by Genna Rulon
“I spent the majority of my life rolling around in filth, of course I’m rotten!” she snapped impatiently. “You can’t see me clearly because you love me.”
“Yes, I do love you—all of you—flaws included. However, the guilt has to stop because it is tearing you apart and driving you crazy.”
“How do I stop? You say it like it’s just that easy. Stop—poof—all better. That’s not how it works, Wes.”
“You change your perspective. You are an apple, not poisonous but nourishing. It is that simple. You change your perspective and—poof—the guilt is gone.”
“You don’t understand! You’re surrounded by filth all day long, but you are a river of goodness. Underneath the dirty image you project, you are clean and pure.”
“In what universe are you the dirty, corrupt one and I’m the pure, innocent one? Do you even hear yourself? What you’re saying is ridiculous,” I nearly shouted. She was driving me nuts with her faulty logic. Her self-assessment was so skewed it was nearly impossible to see up from down. “Okay, you are an apple. Yes, you grew amongst shit, but that waste fertilized you—made you stronger and sweeter than most apples could ever dream of being. Maybe some of the filth still clings to you after being forced to spend years in the muck, but, baby—it’s only on the outside. What’s beneath the apple’s skin is untainted. All you need is a thorough washing, maybe a little elbow grease, and you will scrub that grime away to reveal the most beautiful, perfect apple I’ve ever seen.”
She was quiet for a long time, but I could tell she was contemplating my words carefully. A small push and I might be able to sway the jury in my favor.
“Love, I’ve never lied to you. Before there was even an ‘us,’ I confessed to you all of my faults and weaknesses. You have to decide who you trust: the man who loves you and has always given you the truth, or a man who has proven to be a monster and a liar. Each of us has told you who we think you are, now you choose who to believe—it’s up to you to accept who you are.”
Another stretch of silence greeted me. I held my tongue with great effort, knowing she needed to reach the verdict on her own.
“Then you are water,” she said vehemently. “I am an apple and you are the water. I’m covered in filth and you are an expert filth remover. You cleaned me until I could finally see what was hidden beneath the layers of lies and manipulation. You, Westly Black, are my essential element—the water I need to survive and thrive.”
Before my beautiful girl, I never expected to be on the receiving end of someone’s profession of love. But if I was forced to imagine it, such a declaration would not have included apples or water—shows you what I know. Her heartfelt words resonated profoundly, opening a previously undiscovered compartment in my heart that she filled completely.
“I’m happy to be your water, baby. Actually, I’m honored.”
She nuzzled her head beneath my chin, holding me tightly as if I were her favorite stuffed animal. Slowly, I felt the tension leave her body and she drifted back to sleep.
More than a week had passed since we learned of Jay’s death, and my girl was once again clawing her way out from under the mountain of blame. Regular appointments with Thia, combined with the acceptance and support the gang provided, fueled her progress faster than I’d anticipated. As much as I wanted her to be ‘all better’ instantly because it hurt to watch her struggle, I understood that confronting her past and sorting through the jumbled, misguided thoughts that dominated her mind would take time. Nevertheless, the demons that lived inside her were receiving eviction notices daily. As each packed their bags and left, the vacated space was filled with the love we provided. Visible changes in her appearance were evident; her shoulders stopped tilting forward as if burdened by an unbearable weight and the bleakness in her eyes lessened until it was an occasional appearance versus a constant companion.
Despite the progress she was making, there was no doubt the grief was still fresh, a wound that would heal slowly, leaving a scar in its wake. Thia reminded me this was a natural, healthy part of healing after a loss, encouraging me to engage my girl in conversations about Jay that evoked memories of the good times they had shared. It was an unfamiliar role, yet I did my best to provide a safe place for her to grieve and remember.
Christmas came and went quietly, none of us in the mood to celebrate. We split off to spend a quiet evening alone as couples on Christmas Eve before gathering together Christmas morning for brunch at Griffin’s house. It was a lazy day, tinged with sadness but buffered by the company of friends who were family.
As my girl continued to heal, Sam spent every free minute cooking obscene amounts of food that she insisted my beautiful girl eat, under threat of force-feeding should she refuse. Seeing her plight, I took to swiping bites from her plate when Sam’s gaze was turned, which earned me a smile each time.
Ev took charge of distracting my woman’s when she needed a break from introspection, accompanying her to Higher Yearning for short shifts, followed by trips to the dojo for Krav Maga classes. Ev swore the best way to release frustration and free up head space was beating the shit out of weighted dummies—or better yet, one of the unsuspecting male volunteers.
Griffin watched my beautiful girl like a hawk, swooping in each time she showed signs of being overwhelmed by emotion to guide her through her feelings, encouraging her to express her concerns or regrets so they could dissect them together. He was Thia’s surrogate at the house, ensuring my girl’s psychological care and progress continued to gain momentum instead of regressing.
