Counterattack

Overcome

"After my parents died, I was up for adoption, and this lovely couple adopted me," Carter starts.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I say, looking at the troubled look on his face.

"I want to. I think I can share this part of my life with you," I take his hands in mine and soothingly rub his hands with my thumb.

"Even though they looked lovely on the outside, I came to know their true nature two weeks later when I accidentally broke a plate while doing the dishes,"

"She took a broken glass piece and slashed me across my forehead," He says, lifting his hair to show me the bruise.

"Carter," I gasp. A long scar runs across his forehead from one eyebrow to the other.

"Can I touch it?" I ask, my hands hovering above his scar.

He nods his head with a small smile. I touch the scar, and the slimy, soft texture startles me.

"Does it hurt?" I question, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Not anymore, but it does pain my heart when I look at it,"

"Tell me,"

"I got adopted when I was seven. I was expected to do everything they asked me to. If I refuse, they say how ungrateful I am for everything they do and the sacrifices they made for me. I feared my birthdays. They would buy me a cake and a simple gift, which they would later get back from me for simply eating a second slice of cake,"

"It is even worse when they are drunk. They ask me to buy more alcohol, and when I say that I am underage, they would break the alcohol bottle and cut my fingers, and make me write I am sorry with my blood,"

"I went through depression and would get beat up for not stepping outside my room. They even broke down the door once when I refused to open it. I didn't have a door after that," He chuckles, trying not to cry.

"Luckily, there was this guy who I used to play with when they were out, and he taught me how to fight. They would threaten to kill me if I told anyone what happened, so I never sought help,"

"I started fighting when I was fourteen and slowly started saving the money I got from fighting. I was going to run away from my home when I had enough. Then one night, they found out about the money, and that was the worst night of my life,"

Tears finally start falling, and Carter wipes them away aggressively.

"Sorry, I was never allowed to cry,"

I pull Carter into a hug, and he stiffens at the contact. Then slowly he wraps his hands around my waist, and his shoulders start shaking, letting me know he is crying. I hold him tighter.

"I am sorry you had to go through all that. I am sorry I wasn't there to comfort you. I wish we could have met sooner,"

"We did," He smiles, pulling away from the hug.

"We did?" I question, confused.

"I have seen you fight. I used to come to the arena to watch the fights, and your fighting style made me remember you. I didn't know it was you until today, though,"

"You do know the meaning of meet, right?" I ask, snickering.

"I met you," He finishes vaguely. I want to know what he means by that.

"Anyway, that night after they found out, I was beaten black and blue with a belt. The noise alerted the neighbours, and they called the police. They were sent to jail that day, and I was sent to live with their daughter, who I did not know about,"

"Looks like she ran away from home, and I can imagine why. She was the first person to ever cry for me. She apologised over and over for not knowing about this. Luckily, she was living with her boyfriend, her husband now, and they were lovely people. I was a bit sceptical, but they made me realise not everyone is the same. I felt loved for the first time in ten years,"

"Cameron's parents didn't know about this?"

"Nope, they were pretty good actors. They knew how to pretend we were a happy family,"

"Can I see your scars?" I ask, treading on thin ice.

He turns around and lifts his shirt, revealing the scars that remind him each day of his horrible past. I slightly graze the mark, and he jumps due to the sudden contact. I apologise and trace the oldest scar that has started to fade.

"That was the first ever gift I received from them. They beat me with a stick when I was eight for crying,"

"Does it ever go away?" I ask, referring to the emotional pain and trauma he went through.

"Not entirely. This is always going to be a part of me. I can pretend it never happened, but that is not true healing. True healing starts when I face it head-on, and when I look in the mirror and accept that this happened to an eight-year-old boy. It is painful when I always play the victim. I must stop treating myself as if I am weak. I mean, I am a champion,"

"It does get better when I embrace that part of me and realise that everything happens for a reason. If my parents never died, I would have been just an ordinary teenage boy, only thinking about food and girls. I would have never accomplished something this great. It is not a bad thing to be ordinary, but there is something so powerful about being extraordinary,"

"Like you," I state.

"Like you," He declares, pointing at me.

"Me?"

"Just because people went through something more tragic than you, it doesn't make your pain any less valid. You might not know what exactly I went through, and I don't know what it is like to be betrayed by the person you thought would stay with you no matter what,"

"But our pain is valid and real, and what matters is how we overcome it. Whether we get back up stronger or dig a deeper hole and hide in it. In our case-" He grins, standing up, "We used the pain to mentally and physically strengthen ourselves, and it is not so bad to portray your pain through fighting,"

"You should write a book," I chuckle.

"What?" Carter asks, visibly confused.

"I mean, the words you used to describe your pain and how to overcome it. It could help people," I grin, standing up.

"I would probably fall asleep before I write one word,"

"I won't put it past you to do that," I laugh, and he joins.

"Thank you for trusting me, Carter,"

"Thank you for listening. I feel a lot better now," He stretches, yawning.

"You must be sleepy, let's head back," I say, trying not to yawn, the fatigue from fifty laps finally catching up to me.

"So, what to do with the mountain of food," He asks.

I look at all the food, still untouched and let out a hearty laugh.

"You ready for an overnight A4 party?" 

                 _____________________

I am so very sorry for not uploading for so long. My schedule is packed and I have no time to write. I will try to write again and post more chapters for you all. Thank you so much for sticking with me and continuously supporting me. I love you. Jesus loves you.

Love 😍
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