Fighting to Be Free
Page 111
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“Sophie was an amazing kid. She was so happy, so loving and adorable. I did everything I could to keep her safe and smiling. I’d steal practically everything she needed, food, clothes, medicine. My mom was barely around so it was just us really.” His voice broke when he was talking about what an amazing kid his sister was, I could hear the agony in his tone.
“Why didn’t you tell someone? A teacher or something?” I asked quietly.
He snorted and shook his head. “I couldn’t. I knew that we’d be taken and put into care or something, and I didn’t want to lose my sister. I knew they’d split us up and that I’d never see her. I couldn’t have that. I was scared to be alone, I guess I was selfish in that respect and I should have thought about what was best for her in the long run, but I selfishly thought that I was what was best for her. I wish I’d told someone now though, maybe if I had done then she’d be alive. Hindsight can sometimes give you nightmares,” he replied sadly.
I gripped my hand on the back of his head and pressed myself to him tighter. “You aren’t selfish, Jamie. Jeez, don’t ever think that!” I said fiercely as a lone tear escaped down my cheek.
He turned his head and his eyes finally met mine for the first time since this whole revelation began.
“Ellie, don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t need your pity looks,” he said fiercely.
My fingers twisted into the back of his hair as I pressed my forehead to his and squeezed my eyes shut. “Jamie, you can’t stop me from feeling these things. Of course it’s going to upset me that you went through all that because I love you. If I told you these things about my childhood; would you be able to stop yourself from feeling sorry for me?” I asked incredulously.
He sighed, his warm breath caressing my cheek and ruffling my hair at my neck. “I guess not.”
I sniffed and nodded, pulling back and resting my chin on his shoulder again. We were almost at the worst part now; I just needed to brace myself for the impact. “Who was the guy that killed her?” I asked.
His body seemed to tighten when I asked that, his jaw snapped shut with an audible click as his hands tightened into fists as they rested on his knees. “My mom got with Ralf when I was ten. They kind of dated but he used to pimp her out too. He moved in with us and things got better in some ways and worse in others.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted to know the answer.
He shrugged. “At least there was food in the house once he moved in.”
I narrowed my eyes trying to work out his detached tone that had slipped into that answer. “What got worse?” I questioned. He groaned and looked at me pleadingly, as if he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Jamie, please? What got worse?” I repeated.
“Ralf was a sick assh0le. He…. he got off on hurting people. Me especially,” he answered.
“He was the one that-” I couldn’t say it, so I traced my finger on a small round burn mark that he had on the back of his neck.
He nodded, seeming to look anywhere but me. “Yeah. He used to like it. You understand what I mean by that?” he asked.
Like it….
“Oh God,” I muttered, as I realised what he was talking about.
Jamie nodded again, shrugging me off of him as he stood up, rubbing on hand on his arm as if he was cold. “Yeah, he’d get drunk and she’d be off earning him cash, so he’d have a little fun by kicking the crap out of me. After, he’d tell me to clean up my wounds and stuff and he’d watch me do it and…. touch himself.” Images of that seemed to flood my brain and it I was right earlier, this information was definitely going to make me cry myself to sleep for weeks.
“Did he ever,” I took a deep breath before finishing that sentence, “touch you?” My voice came out too high pitched as horror and anger seemed to build up inside. Bile rose in my throat as I wondered how much worse this conversation was going to get.
Jamie shook his head quickly and I breathed a sigh of relief. “No. He just used to like it when I was in pain. Thankfully he never paid much attention to Sophie, well, not until the day she died anyway,” he practically growled the last part. “I hated him so f**king much, Ellie. I used to dream about fighting back, about taking the knife that he used to have clipped on his belt, and ramming it through his heart. But I couldn’t because things were better for Sophie with him there, so I just let it go on.”
“You let it happen so that your sister could eat? That’s, that’s…” I shook my head not having the words.
He shrugged as if it was nothing. “She was the most important thing, and when he was there things were better for her. I coped with it,” he stated casually.
“Jamie, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He laughed humourlessly. “Sorry you ever met me, huh? Yeah, you probably should be. You don’t need someone like me in your life,” he stated flatly, shaking his head.
I stood up and walked the four paces over to him, gripping his hand, pulling gently to try and get him to look at me. He turned, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the floor again now. I’d never realised how insecure he was, he was like some sort of little lost boy thinking that everything was above him and that he didn’t deserve things. The thing he’d just said clearly told me what he thought about himself, and all of that probably stemmed from the abuse he suffered as a child.
