Your hands

How could he do this to me?

I let out the first scream, which was bathed in bitterness, I was hurt.

Tired.

Alone

I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't predict my next moves, I threw everything on the floor. The boxes, the small sideboard with things, the potted plants.

The blankets from the living room sofa were thrown.

The porcelain ornaments on the mantelpiece.

The vases.

Everything that could be broken.

I picked up the mirror that decorated the living room and, like the other things, threw it on the floor.

- I hate him, I hate him - I screamed, blinded by hatred.

Until I felt firm hands grab mine and I turned around, Colle was there.

- Let me go - I screamed. The tears came harder, ignoring my commands to stop.

With all the calm in the world, he let me go.

- "It's okay, Nicole," he said, his voice passive.

- "No!" I shouted. - "It's not okay, Ethan! - I took a deep breath and tried to suppress the urge to hit something.

- "I'm here, baby. - He reached out to touch me.

- No!" I screamed again. - Get away, Colle, get away. - He didn't stop until he reached me. I uttered a string of punches to his rock-hard chest as I screamed. - Please back off, Colle, I just can't handle this! Why do you have to be so nice? Why don't you yell back at me? Why don't you throw me out? Why don't you humiliate me? It's too painful!

He pulled me into a hug and, after struggling, I gave in to him.

- Just cry, darling, just cry and take it out, I don't care. I'm right here.

His words broke my heart, and I finally cried. I cried for my childhood, for Madeleine, for Luck, for losing Ethan, for not being able to admit that I was in love with him, the only person I want by my side, for not being able to go back in time. I've ruined everything.

- I'm so sorry," I said between sobs.

- It's all right, darling. It doesn't matter what happened. I'm here. - He stroked and sniffed my hair tenderly.

I spent seconds, which seemed like hours, snuggled up in his arms. He sang the final part of the song, making me smile through my tears. He didn't sing badly, I knew he was trying to make me smile.

Welcome to the Hotel California Such a lovely place Such a lovely face

They livin' it up at the Hotel California What a nice surprise, bring your alibis (...)

I threw my head back and laughed so hard I almost lost my balance.

- That's the only sound that should come out of your mouth," he said, still hugging me. - Nobody in this world should make you so sad, so angry and so broken like this. Seeing you like this makes me want to find the son of a bitch who did this and make him pay.

His face turns red, irritation rising with each new tear that falls from my eyes. But I know it's not anger at me, it's at the man who destroyed me, who prevented me from having a decent future.

- Do you love him? - He asked, lowering his eyes and looking at me. His words hung in the air between us, a grim reminder of how badly I'd screwed things up.

- No," I answered. - "I hate him.

- But you still feel something. You'll know you're over it when you don't feel anything anymore.

I didn't know where he was going with that conclusion, so I just agreed.

Ethan, you must have read something in my expression, because you added:

- We came from a wealthy family north of Los Angeles. For the people around us, our family was a great example of a respectable, traditional family.

His jaw hardened, making his face thinner, older, incredibly intense.

- What people didn't know was that it was all just a bloody facade. My father beat my mother often and used his power and status to cover his tracks along the way. It wasn't long after I turned twelve that my mother died.

I can see when Eithan, swallows the huge lump of cock in his throat and runs his hand down his face.

- I'm sorry, Colle. - It really was a pain I was familiar with. After all, I had lost my father too. However, Ethan's wounds somehow seemed deeper.

I approach him as we sit on the sofa in the living room and he continues to narrate.

- Before she died, she protected us as long as she could. My father was always unstable, but he didn't do certain things because my mother would rather be punished than see any of her children suffer at the hand of her abusive husband. I tried to defend her once, and he used his belt so many times behind my back that I was in bed for a week.

I don't realize that I'm still crying, but I do realize that my fists are clenched at my sides, my heart beating violently against my chest. Ethan was a child, what kind of monster was his father?

- After my mother left, the gap she left became an opening for him to do whatever he wanted with us. Unfortunately, around the same time, Caroline came to live with us, because my father's brother married her and her mother didn't have much more sense than my father.

Ethan's jaw clenched tightly, it's a wonder he didn't break a molar.

- We were just kids, we had no way of defending ourselves. Not from the diabolical horde that my father was, and not from all the evil he unleashed on us. Eventually, he held a few events at our mansion. Only great members of the aristocracy, politicians, famous people attended. We were shown off like in a circus. - His jaw is clenched as if he were grinding his teeth and he lets out a deep breath through his nose like a bull ready to charge.

With my muscles trembling, I ask the question that I'm not sure I really want to hear answered.

- And what happened to you during the parties?

His blue eyes bore into mine and behind that tough-guy façade, I see familiarity. The reflection of my blue eyes in his, but more than that, I see pain. A life full of trials and tribulations. Hiding and being hidden. Isolation and darkness. With a desperation to break free.

- They never touched me, or my brother, but they touched

- Caroline - I finished in a broken whisper.

With his lips pressed into a hard line, he shakes his head.

Oh my God!

- He really didn't care and we had no one to turn to. I practically had to take on the responsibility of looking after my younger brother. He lost all modesty, brought prostitutes home and had sex openly, used drugs regularly even if we were watching. Then he would spend days or months in a rehabilitation clinic. Or involved in his own shady activities. When all that wasn't enough, he took his activities to another level, completely shattering the last vestiges of innocence and humanity we had. Especially with my brother. He looked more and more like my father.

I looked into his eyes and saw absolute sadness in his gaze.

- I woke up one night and he wasn't in his room, it was two in the morning and there had been a party hours before. I went downstairs, after all I was worried about his current behavior. I walked around the house looking for him, when I saw him in the living room, lighting one of my father's Cuban cigars. I tried to convince him to put it down and go upstairs before our father saw us. - He laughed bitterly. - Obviously he didn't hear me, and the next thing we knew we were screaming. I was so tired of this shit, I would have given anything, anything for him to have listened to me. But he...- Ethan smiled dryly. - He was already acting like our father. As I reached for my cigar, I heard footsteps and knew instantly that it was too late. My father had confronted us.

My brother never thought to assume that he was guilty. And my father didn't give me time to explain. - His jaw tightens slightly. - He forced me to stretch out my hand and put out the cigar still burning in it. The first time he pressed down with such anger and pain that I thought I was going to faint.

Unshed tears made my throat feel thick and narrow. He stretches out his palm, both of them, and I see the burn scars on his hands.