Hopeless (Hopeless #1)(105)
She takes my face in her hands and looks me in the eyes. “I swear to you I was going to tell you everything the moment you turned eighteen. I hate that you had to find it all out on your own. I did everything I could to prevent that from happening.”
I grab her hands and remove them from my face, then step around her. “I have no idea how to respond to anything you’re saying right now, Mom.” I spin around and look her in the eyes. “I have so many questions but I’m too scared to ask them. If you answer them, how do I know you’ll be telling me the truth? How do I know you won’t lie to me like you’ve been lying to me for last thirteen years?”
Karen walks to the kitchen and picks up a napkin to wipes her eyes. She inhales a few shaky breaths, attempting to regain control of herself. “Come sit with me, sweetie,” she says, walking past me toward the couch. I remain standing while I watch her take a seat on the edge of the cushion. She glances up at me, her entire face awash with heartache. “Please,” she says. “I know you don’t trust me and you have every right not to trust me for what I did. But if you can find it in your heart to recognize the fact that I love you more than life itself, you’ll give me this chance to explain.”
Her eyes speak nothing but truth. For that, I walk to the couch and take a seat across from her. She takes a deep breath, then exhales, controlling herself long enough to begin with her explanation.
“In order for me to explain the truth about what happened with you…I first need to explain the truth about what happened to me.” She pauses for a few minutes, attempting not to break down again. I can see in her eyes that whatever she’s about to say is almost unbearable for her. I want to go to her and hug her, but I can’t. As much as I love her, I just can’t console her.
“I had a wonderful mom, Sky. You would have loved her so much. Her name was Dawn and she loved my brother and me with everything she had. My brother, John, was ten years older than me, so we never had to experience the sibling rivalry growing up. My father passed away when I was nine, so John was like the father figure in my life rather than a sibling. He was my protector. He was such a good brother and she was such a good mother. Unfortunately, when I turned thirteen, the fact that John was like a father to me became his reality the day my mother died.
“John was only twenty-three and was fresh out of college at the time. I didn’t have any other family willing to take me in, so he did what he had to do. At first, things were okay. I missed my mother more than I should have and, to be honest, John was having a hard time dealing with everything laid out in front of him. He had just started his new job, fresh out of college, and things were tough for him. For both of us. By the time I turned fourteen, the stressors of his new job were really getting to him at this point. He began drinking and I began rebelling, staying out later than I should have on several occasions.
“One night when I came home, he was so angry with me. Our argument soon turned into a physical fight and he hit me several times. He had never physically hurt me before and it terrified me. I ran to my room and he came in several minutes later to apologize. His behavior the previous few months as a result of his alcohol abuse already had me scared of him. Now coupled with the fact that it had caused him to physically hurt me…I was terrified of him.”
Karen shifts in her seat and reaches down to sip from a glass of water. I watch her hand as she brings the glass to her mouth and her fingers are trembling.
“He tried to apologize but I refused to listen. My stubbornness pissed him off even more, so he pushed me back on the bed and started screaming at me. He went on and on, telling me that I had ruined his life. He said I needed to be thanking him for everything he was doing for me…that I owed him for having to work so hard to take care of me.”
Karen clears her throat and new tears form in her eyes as she struggles to continue with the painful truth of her past. She brings her eyes to meet mine and I can tell that the words on the tip of her tongue are almost too hard for her to release.
“Sky…” she says, achingly. “My brother raped me that night. Not only did he do it that night, but it continued almost every night after that for two solid years.”
I bring my hands to my mouth and gasp. The blood rushes from my head, but it feels as though it rushes from the rest of my body as well. I feel completely empty hearing her words, because I’m terrified to hear what I think she’s about to tell me. The look in her eyes is even emptier than how I’m feeling right now. Rather than wait for her to tell me, I just come out and ask her.
“Mom…is John…he was my father wasn’t he?”
She quickly nods her head as tears drop from her eyes. “Yes, baby. He was. I’m so sorry.”
My whole body jerks with the sob that breaks free and Karen’s arms are around me as soon as the first tears escape my eyes. I throw my arms around her and grasp her shirt. “I’m so sorry he did that to you,” I cry. Karen sits next to me on the couch and we hold each other while we cry over the things that were done to us at the hands of a man we both loved with all of our heart.
“There’s more,” she says. “I want to tell you everything, okay?”
I nod as she pulls herself away from me and takes my hands in hers.
“When I turned sixteen, I told a friend of mine what he was doing to me. She told her mother who then reported it. By that time, John had been in the police force for three years and was making a name for himself. When he was questioned about the report, he claimed I was making it up because he wouldn’t allow me to see my boyfriend. He was eventually cleared and the case was dismissed, but I knew I could never go back to live with him. I lived with a few friends until I graduated high school two years later. I never spoke to him again.