“Why didn’t you tell someone? A teacher or something?” I asked quietly.
He snorted and shook his head. “I couldn’t. I knew that we’d be taken and put into care or something, and I didn’t want to lose my sister. I knew they’d split us up and that I’d never see her. I couldn’t have that. I was scared to be alone, I guess I was selfish in that respect and I should have thought about what was best for her in the long run, but I selfishly thought that I was what was best for her. I wish I’d told someone now though, maybe if I had done then she’d be alive. Hindsight can sometimes give you nightmares,” he replied sadly.
I gripped my hand on the back of his head and pressed myself to him tighter. “You aren’t selfish, Jamie. Jeez, don’t ever think that!” I said fiercely as a lone tear escaped down my cheek.
He turned his head and his eyes finally met mine for the first time since this whole revelation began.
“Ellie, don’t try to make me feel better. I don’t need your pity looks,” he said fiercely.
My fingers twisted into the back of his hair as I pressed my forehead to his and squeezed my eyes shut. “Jamie, you can’t stop me from feeling these things. Of course it’s going to upset me that you went through all that because I love you. If I told you these things about my childhood; would you be able to stop yourself from feeling sorry for me?” I asked incredulously.
He sighed, his warm breath caressing my cheek and ruffling my hair at my neck. “I guess not.”
I sniffed and nodded, pulling back and resting my chin on his shoulder again. We were almost at the worst part now; I just needed to brace myself for the impact. “Who was the guy that killed her?” I asked.
His body seemed to tighten when I asked that, his jaw snapped shut with an audible click as his hands tightened into fists as they rested on his knees. “My mom got with Ralf when I was ten. They kind of dated but he used to pimp her out too. He moved in with us and things got better in some ways and worse in others.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted to know the answer.
He shrugged. “At least there was food in the house once he moved in.”
I narrowed my eyes trying to work out his detached tone that had slipped into that answer. “What got worse?” I questioned. He groaned and looked at me pleadingly, as if he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Jamie, please? What got worse?” I repeated.
“Ralf was a sick assh0le. He…. he got off on hurting people. Me especially,” he answered.
“He was the one that-” I couldn’t say it, so I traced my finger on a small round burn mark that he had on the back of his neck.
He nodded, seeming to look anywhere but me. “Yeah. He used to like it. You understand what I mean by that?” he asked.
Like it….
“Oh God,” I muttered, as I realised what he was talking about.
Jamie nodded again, shrugging me off of him as he stood up, rubbing on hand on his arm as if he was cold. “Yeah, he’d get drunk and she’d be off earning him cash, so he’d have a little fun by kicking the crap out of me. After, he’d tell me to clean up my wounds and stuff and he’d watch me do it and…. touch himself.” Images of that seemed to flood my brain and it I was right earlier, this information was definitely going to make me cry myself to sleep for weeks.
“Did he ever,” I took a deep breath before finishing that sentence, “touch you?” My voice came out too high pitched as horror and anger seemed to build up inside. Bile rose in my throat as I wondered how much worse this conversation was going to get.
Jamie shook his head quickly and I breathed a sigh of relief. “No. He just used to like it when I was in pain. Thankfully he never paid much attention to Sophie, well, not until the day she died anyway,” he practically growled the last part. “I hated him so f**king much, Ellie. I used to dream about fighting back, about taking the knife that he used to have clipped on his belt, and ramming it through his heart. But I couldn’t because things were better for Sophie with him there, so I just let it go on.”
“You let it happen so that your sister could eat? That’s, that’s…” I shook my head not having the words.
He shrugged as if it was nothing. “She was the most important thing, and when he was there things were better for her. I coped with it,” he stated casually.
“Jamie, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He laughed humourlessly. “Sorry you ever met me, huh? Yeah, you probably should be. You don’t need someone like me in your life,” he stated flatly, shaking his head.
I stood up and walked the four paces over to him, gripping his hand, pulling gently to try and get him to look at me. He turned, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the floor again now. I’d never realised how insecure he was, he was like some sort of little lost boy thinking that everything was above him and that he didn’t deserve things. The thing he’d just said clearly told me what he thought about himself, and all of that probably stemmed from the abuse he suffered as a child.
