I should have known that, behind closed doors, the similarity to my father would be akin there too.
Cold-hearted. Physically and emotionally abusive.
Why do I stay?
Because it’s all I know.
All I have ever known.
Like a bee drawn to honey, I was drawn to a man like Forbes because the life he offers is the one I’m used to.
It’s easy to be worthless to someone, but to matter to someone … well, I think that would be harder.
I’m not playing for sympathy here. My life is what it is. I live it. There are people out there who are far worse off than I am. Children living with famine and loss, and dying every single day without reason and cause. So yes, I can cope with the occasional beating.
I do believe that everyone has a pain and coping ability that is individual to them, and if you want to feel sorry for yourself because of the hand life dealt you, then that’s your god given right—I won’t judge you for that.
I spent a long time crying my heart out because of the life I had. Then the tears dried up, and I got up and carried on.
I live to my worth. That’s what Oliver taught me.
And there are good times. Little rays of sunshine on a bleak, cloudy day where Forbes shines through, reminding me of why I care about him.
Until the next time he splits my lip or cracks my ribs.
I don’t love Forbes. I tell him I do because he wants to hear it, but really I don’t.
In the beginning, I thought I did, but what did I know of love? I’d never been shown it to know what it was. It had taken me a while before I realized that what I felt for Forbes was nothing more than my own feelings being reflected through my utter desperation to be loved by someone.
Forbes showed me affection in the beginning—so I, of course, gorged like the needy person I am.
The one lesson I’ve learned is that if I were ever blessed to fall in love in the future, I would be able to tell it from my own wants and see it for the real thing.
Not that I ever see love happening in my future.
I’ll be with Forbes until the day I die. Which could be sooner rather than later. One wrong hit is all it takes. Then I’ll be with my mother.
I never knew my mother. She died when I was a baby. Oliver wouldn’t talk about her. I’ve never even seen a picture – he got rid of all traces of her when she died. All I know is that she was called Anna and that she died in a car accident four months after I was born.
I’ve often wondered if that was why Oliver hated me so much. Because I was here, but she wasn’t, and I reminded him of her.
I have her painted in my mind like an angel. She’s one of the things that got me through the hard years with Oliver. I used to imagine how life would have been if she were still here. Would he have been the way he was? And if he were, I know she would have taken me away with her.
I know, because it’s what I would have done, and I have to get that from her. Oliver didn’t have one speck of goodness inside him, so it has to have come from my mom.
Thirsty, I head downstairs to the kitchen. The sound of my bare feet slapping against the tiles haunts me. Shivers run across my skin, fighting horrors to the surface.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and calm myself before walking on, quietly this time. Before going to the fridge, I turn the TV on to fill the space with noise. I pull a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrew the cap and lean back against the counter.
My cell starts to vibrate against my butt.
I pull it from my pocket. I don’t have to check the screen to know who it will be; Forbes. I don’t have any real friends, not ones who call me anyway.
Growing up, I’d kept my distance from other kids. I’d wanted friends, desperately so, but I couldn’t let anyone close because of the way Oliver was. It wasn’t a risk I could take.
After a while, I’d become the weird kid. The loner.
I could have changed that when Oliver died, but I didn’t see any real point, and even less so when I met Forbes. He isn’t exactly big on me having girlfriends. He likes control, and I’m easier as a solo project.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey babe, how much longer are you going to be?”
He’s in a good mood. Thank god.
“Not too much longer. I just have the attic to finish, and then I’m heading home. That just leaves Oliver’s office to do tomorrow.”
“Shall I come over tonight?”
No.
“Of course.” I force bright and bubbly into my voice.
“I’ve missed you these last few days,” he says quietly down the phone.
“I’ve missed you too.” Not once.
“We’ll make up for it tonight.”
Oh god.
“Can’t wait.”
“Great, I’ll come over at eight.”
“I’ll make us dinner.”
“I love you, Mia.”
“I know. I love you too.” I hate you.
Oh a sigh, I hang up the phone, shove it back in my pocket and head back upstairs to make a start on the attic.
***
“Hey.” Forbes envelops me in a hug of expensive cologne and rich cotton.
Forbes is very handsome. Blond hair, six foot, built like a linebacker. He’s the all American boy, and physically, we suit each other. I’m blonde and slim, though Forbes often tells me I’m overweight. And I’m short. Five three to be exact. It puts me a severe disadvantage when things get rough with Forbes. Not that I ever fight back. Fighting back only makes things worse. I learned that lesson a long time ago.