Chapter One #2
Anya
As we pull up to my grandparents' home, I notice my parents' car in the driveway, and my heart begins to race with anxiety. It's been months since I last spoke to them, except for that one awkward encounter at church. Why are they showing up out of the blue now? I glance at Jacob, seeing his nerves mirrored in his expression. I force a smile and awkwardly exit the car, trying to push down my rising apprehension. Just do what you've always done,
pretend everything is okay, and fake it till you make it , I tell myself.
Taking a deep breath, I approach the front door with Jacob close behind me. As soon as we step inside, the sound of my parents and grandparents arguing at the kitchen table hits me like a wave. The familiar tension fills the air, and I'm instantly transported back to two years ago...
Paul's voice reverberates with fury, slicing through the air like a sharpened blade. "How can you be so damn stupid? You never get anything right!" he shouts, his anger palpable.
"I'm sorry, okay? It was just a stain Paul! I can wash it!" I plead, my voice trembling with fear.
"No, you can't! You're an idiot! You'll mess that up too! You ruin everything!" His words cut deep, fueling my sense of inadequacy.
As I reach for the shirt, he wrenches it away, and in the chaos, it tears. Panic floods my senses as I try to apologize, but his glare holds a promise of violence.
"Look what you've done!" he screams, and his hand connects with my cheek in a resounding slap. The pain radiates through me, igniting a fierce resolve to escape.
"Get out of my sight you worthless bitch!" His words echo in the room as I flee to my car, but he stops me and pulls me back into the hotel room.
"I'm so sorry baby, please don't leave me," he pleads, his tears mingling with mine. His touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to his earlier rage.
"I didn't mean it," he whispers, his voice choked with remorse. "Please stay, it won't happen again. I promise."
As he clings to me, begging for forgiveness, I'm torn between compassion and self-preservation. But in that moment, my heart aches for the broken man before me, and I can't help but wonder if redemption is possible.
The sound of my parents’ voices snaps me back to the present. I glance into the kitchen and see my Mom and Dad in a heated argument with Nana and Pops.
"You just don’t understand how hard it is for us!" my Mom shouts, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re always so quick to judge, never considering how much we’re struggling!"
That’s ironic , I think to myself as I continue to watch the scene before me.
"We’re only trying to help," Nana interjects softly, her eyes filled with hurt. "We care about you both, but we feel like you’re pushing us away. We only want what’s best for the family."
"Best for the family?" Dad retorts with scorn. "You think your constant interference is helpful? It’s nothing but a burden! Maybe if you stayed out of our business, we’d have fewer problems!"
Pops, looking weary and disheartened, tries to mediate. "We just want to be here for you. It’s not about interfering, it’s about supporting you and Anya."
But my Mom and Dad are relentless. Their harsh words and dismissive attitudes cut through the room like a knife. I watch as Nana and Pops are pushed further into the corner, their attempts to offer support met with disdain and anger.
Seeing this, I realize how toxic my parents’ behavior is—not just towards me, but towards the people who have always been there for them. Their cruelty toward Nana and Pops mirrors the manipulation and abuse I experienced with Paul. The same patterns of dismissiveness, blame, and emotional cruelty that I faced are now directed at my grandparents.
This dynamic—the way my parents lash out at Nana and Pops—makes me understand more clearly how I ended up in a similar situation with Paul. I grew up witnessing this toxic behavior, and it warped my perception of what was acceptable in relationships. My struggle to break free from Paul was not just about escaping his control, but also about breaking away from the pattern of toxic behavior that my parents modeled.
Anya, you’re not like them, I remind myself. You don’t have to repeat their mistakes. You can choose a different path.
I shake my head, breaking the thread of my past and I lift my gaze to meet Jacob's concerned eyes. I look around, realizing we are in my room and he's holding me. Tears fall down my face as I try to steady my breath. "Anya?" he calls softly, his worry palpable. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
“Uhh…how did we get here? Where are my parents?” I ask as I keep looking around my room.
Jacob lifts my head by my chin, “I told them to wait and brought you back here. You looked scared and I wanted to give you a moment before we faced them again”.