Hunter continued to work with her on the FBI’s investigation into To Ieró, The Alpha, and Jay’s murder, keeping her apprised of significant developments. The updates appeared to have a substantial effect on her disposition. After each debriefing, she appeared calmer and more at peace, for which I was grateful. She told me that her contribution to bringing The Alpha to justice helped to alleviate some of the guilt caused by Jay’s death.
As Jay had no family—outside of the cult that had banished him—we held a small memorial in his honor to allow her to say goodbye. While my meeting with him was brief and the rest had never met him, we all paid tribute to the man who had our gratitude for the care and protection he showed our girl.
The days passed quickly, each dawn bringing new challenges with well-earned victories. Though coated in sadness, our time together cemented the bond we shared, our relationship now tempered in the fire of adversity and the water of revitalization, forever changing us individually—and most importantly, together.
New Year’s Eve arrived along with bitter cold and biting winds. Huntleigh joined GriffLo at The Stop, where Griffin would have to ring in the New Year. My girl and I decided to stay in, enjoying a quiet evening to celebrate the year’s end and in anticipation of the year to come. We made plans for upcoming holidays and birthdays, and I even persuaded her to join me for a vacation during spring recess. It was our first time looking to the future after living in the past, which I counted as one more victory.
As the clock ran out and the ball dropped in Times Square, I was inside the woman I loved, proving with my body that she was where my years would begin and end from that day forward.
Sleep clung to me like a wet blanket as the first morning of the New Year arrived. My internal clock neglected to recognize it was a holiday, which would have provided the luxury of sleeping in if my body had complied.
Hmmm…there was one surefire way to exert energy that would entice me back to sleep—and I never had to leave the bed. Ready to introduce my girl to this stroke of genius, I reached for her—stretching farther until I found the edge of the bed. Opening my eyes, I listened for sounds of life in the bathroom. Hearing nothing, I sighed with regret—evidently it would be necessary to get out of bed in order to enact my plan.
Heading for the kitchen where her chocolate stash resided, I was surprised to find the room empty until I noticed that the stash in reference was gone. Laughing at the rate with which she consu
med those bars, I grabbed my fleece from the closet, zipping it over my bare chest, and headed next door to find my woman. It was immediately clear that my fleece was insufficient protection against the frigid cold, causing me to sprint like an Olympian while cursing the cold. Fuck! Was there nothing the woman wouldn’t endure for her morning chocolate?
I knocked, knowing the door would be locked as we remained on red alert for rogue cult kidnappers. When no one answered, I rung the bell, estimating the likelihood it would be heard in the shower—slim to none. Shit! Dashing back to my house, I grabbed the spare key for Sam’s, then ran like a bat out of hell before finally gaining entrance. Sneaking up the stairs like a super-spy in hopes of surprising my girl, I was shocked to find her room and bathroom empty.
Dread and denial washed over me. No! She wouldn’t dare. Glancing around her room to take stock, I noticed several dresser drawers were ajar. Don’t you even think about it, I mentally threatened as I approached her laptop that sat open.
Clicking the touch pad, the computer came to life and an image illuminated the screen.
Examining her desk, I found a piece of paper with a single word handwritten across the page… ‘Sorry.’
"Oh yes, the past can hurt. But you can either run from it, or learn from it." -The Lion King
Meg
Two days, 2,200 miles, one train, and four buses later, I arrived in Boise, Idaho at the same terminal I had left from almost eight years earlier. I’d spent twelve hundred of those miles staring out the window, contemplating what Wes was doing and wondering if he could ever forgive me for leaving him. The question was moot as the likelihood of me making it back to him was infinitesimal. Would he—or any of the others—understand why I left? Would they see that I had no choice?
Wes…how did he come to mean everything to me after only two and a half months? We hadn’t even been together a full semester, yet my love for him was undeniable. All I had been looking for was to experience sex in a healthy, typical fashion—to find the pleasure everyone else seemed to enjoy. Never once did I want the emotional entanglement of a relationship, nor did I believe I was capable or worthy of that depth of love. Then, Wes came along and gave me everything I wanted—and more—in terms of physical satisfaction, as well as everything I never dreamed I needed.
Months ago, if I’d been pressed to describe my ideal Prince Charming, Westly Black—or who I thought he was—would have been the opposite in every way. He’d fooled me into believing the same lies the rest of the world held true—that he was an arrogant, selfish, egotistical, immoral, greedy asshole. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t have his moments of arrogance…he definitely did. Although it could be more accurately described as excessive self-confidence in his abilities, which he usually proved was warranted. However, the rest of my assumptions were wrong—so, so wrong.
Wes was actually the valiant knight in not-so-shining armor. He was content to let the world perceive him in the worst possible light, partly because he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about him, but also because it protected him from being hurt. Yet underneath the asshole façade was the man I’d grown to love with every molecule of my being—a man who conquered my body, fought to breach my barriers, patiently peeled back my layers, pushed me to confront my past, forgave me after I’d withheld the ugly truth, and cared for me when I was broken. He accepted me and all my challenges with love and enthusiasm, finding ways to show me that I mattered to him instead of offering empty platitudes. His thoughtfulness was displayed in the small gestures that proved each day I was what he treasured most.
