Chapter 29 #4
Fear. Fear of judgement. Fear of someone else confirming my darkest thoughts. My breath caught in my lungs, and I tried to remove my hand from Enoch’s, desperation clawing up my throat.
Leave. Hide. Cut. Bleed. Purge. Punish.
Enoch squeezed my hand tighter, refusing to let go.
“Breathe, baby. You’re safe.”
My eyes catalogued the fastest exit, scanning the trail and the steep terrain around us. But short of running back down the trail and all the way back to my apartment I was stuck here. Trapped with these feelings. Trapped with my poisonous secret that was slowly killing me.
The urge to vomit swelled and I wanted it to stop. Everything. The world. The acidic sickness coursing through my veins. My fucking heartbeat.
Enoch released a deep breath and my eyes found his.
Brown. Patient. Unrelenting.
They stared into mine with such possession that I couldn’t look away.
The poison must have gone to my brain because I couldn’t fight it anymore.
“I killed them. He said it was a generational curse, but it wasn’t. It was me,” I confessed, lips tingling from lack of oxygen. “I prayed so hard. I prayed and I prayed—”
“Breathe.”
My eyes went wide, imploring. “Do you hear me? I killed them. I begged God to prevent me from getting pregnant and I thought He hadn’t heard my prayers, but then I miscarried and I—”
“I hear you. Now, breathe.” Enoch’s hands captured my face. “Breathe, baby.”
My body listened of its own accord. I shuddered as I drew in a breath and released it. He took an exaggerated deep breath with me, his eyes never leaving mine.
Still patient. Still possessive.
“I was relieved. Relieved that they weren’t going to suffer with me. What kind of person does that make me? I-I’m disgusting and I hate myself for it. I hate myself. I hate me.”
“Breathe.”
My head was spinning, my voice a keening wobble as the words flew from my mouth.
“I hate me, Enoch. I hate me. Seven times. Seven times. I hate me.”
“Breathe. Just breathe.”
I gulped down another bubble of air, trying to understand why he wasn’t reacting. Why he was still touching me. Why he wasn’t revolted, repulsed.
My stomach flipped and I abruptly pulled away from Enoch’s hold, bending over as I expelled everything from my stomach. Gentle hands held my braid behind my back, and my body shook with an involuntary tremor.
The poison had run its course. For now.
I spat, roughly wiping my mouth with my sleeve before taking a shaky inhale.
Enoch’s hand left my hair and a moment later my water bottle was in my periphery. I took it, swishing my mouth with the cold water before spitting it out on into the grass. I stood up, stepping away from the vomit and Enoch followed, his eyes watching, assessing.
I gingerly swallowed a sip of water, staring at the root jutting out of the ground in front of me.
“You didn’t kill them.”
My eyes found his with stupor.
“You didn’t kill them,” he repeated. “You miscarried. That’s not your fault.”
“But there was no medical explanation,” I argued. “There was no reason for it to happen, again and again and again.”
“No reason? Shiloh you were under extreme, I mean, insane amounts of stress. You were being abused. You were suppressing a lifetime of trauma.”
“That’s not—”
“You wanted your unborn child to be safe,” Enoch said firmly, holding my stare.
“Right?” I nodded. “So, it’s no wonder you were relieved because you knew they wouldn’t be safe if they survived the pregnancy.
That doesn’t make you a killer, Shiloh. It makes you a mother.
A protective, fierce mother. Who would have done everything in her power to protect her children should they have been born. ”
“But what if it was some punishment from God? I didn’t repent for my sins. I didn’t purge the devil. I didn’t—”
“Shhh. Baby. Stop.” His hands were back on me. Holding my face. Like I didn’t disgust him. Like he still loved me. “You didn’t kill them. God isn’t cruel.”
“So, it was the devil then. I wasn’t clean.”
“Baby, what are you talking about?”
“I…” I shook my head. Mind still spinning. “Nothing.”
“Shy,” he sighed heavily, his forehead pressing against mine as he closed his eyes.
“I don’t know what that prick told you, but the only one like the devil is him.
For what he did to you. For whatever he said to make you believe that you were at fault.
Bad shit happens. And I hate that so much of it has happened to you, baby.
I hate it. I hate it so much, but bad shit happening to you doesn’t make you a bad person.
It makes this a world with bad things in it.
I wish I had a reason. I wish I had a reason to give you for why you’ve had to suffer but I don’t.
It’s the nature of this world. There is pain, suffering, heartbreak…
but there’s also beauty, good, love. You just have to have the hope to see it. ”
I released a shaky breath, using my free hand to clutch Enoch’s wrist and I let what he said sink into my bones, shake the unsteady mantel on which all of my self-hatred rested.
“I see you,” I whispered. “Your love.”
Enoch sighed, his fingers weaving into the hair at the base of my skull as he pulled me impossibly closer.
“I can’t stop the bad days from coming, but I can promise you that I’ll be with you through all of them. I promise to be your one good thing. Always. Forever.”
His lips met mine with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking my cheek. He pulled back and I opened my eyes to find him holding out his cupped hands.
My brow rose in confusion and I looked at him with a silent question.
“Give it to me.”
I glanced down at my water bottle. He shook his head.
“Give me all that hate.”
He smiled sadly at my blank expression and dropped his hands to his sides.
“I’m not going to tell you not to hate those fuckers who did this to you, because I sure as shit can’t do that myself.
But don’t hate yourself, baby. You’ve been through every kind of hell and fought your way out.
” His hand rose to my face, fingers caressing my temples.
“I love this mind. These eyes. Fuck knows I’ll never be able to stop staring at their beauty.
This mouth. Every freckle.” His hand trailed down ‘til it landed across my chest. “This heart. Every scar. Don’t hate this body that fought and won. Love it. And everything about it.”
My heart thundered in my chest. I fought the sting of tears, the lump in my throat, the sob building in my chest.
“I love you. All of you. Always,” he whispered.
I flung my arms around Enoch’s shoulders, letting him lift me from the ground so my legs circled his waist. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent mixed with the sunscreen and forest-scented bug repellent.
His arms banded around me, grounding me, keeping me locked in this moment where everything felt right, good, safe.
Home.
Enoch felt like home.