Nate’s comment went ignored, but Garret did reach for the bottle of water and took a long swig. It hurt just to hold the bottle, but the water sure felt good sliding down his throat.
Leaning his head back against the wall, he just closed his eyes for a few moments. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife and kid?” he muttered. “Or is the janitor just worried he’ll have my mess to clean up in the morning?” There was no other reason for Nate to be here. No one cared enough to be here to help. No one cared if he’d hurt himself. No one would care if he laid here all night in a bloody mess. It’s just the way it was. It’s the way it had always been.
He ignored the first aid supplies, just continuing to soak up the pain from the wounds he’d given himself. “Why don’t you just tell Reese to send me to prison?” The question was filled with irritation, but deeper still was a man on the verge of simply giving up. “No more paying Justin to come. No more watching me like a hawk. No more cleaning up after my messes.” He gestured at the blood he’d gotten on the punching bag and the floor. His eyes finally turned back to Nate, and though not as angry, they were full of pain – physical and emotional. “I’m not worth it. To anyone. Never have been, never will be. I wasn’t even worth it to my own parents, so why should someone like you care?” The words slipped out before he’d even thought about it, and he looked away again to take another swig of water. “I thought I was walking into freedom,” he rerouted his thoughts, “and instead, I walked right into a trap…that I laid for myself. Talk about irony.” He shook his head. “Oh yeah, the mighty Garret, so strong, so smart. Had a plan that was sure to stick and all it did was get him stuck in a new kind of hell.”
He scoffed. “Go ahead. Tell Justin he succeeded in his little mind game. Congratulations to the counselor with the big ideas and relentless - albeit pointless - digging.” By now, his sentences weren’t even making all that much sense anymore. All his thoughts were mixed up and thrown together in one muddy mess. He flexed his fingers, but all it did as make his knuckles start to bleed again.
“Did you know one of the first things they did to me was teach me English and get rid of my accent?” The topic had bounced yet again, in a completely different direction. “New name, new language, new country. New person, right? The original wasn’t good enough.”
The words caught in his throat and before he could stop himself, he’d chucked the half-empty water bottle across the room where it hit the wall, sending water in all directions. “Let’s take a five-year-old and see if we can make a soldier out of him.” His tone had become angry again, and he gritted his teeth against his emotions. Justin had wanted the truth, but he refused to verbalize it. He refused to tell anyone the truth. The truth that he’d been sold by his own parents for money. The truth that he’d had no worth other than that single payment. “Let’s see if he’ll kill someone by the time he’s twelve. Let’s teach him how to seduce by the age of fifteen so he can get it down pat before we send him to China on his first mission. Let’s make him think he’s big stuff so he’ll believe he’s actually important.”
Garret hadn’t realized that he’d been flexing his hands as he’d talked, only making the bleeding worse. His eyes had suddenly become hollow caverns, void of life. “And now let’s keep him under control so he won’t turn. ‘Cause if he does, over thirty years of service won’t mean a hill of beans and he’ll just be a new target to kill.” He paused as he stared at the floor. “Over thirty years,” he repeated more quietly. “And absolutely nothing to show for it. Not even the woman I love, ‘cause I just wasn’t worth it. Never was. Never will be.”
A new glance was tossed in Nate’s direction. “Give up, Nate. You can’t fix thirty years of screwed-up programming.”
Eric grinned as he used Stacy as leverage to stand up, and flexed his leg. “Nah. They’d prolly just figure we were up in the hayloft or somethin’.” He threw her a sly look before taking her hand and interlocking her fingers with his. The hayloft seemed a pretty good idea…but at the moment, there was something a whole lot more important…and a whole lot heavier.
Once at Angel’s, he and Stacy were let into the back room where the babies were currently sleeping. He was glad it was just him and Stacy…he’d rather do this without the eyes of the rest of his family. He knew they meant well, but…he just felt better doing it this way.
Still holding Stacy’s hand, he slowly entered the room, his heart pounding so hard, he feared others might be able to hear it. He could see the tiny bundles in the crib, and his hands trembled as he neared. They were beautiful. He was terrified…but they were beautiful.
One of them stirred and opened her eyes, blinking in the light before she started to cry. Pure instinct drove Eric’s hands as he reached down and picked her up before cradling her close to his chest. “Shhh,” he crooned. “It’s okay.” She immediately ceased crying, and stared up at him to study his face, almost as if she knew.
He smiled as the tears started to silently fall again. He didn’t try to hide his emotions as he looked to Stacy. There was fear. Love. Joy. Worry. And there was righteous anger. “How could any mother do this to her children?” he choked out. Despite everything…despite this not being his plan or how he’d seen his future…holding his daughter in his arms now, like this, he knew instantly there was no way he could ever let either of them go. They were his, and his to stay. And they would never, ever feel unloved for what their mother had done.
No comments:
Post a Comment