Ryvers Redemption✔️

Chapter 23

Bringing my hands to my lap I feel them shaking uncontrollably, I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed waiting for Ryver to help me understand what just happened. I know he's not a soft man but trying to choke me? That's something I didn't think I needed to fear from him, but I didn't think I needed to fear my husband either,, so I guess I'm bad at judging men.

Silent tears run down my cheeks as I try to stop my hands from shaking, gripping my hands together tightly to control the shaking helps a bit,, but I know how I look right now. I once again look like a scared little mouse that I promised when I drove out of the driveway of my home that I would never be again. Never allow anyone to hurt me and not suffer the consequences.

I look up and see Ryver through my tear-soaked eyes and see him start to pace back and forth, looking like a caged animal. I can see the pain flashing through his face features, he regrets hurting me, and it's bringing him pain is almost enough to have to forgive him, but I can't. I can't allow myself to be that person anymore.

I can't be the one always forgiving, always forgetting the pain I am caused by the hands of a man I care about and the truth is, I'm upset with myself. I'm upset that I allowed this man into my life, into my heart and this is the way it ended with him putting his hands on me, and my fear is that his another man like my husband.

"We were kids -" Ryver's deep voice breaks off. He spoke in such a rush I almost didn't understand him.

"Kids?" I asked trying to be brave, trying to force my eyes up and onto him. I need to look him in his eyes, I need him to see the pain he caused me and I have to know why. My fear is that his just like my husband. A furious man that takes his issues out on the women he knew wouldn't or couldn't leave him.

"Our parents... They owed money to very powerful money hungry people. They didn't have a choice." He groans out as he kneels on the floor, but makes no move to come closer to me.

"Choice in what?" I asked quite tone, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

"To give us up. We were taken from our families. I was 5 at the time, some others were a little younger or a little older, they didn't care." He says as he finally brings his head up and our eyes meet and through his eyes, I see the anguish that's covering his facial features as he speaks.

"Where was... " I try to cough and clear my voice, it's sore from crying and screaming" Where was y'all taken to?" I asked.

"They called it a detention center, but it was really a training camp. Do you know I killed my first person at the age of 6" he smiles, but it's without humor?

"6"?

"Yes. I cannot tell you about what my brothers went through, that's not my story to tell nor is it yours to know" he tells me in a kind of hard tone.

I can understand that. I do need to understand why he did what he did, but I can understand why he will not share about the others, and I'm fine with that.

"That's fine. " I whispered. " I'm not asking for their stories, I'm asking about yours. I'm asking why you tried to choke me in my sleep." I grind out, feeling my temper, starting to rise at the thought of his hands around my neck. I felt that feeling so many times, and it's never a good feeling.

Feeling your lungs trying to expand, but you can't seem to get enough air in, it's terrifying.

I should know it's happened to be more times than I'd like to remember.

"I will tell you what I can, some are just too hard for me to rehash, and I have come along way with dealing, but as you have seen tonight, I still have issues." He chokes out when he eyes cut to my throat, making it hard for me to grab it in defense thinking he may choke me again.

"That's fine" I mumble softly, feelings my hands shaking less than they are before as my breathing finally starts to calm down as well.

His still on his knees in the middle of the room and hasn't made an attempt to get closer to me, in which I'm truly thankful for. I don't want him near me right now, I still need to understand what's in his head.

"Go on" I softly encourage him. " Whatever you tell me will stay between us, and if I leave I promise I'll never speak of it to anyone."

"No, please don't leave me, let me finish telling you, and you will understand. I'm not a bad man... Just the horror I have seen and did when I was a child... they don't define me" He rushes out and starts slowly crawling near me.

I throw my hands up in front of my body and shout, "No. Stay."

I feel like a child scared of the dang boggy man now, the fear is unreasonable, I know he is not being threatening, but I can't get the fear out of my body. It's taken a route deep inside my very veins and refuses to leave.

"I won't hurt you..." He mumbles sadly as she sees my reaction to him coming closer.

"You just did, so it's a rational fear that I'm having now, it doesn't make me weak" I all but shout out trying to defend my damn mind now. I'm not scared, I'm a strong woman. I reat that over and over in my head.

"I never thought you weak, I think you're incredibly strong and brave. You gave up the life you have known for years because you knew you deserved better, and I'm sorry you're having to question yourself. I'll give you what you need to know then all I ask you is that once I'm done you don't push me for the rest, I'll tell you everything in time, but it needs to be my time not yours, not on this subject."

"That's fine. If I decide to stay, I won't ask until you and bring it up."

He winces when he hears that I'm still thinking about leaving and the pain once again flashes through his features, and I almost feel bad for that comment. All most.

"As I said, I killed my first human at the age of 6. They stared us on regular animal hunting before that. Took us deep in the woods and left us there to survive for however many days they have seen fit. They didn't leave us any food nor anything to drink. We were left with a knife. Each.

Occasionally they would leave us out in those dark woods for months at a time. We could come back to the camp almost starving and so dirty the first time. We were all too small to kill those animals, wolf's, deer, bears. The first time we hunted we killed small game, like rabbits and fish,, but that wasn't enough to keep us all well-fed for that long.

That was when we lost our first friend. He became sick from the cold, and the infection killed him before we were brought back to the camp."

He stops speaking for a minute, maybe I should ask him if he needs to stop for a moment, that sounds like hell for them at such a small age.