“Oh…right” I say, feeling the uneasiness in my stomach begin to grow.
He rubs my arms, soothing me from the inside out. “ Are you okay?” he asks again.
With a shaky exhale, "I umm… I just had a flashback, that’s all" my voice barely a whisper. "It's nothing, just a… a bad memory."
Jacob's expression softens with understanding as he wraps me in a comforting embrace. "You're safe now, Anya," he reassures me.
We exit my room and head toward the living room to face my parents. My stomach is in knots as we enter the room and I can feel the tension. My dad sits across from my grandpa, wearing a concerned yet resolute expression. My mom, seated next to him, appears to have been crying, a sight that always hits me like a punch to the gut. I've always hated seeing her in distress, especially if I'm the cause.
With a heavy heart, I bow my head and move to take a seat, but before I can, my parents envelop me in a tight embrace. It's unexpected but welcomed, and I find myself leaning into their warmth, craving the comfort they offer. Glancing at Jacob, I can sense his inner turmoil. He wants to protect me, to shield me from whatever pain lies ahead, but he knows this is something I must face on my own. And as much as I appreciate his presence, I understand that this battle is mine to fight.
“Anya are you okay?" My mom's voice breaks through the heavy silence, and I nod, trying to convey reassurance despite the turmoil swirling inside me. But her next words shatter the fragile peace, casting a shadow over the moment. "Why didn't you call us? This is what we've been worried about, and now look, you got hurt!" Her tone is accusatory, triggering me.
Instinctively, I pull back, feeling the weight of her words like a physical blow. But then I feel Jacob's hand on my back, a silent reminder of his unwavering support. Drawing strength from him, I gather the courage to speak up.
"You know, that's so like you!" I retort, my glare meeting my mother's gaze head-on. "I get hurt, and immediately it becomes my fault, right?"
The words hang in the air, charged with frustration and resentment, as I confront the underlying pattern of blame and judgment that has plagued our relationship for far too long.
My mother's taken aback by my accusation. "I don't blame you, Anya!" she protests, her voice tinged with defensiveness.
I scoff bitterly. "Yes you do! Ever since I came back home, you've blamed me for Paul! You told me I embarrassed you, embarrassed the church! Every time his name came up, you gaslit me! You never stopped reminding me every single day of the mistake I made by staying with Paul."
"Anya, you're being overdramatic," my mom interjects, attempting to dismiss my feelings.
Throwing my hands in the air in frustration, I continue, "And you still gaslight me! I can't win with you! No matter what I do, it's never going to be enough to make up for what I did!"
Nana chimes in, “now why don’t we all take a breath and try to calm down”.
"YOU'RE BEING CHILDISH, ANYA! STOP THE DRAMATICS!" My mother shouts, ignoring Nana, as she gets in my face, her anger palpable.
Before I can respond, Jacob steps in front of me, pulling me back gently. "This may not be my place, but she isn't to blame for what she went through," he asserts firmly.
My mother glares at him, her anger flaring. "You're right, it's not your place! Stay out of it! You didn't live it; you didn't hear the words being said about her! About us !" Her words are a harsh reminder of the deep wounds that still fester beneath the surface.
"And you didn't live through what she went through!" Jacob persists, his voice steady and unwavering. " You didn't have to cover the scars and bruises! You didn't have to live with the victim blaming!" His words are a painful reminder of the trauma I endured.
"Jacob, stop! No!" I plead, but he continues, standing tall and resolute. " You weren't the one who had to deal with the hitting day in and day out!”
I pull on him, “No Jacob please! Don’t!” pleading with him not to go further.
“ And more importantly, You weren’t the one being raped every night!” he pauses and the room is so silent you can hear a pin drop.
Jacob then puts his arm around me, “she had to deal with all of it, and with no one there to support her or tell her she would be okay." His grip tightens around me, offering silent solidarity, and I'm overcome with emotion. On the one hand, I don’t know if I was mentally prepared for my parents to hear my secret but on the other hand, no one has ever stood beside me in front of them, no one has cared enough to stand up for me before.
