Does It Hurt? (78)

I nod slowly. “Did you have any friends in school, at least?”

There’s a slight grin. “I did. There were a few others that weren’t too keen on the lifestyle.”

“You got in a lot of trouble, didn’t you?” I gather, imagining a younger version of Enzo sneaking out at night, drinking liquor straight from the bottle, and slipping through the windows of blushing girls.

The last part makes me a little jealous, but I’m not sure if it’s because I didn’t know him then and he wasn’t slipping through my window, or if it’s because I never got to experience things like that growing up.

Kevin never allowed me to have friends. He never allowed me to live.

“We did,” he says. “Not as much as I would’ve liked, though.”

“It sounds mundane.”

He hums, a deep, rumbling sound of amusement. “It was, which is exactly why I acted out. Everything is a sin in Catholicism. I was sexually repressed, but considering I refused to conform, I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow them to take pleasure from me, too. I attended confessions more times than I could count. I asked for forgiveness, but I never really wanted it.”

I snort. “I bet the nuns loved you,” I tease.

“They hated me,” he says with mirth. “Most of them, anyway.”

“Which one raised you? Or did they all?”

“They all played a part, but suor Caterina was who raised me primarily.”

“Did you have a good relationship with her?”

“She did her best with a child who didn’t want to be there and made it very well known. She was nice to me but distant. She wanted me to become something I wasn’t—to believe in someone I couldn’t understand. I frustrated her, and she… wasn’t my mother.”

Sadness pulls the corners of my mouth down, imagining a younger version of Enzo. Lost, sad, and angry because he couldn’t understand why he was there. Couldn’t understand why he wasn’t good enough for his mother.

He was never raised in an environment that showed him unconditional love and warmth, so the hole in his chest only deepened.

“You felt like a burden,” I surmise.

“I didn’t know how to be anything else,” he states plainly.

That’s a punch to the chest. I bite my lip and reach down, slipping my fingers into his and squeezing tightly. His hand is so much larger than mine, and I wish I could hold it forever.

So badly, I want to show him the warmth and love that he deserved. That he deserves.

But I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have and give him something I don’t know he can keep.

He doesn’t squeeze back, but he doesn’t reject me, and that’s enough.

“Were you ever happy?”

“No,” he murmurs. “Not until I moved to Australia. When I learned about great whites, I was instantly enraptured by them—obsessed, even. Suor Caterina knew I would never give myself to God, so she gave me what money she could spare, helped me get a visa, and sent me to Australia about a month after my eighteenth birthday. It was the only time I felt like she might have truly cared for me. I got a job working at a bait and tackle shop, put myself through university, and worked my ass off. That… that was when I was happiest. Broke, alone, but in the ocean, doing what I loved.”

He finally looks at me, but his expression is on lockdown. It’s only now that I notice the crying from above has stopped, replaced by a tense silence. It makes me nervous, yet with Enzo right beside me, I’ve never felt safer.

“Were you ever happy?” he asks, turning the question onto me.

I twist my lips, contemplating that.

“When I was younger, yeah. Before Kevin changed. We used to have fun playing together. Back then, he was nice to me, and my parents weren’t disappointed in me.”

“Why were they disappointed?”

“I wasn’t him,” I say, bitterness leaking into my tone. “Once he started abusing me, I became withdrawn. I was rebellious, while he was the perfect angel. They wanted their sweet little girl back, but they wouldn’t listen when I said their sweet little boy was the one who broke me.”

I can’t see his eyes, but I can feel the anger emanating from him.

“When they died, I was almost glad for it,” I admit. “Because at least then, I didn’t have to convince them that I wasn’t a liar anymore. Funny, that’s exactly who I became when I finally got away from him.”

“Yet, he still haunts you.”

I nod. “Just as your mother haunts you.”

A dimple on the side of his cheek appears.

“Then maybe we could show each other how to let go, yeah?”

I bite my lip, a flood of emotion rising up my throat. I’m still terrified, still convinced there’s no way Enzo can get me out from Kevin’s hold, but I want to let him try, even if it’s selfish.

“Yeah,” I croak, my voice hoarse with unshed tears.

He faces the ceiling again. “Start by telling me the things that make you happy now.”

I smile softly. “Senile Suzy makes me happy. It’s an old Volkswagen van I bought when I first came to Port Valen. I left her in Valen’s Bend campground, and I think she’s going to be gone by the time I get back.” That hurts a little, so I forge on. “Simon makes me happy, too. He’s the one that gave me my tattoo on my thigh. I hardly know him, but he’s the first friend I’ve ever had.”