With Wes, I never doubted where I stood, never questioned if I was enough, and never worried about who I was supposed to be. He let me be me, even when I wasn’t sure who me was. In him, I found the home I never had, my safe place to let go of the burdens I could no longer carry and finally find rest. Leaving my home, unsure of when or if I would return, shredded me, but it was my turn to protect him. If I succeeded in vanquishing my demons, I would return to him and be the home that he needed and deserved—the home he spent years hiding from but desperately craved.
When the final email from The Alpha arrived New Year’s morning, I knew what had to be done. It was the only option left. Jay’s murder had made it abundantly clear that The Alpha would stop at nothing to bring me back and protect his secrets. To Ieró was coming for me unless I returned immediately and submitted to his will—purification.
Reading the word on my computer screen was enough to nauseate me. Having been subjected to several such cleansings in the past for comparatively minor infractions, I shuddered to think what awaited me at the compound. Such thoughts led me to question what had been plaguing me for the last one hundred miles of my journey…what the hell was I thinking?
Bravery…such a noble concept, one would think it should come easily in the face of evil. Yeah, not so much. I recalled reading a quote from Ambrose Redmoon in my freshman year literature class that said: “Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.” That about summed it up. Terrified didn’t even begin to cover how I felt about returning to To Ieró. Had there been any other option, I would have jumped on it. But my need to protect those I loved outweighed my trepidation, especially after losing Jay.
Jay—my first friend—the man who stuck his neck out for me, time and time again. Words could not adequately describe the pain of losing him. Even during the years following his banishment from To Ieró, I’d found comfort in the knowledge that Jay was out there…that somewhere in the world there was one person who cared about me and saw value in a lost, broken girl. The contact information he’d left for me was a promise that he would never stop caring, a pledge that he would always be there when I needed him. During his absence, that promise had sustained me, offering the only glimmer of hope in my otherwise dark existence.
After I’d escaped, he fulfilled his vow, protecting me and providing refuge, giving me the temporary security and acceptance I needed while adjusting to an unfamiliar world. He never asked for repayment and never made me feel like I was a burden. He encouraged me to grow and move on, to let go of the past and embrace the potential that lay before me.
And now he was gone…
Why did he have to be a hero? I should have known when Hunter asked for Jay’s contact information that my overly devoted friend would jump at the chance to remove the threat The Alpha posed to me. How could I have failed to realize that Jay would once again try and fix my problems in order to provide a safe environment for me to live?
It was what he always did. Even as a little boy, he recognized the hurt I carried and reached out to me. When I was a lost adolescent with no clue how dysfunctional my life was—how warped I was—he found a way to reach me, enlighten me, and give me hope.
He gave me everything he had to give, and in my heart, I knew there was nothing he would have denied me because he loved me in a way that few would ever experience. For a time, he may have believed there was a romantic component to that love, but I knew better. Jay loved me like a parent should love their child, consistently putting my well-being before his own. He accepted me at my worst, taught me about the world and my place in it, and then let me go when it was time to fly on my own. He never stopped worrying about me and was always there to support me when needed, but he respected the value in me finding my own way. Though we shared no blood, he was family—I only wish I had understood what that meant before I lost him. Instead of having years to thank him for all he’d given, I was left with memories to cherish and regrets for all that was left unsaid. My only comfort was in attaining the justice he deserved—this was why I had to go.
Leaving New York was the hardest choice I’d ever made, but sadly, there was no alternative. Had I remained, To Ieró would come after me and inevitably one of my well-intentioned loved ones would have intervened—stupid, reckless, wonderful fools were liable to get themselves killed. I would not lose anyone else!
So h
ere I stood in front of the Boise Greyhound bus terminal, waiting for one of The Sacred to come and collect me like the Prodigal Daughter—except this daughter didn’t return of her own volition. Although, I doubted the poor toadie picking me up was aware of my duress. Like everything else, The Alpha manipulated the situation to suit his endgame. Bastard!
Images of torture and inhumane conditions swirled through my head, causing the panic already suffocating me to spike sharply. While focusing on my breathing, I reminded myself what I had already endured and survived in his efforts to break me—he’d done his worst, yet I had prevailed. This time would be no different. After all, I’d already sacrificed my first friend and abandoned the love of my life…what else could he take from me?
"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.” -William Blake
Westly
“Hunter, I swear to God, if we don’t do something today other than sit in meetings, planning for every contingency, I will steal your gun, shoot you in the kneecap, and go haul her out myself,” I threatened for the umpteenth time.
“What is with you and my kneecaps? Every promise of violence manages to include them,” he replied glibly.
I was going to kill him. Not figuratively—literally.
“It’s been almost three days! How can you sit there calmly without concern for her safety? The stupid, brave woman sacrificed herself for us, yet you sip your coffee and click away at that computer without a care in the world. Do you know how infuriating it is? Huh, do you? It’s fucking mind-numbingly aggravating!”