Tears stream down my face as I look at Jacob, gratitude and disbelief churn within me. But when I turn to face my parents, their expressions are a mix of shock and denial.
"Anya, what is he talking about?" My father's tone is firm but laced with concern, while my mother's accusatory words cut through me like a knife. "What lies have you been telling people?"
My head snaps up, shocked that even when they heard everything, they still chose to not believe me. Nana comes next to me and places her hand on my shoulder. Having both Jacob and her standing next to me gives me courage.
“I think you both should hear her out, instead of assuming she is lying” Nana says, squeezing my shoulder in comfort.
“Mom! Stay out of this!” my dad says glaring at Nana. Then my mom repeats, “You have a tendency to fabricate stories to get attention, so I’ll ask again. What lies have you been telling people!” she seethes.
"LIES?!" I snap, my anger boiling over. "Are you serious right now?!" I struggle to contain my emotions, my voice trembling with rage. "YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M DONE!" I yell, my frustration reaching its breaking point.
"Do not talk to your mother that way!" My father's voice booms, his emotions taking over.
I turn and glare at them, "Oh, so because she’s my mother, I’m supposed to allow her to talk to me any way she wants?! But the moment I stand up for myself, I’m the one being disrespectful?!" I scream, the weight of years of pent-up resentment and pain crashing down on me.
"ANYA MARIE –"
"FUCK YOU BOTH!" I cut off my dad's attempt to call me back, storming out through the front door. Despite not having had one in weeks, I fish through my bag and retrieve a cigarette.
My hands tremble as I extract the cigarette from its fresh carton. My dad follows me outside, shaking his head disapprovingly as he observes me lighting it. Jacob joins me, followed by Nana and Pops.
My dad is about to say something, but Jacob cuts him off. "I think you should leave," he says to my parents as my mom storms out.
"Who do you think you are!? She’s our daughter!" my mom shouts back.
“And she is my granddaughter! ” Nana says and she takes a breath, “But, I think that we should all take a breather and try to be civil about this”.
“Civil!” My dad shouts, “you should have told us what happened the moment it happened! We have a right to know what is going on with our daughter!”
Jacob's face is stoic, but his eyes show the anger inside. "Maybe you should start acting like you give a fuck then," he says through gritted teeth.
My dad scoffs, "That is one way to 'impress' your girlfriend's parents" he says, glaring at us.
"After seeing how you reacted when you found out your daughter was being abused and raped every day, and how you immediately assumed she was lying and brushed it off like it was nothing…" Jacob clenches his fists before releasing a deep breath. "Your opinion means nothing to me after the way you failed her," he finishes.
As my parents turn toward me, my dad's disapproving remark cuts through the tension. "Real nice, Anya," he says, his tone heavy with disappointment as if he's resigned to me making yet another mistake.
I've reached my breaking point by trying to fulfill their expectations of the perfect daughter. "At least he believed me the first time I told him the truth about Paul!" I snap, my voice laced with bitterness. "He never once questioned what I was wearing or what I did to deserve the abuse! He never made me feel like I wasn't good enough." Tears trickle down my cheeks despite my efforts to hold them back. Nana passes me a tissue silently, and I gratefully accept it before turning back to my parents.
I take a breath and continue, "The fact that someone I've only known for three months has treated me a hundred times better than those who have known me my whole life should give you pause. Maybe make you question why I didn't... why I don't want to come back," I explain, my voice trembling.
“Ahem” I hear my Nana fake a cough from behind me and I smile at her attempt to break the tension.
“Correction, better than those who have birthed me and raised me my whole life” I say as Nana smiles and nods.
My dad's expression falls, regret flickering in his eyes. "Anya – “
"Jacob is right. I think you guys should leave," I interrupt, my tone firm as I take Jacob's hand. I refuse to look back as my parents exit.
“I’m sorry for this happening” I say to Nana and Pops as I see a bunch of their neighbors staring toward us.
“Oh, hush dear, they’ve always been nosy” she says reassuringly and guides me back into the house with Jacob.
Closing the front door behind us, I collapse into Jacob's arms, finally allowing myself to break down as he offers his support and comfort.