Chapter 2 #2
“Even then, that was manageable in my eyes. I could handle their anger and dismissiveness…But when I saw my father raise his fist to my mother for the first time, leaving her bruised and pain stricken, I was unable to be complicit with their ideologies. How could I be sentenced to horrors, but an abusive father be redeemed by confessing his sins to a man in a booth? It made no sense to me.”
I could feel the anger burning in me again, the same one I felt on that night years prior. The night that both ruined my life and granted me freedom.
“You did not deserve to witness that,” Levette said in a caressing voice. “If it was me, I cannot tell you the atrocities I would have bestowed on that man. You are already a more worthy being than I, Warren.”
My answering laugh sounded bitter in my ears and I swiped furiously at my eyes before any tears could fall.
“I am not worthy. The anger of seeing my mother hurt sent me into a spiral of rage that I couldn’t control.
I beat my father, Levette; I punched and kicked him until he was bloodied and cut, just like he used to do to me.
And afterwards, I felt no remorse, no sorrow for my actions.
I felt vindicated. I could have visited this very church and confessed my sins, allowing myself to be free of burden.
But I didn’t, and still do not, believe in absolution in the form of a human.
Only He can free me of all I have done, but the rhetoric of my upbringing leads me to believe I will never be unburdened. ”
Levette sighed, rubbing a hand over his sharp jaw.
“I don’t think I’m the person to tell you whether or not you’ll be free.
But your soul…I feel its beauty. In my eyes, what you did to that batard was justified, but my heart is a hardened place and my soul has long since lost its beauty.
Remorse, sorrow, even vindication—I haven’t felt them in such a long time.
It grieves me to see that you feel them all so deeply and carry them with you as a heavy burden. I long to free you of that.”
My heart thudded against my chest, his words entering my bloodstream like I needed to hear them to continue to survive.
I had never been seen by anyone in my life, my pain never acknowledged by another living soul.
Levette Fortier and his violet eyes pierced my walls of solitude and made me feel like I wasn’t alone.
I twisted around, lifting my leg so my knee rested on the bench between us.
I let my eyes rove over him, taking in his fine clothes and even finer physique.
He was handsome and regal almost, always poised and elegant.
It made me realize how poor I looked in comparison, how my slim frame and long, fiery hair washed me out against my pale skin.
It felt like sitting beside a king, while I was a mere pauper.
Yet, I didn’t want to move or look away.
Despite how it made me feel about myself, he made me feel the opposite.
His eyes on me made my entire body flush, and it caused a magnitude of confusion within myself.
“You speak as though you’ve lived a hundred lifetimes, but you cannot be much older than me,” I said, my voice soft and careful, like I was stumbling on a secret and didn’t want to share it with anyone else. “You’ve endured your own atrocities, haven’t you?”
Levette’s gaze dropped and he looked towards the church, a sad look taking over him. “I have endured, but also been the cause. As I said, my heart is not pure or beautiful like yours, mon ami. Age becomes nothing but a construct when trauma weighs us down.”
I let my hand drop down between us, a brazen act that made me shake with both anticipation and dread.
It rested behind where Levette had deposited his hat, hidden from view of the world.
Not that anyone would have been able to see since the sky had turned dark, but the fear of being caught in that time was enough to debilitate even a fleeting thought of happiness.
A brush of the hand may as well have been the same as committing a lewd act in daylight for all to see; prejudice was not hidden in looks or comments, but was at the forefront of society, with mobs and fierce anger.
My eyes stayed locked on the spot, unable to look away as Levette shifted his own arm, placing his hand beside mine. I wanted to move closer, but fear paralyzed me.
Levette, as though sensing that my sudden bravery was fleeting, moved his hand closer until our pinkies were almost touching. A minuscule space separated our skin from touching, and my heartbeat increased tenfold at the thought.
“I think your heart is a far more beautiful place than you allow yourself to believe,” I said, almost inaudibly, as our gazes met. Levette looked from my eyes to our hands and back, an invitation without judgement or critique.
“You say that now, without knowledge of who I am or what I have done. I am not hiding behind a mask right now, Warren. Hear me when I tell you: I am not a good person, and I have done things that will make you sick. I am filled with darkness, like this very sky reflecting back to me how my soul looks, if I even have one. Beauty is not often linked to me or my being.”
Without looking away, I let our fingers touch and the world stopped around us.
For a singular moment, it was just me, Levette Fortier, and an innocent touch that made me feel more alive than I ever had before.
Even when the world began to move again, a connection had been made that I would never be able to sever.
“Sometimes things are too beautiful to be seen in the light because we wouldn’t be able to handle it. I think you are made of the dark because you couldn’t be seen properly in the light. So here, right now, hear me: you have a soul, Levette, and I know it has beauty within it.”