’s sigh is weary as he wraps an arm behind me. “One thing about me that you should know by now sunshine, especially after how many unanswered text messages I sent you, is that once I get an idea in my head I’m like a dog with a bone.”
“Hmm.” I hum. “So I was right when I first met you, you are no better than a dog.”
Kieran leans forward with a smile, his lips brushing mine as his fingers find my waist and begin to tickle. “You’re going to pay for that sunshine,” he teases.
He muffles my cries with his tongue as he keeps up his relentless tickling, Gilmore Girls long forgotten.