Athena

34. That's Just Sadistic

I roll over on the bed to snuggle Cruz, to show him my appreciation. "You're such an amazing person, you know that?"

He smiles and shrugs. "I'm... alright."

"You've been through so much, and, yet, you're still so fucking... good. Most people wouldn't be able to hold onto the kinder parts of themselves, especially after being raised by an asshole like your dad."

"I dunno if I'm really a good person."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, as a kid, I never knew there was anything wrong with the way my dad treated me. It became the norm. Surviving his bullshit doesn't automatically make me a decent human being. It just made me harder to fuck with."

My heart aches for him. "You're so much more than that, though. I wish you could see what I see in you."

His mouth quips. "You mean, a total dickhead who kicks puppies for fun?"

Shit.

He still remembers that insult?

I wince a little.

"No," I chide gently, "what I see is an amazing boy who inspires me to become stronger, too."

"You mean it?"

"I do."

Cruz's expression softens. "Fuck, Athena. You make me wanna become that guy. For you. For us. I just have to get through the next few months, then... I'll finally be free once I turn eighteen."

"You're almost there. Don't give up, okay?"

His smile widens as he gazes at me with an expression full of hope and expectation. "I can't wait to go to college. I can't wait to see what's in store for us."

My heart melts as I smile back at him. "I know you're only gonna kick even more ass once you get away from this hellhole."

"We're gonna kick ass once we get away from this hellhole," he corrects me, "together."

"Right, right," I echo even though I'm mostly humoring him.

In a way, his birthday countdown mirrors mine. Both Cruz and I have big, big plans to take on once we become legal adults. It's kind of awesome. But also kind of depressing because our plans will lead us in opposite directions.

Away from each other.

I know I should tell him about Persie sooner rather than later, but I'm scared that it might break us up. We should be focusing on him tonight, anyway. Not me.

I'll tell him about Persie—later.

I prod hesitantly, "Was your dad... always... this way?"

Cruz nods. Slowly. "Yeah, but..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I don't really like talking about my dad."

"I get it," I hum, wincing sympathetically, "I mean, we don't have to talk about him if you don't feel like it."

Cruz swallows uncomfortably. A pained, guilty gleam flashes in his eyes. "Sorry."

I feel like Cruz is withdrawing from me again. I don't like it, but I don't press him for more. I can only imagine the can of worms this conversation might be triggering in him.

"No need to apologize. If you say sorry again," I joke, trying to lighten the mood for his sake, "I'm gonna punish you, too!"

His eyes darken with interest. "Punish me... how?"

"I dunno," I muse, "maybe I'll flash you my tits."

"How's that a punishment?" he asks wryly.

"Because I won't let you touch them!"

Amusement gleams in his eyes. "Now that's just sadistic."

I grin. "Right? I'm evil like that."

The tension between us eases as he laughs at my cheekiness.

Cruz appears to be far more relaxed when he remarks, "I feel like I owe you some kind of explanation, though. You're living with us now. You've seen how bad my dad can be whenever he gets... mad."

"You don't owe me anything," I assure him.

He frowns. "No, no, you probably need to know more about what you're getting yourself into in this house. This whole fucking afternoon, I've been trying to work up the guts to start this conversation with you. I want to fill you in on a few things."

Cruz sounds like he's still trying to convince himself to dig deep and open up.

"I mean," I say quietly, "I'm all ears if you're ready to talk."

Misgivings crease his brow. "You sure you wanna hear this shit?"

"Yeah."

Cruz's jaw ticks. "For the record, my dad wasn't always this... intense. He used to be a lot more... lowkey."

His admission catches me by surprise. "What do you mean?"

Cruz pauses again, seeming to struggle to find his words, before telling me, "It was harder to hate him when my mom was around."

I don't quite understand what he's trying to say here, but I encourage him to continue, "Oh, yeah?"

I watch him very intently, eager and anxious to hear what he's about to say.

"He was... nicer... back then. My dad could be thoughtful and funny when he wanted to be. To everyone else, he acted like a good husband, a good dad, a good doctor. So, whenever he lost his shit, it was easy for my mom to brush it off and blame herself, to say that he was just having a bad moment or a stressful day at work..."

My face darkens with extreme disapproval. "Oh, this fucker..."

"My dad hit my mom twice during the years they were together," he says in a rush. "She bruised a little both times, but she never took pictures or went to the hospital."

It's as though Cruz is trying to force the words out before he loses his momentum. Cruz shoots me a pointed look. "That's why I pushed you to get tested after Sam's party."

I gasp, "I see."

Pieces start falling in place.

Maybe he wanted to help his mom through me?

I don't know how I feel about this new realization. It makes me feel sad for him and his mom, though. A new surge of concern flares in me as well.

"Hey, Cruz?"

He eyes me with unease. "What's up?"

I demand in a shaky voice, "Did your dad ever hit... you?"