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trigger domestic abuse and depictions of violence
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▪︎ Wednesday ▪︎ ▪︎afternoon▪︎
+Harlow+
I've never stood up for myself like I did with Henry this morning. I felt a rush of fury at the sight of his furious yelling. Situations like that always make me so sad and broken down, I hate being so gentle about it all. But something shifted after Sebastian snapped Henry toward fear. I'm still feeling defeated over all we've been through and my own brother being an unsupportive asshole through it all.
But I laid it into him so deeply while he watched and didn't say a damn word, I saw my brother break apart in realization. Sebastian helped Ava upstairs after Henry quieted. I love Sebastian, its been a month and I love him.
My brows were furrowed and I held so much anger and animosity for everything. My life was always in the shadow of his, the pain inside has been festering for decades. As soon as our bedroom door clicked closed, it flowed from me like the most healing river.
"Henry, you're just like Dad. By 30 he was a professional at that belittling shit that eventually made us cower in the corner as teens. Here you are yelling at my four year old, over spilled milk."
I run my hands in tight angry fists grabbing through my hair, "I mean seriously, Henry! The temper and picking us apart, you've been amazing at stepping up when I really need you, but it's like you act put out by having us here...and we've been some strange secret that you never talk about. If you didn't want us around, shoulda just told me."
I swallow the sadness and focus on the anger he fills me with. "You aren't who we need, but I truly wish you were. You've broken Ava's already faltered spirit, and you don't know what we went through because you made me feel judged everytime I tried to share. You don't hear me...I was abused for a year..."
Then the heaviest silence as I watched pain fill his eyes. I let out a loud groaned breath.
"It's funny how it all comes full circle, huh? Abusive parent to abusive partner. It's a vicious cycle."
I run my fingers through my hair, looking at him as he listens with eyes on his hands. "Henry, mom and dad were kids when they had us but you-you were wanted...I never was. And I know you don't see it that way, but...for me, childhood was lonely and always being a second thought."
I hate thinking about that time, how broken and weak by childhood made me feel. Everything I do for my daughter is so she never feels an ounce of that kind of pain.
"When dad got mad, you remember how he was... well, remember after he'd calm down, when he went to your room and tucked you in?... maybe even apologized to you?" He looked up at me with a single nod, his sad eyes looking into mine like he knew what I was going to say.
