Love, Dad

11. Everything Comes Out

She was still sickened in the sun. Though it had been many weeks since Caiti had found herself in this situation, she discovered that it still prevailed. That things, as she had said, never changed. Again she was trapped under him, and again she couldn't breathe. Only this time that feeling she'd had—that spark of hope—was so much stronger, having grown and grown inside of her until it was bursting at the seams as it did now. She could hardly contain it, hardly allow him to climb on top of her last night the way he always did. Yes, it welled up within her, but she still felt as if she was not yet there, not yet strong enough to be brave.

It had also been many weeks since she and I had spoken about this, about her truth. Maybe that was it, the catalyst that spurred her growth. Or maybe it was all coincidental, an ironic timing for the conversation. It didn't matter, and she only knew that it was different now. In her mind she went through all the things she'd like to do to him, all the things she would say if only she knew she could. They were not kind things, but she smiled all the same as they brought peace to her.

Feeling him against her, flesh to flesh, made her burn. Not with passion, but with something she considered she'd never really felt. Hatred. Pure, undiluted. Before, it was easy to excuse the things he did—because he was sorry, because he knew he had problems that he was trying to deal with, because of his own demons. Because he was no different than all the other men before him. So why should he be any different? That time was passed now—the time to think of it in those black and white terms. Now she despised him, wanted him off of her, wanted to be away from his flesh and his touch and his very being.

She was still sickened in the sun, but this time she wasn't afraid of the truth. This time she saw it for what it really was, and she knew that just because she didn't feel the pain anymore didn't mean it wasn't still there—it was still wrong. Yet now that she saw the truth, she also had to face what was in front of her, this situation, and what she would do about it. What she could do about it. It was not an easy thing to think about, or a pleasant one, but with the hope that she had dwelling within her, she felt that for the first time she had more options than to just keep going on the way she had.

This time around she was not so gentle as she pushed him off, causing him to fall away sleepily. Getting out of bed, she hurried to the bathroom and skidded onto her knees, throwing up the toilet seat and hanging her head over the bowl as she emptied the contents of her stomach. When she had lost everything that she had, she remained there, heaving uselessly into the water, having no will to do anything else as she understood just what that meant for her. Caiti's mind tried to run through all the scenarios, all the ways in which this would mess everything up, but she wouldn't allow those thoughts.

Instead she got to her feet, slowly, and held down the handle to make the proof go away—anything so that it wouldn't stare her so haughtily in the face. Right now she just needed to continue focusing, continue thinking about what was going to be best for her. That was the only way she was going to get through this. When she had found some calm, and convinced herself wholeheartedly that it was best to ignore everything else, she went to stand in front of the mirror, to inspect her body in its reflection the way she did every other morning without fail. It was routine, ordinary, but this too was different.

When she saw the bruises and marks on her body today it made her sad. Sad that she was here, that she let him do these things to her, that she just sat by and took it. Today she couldn't bear to stare at herself, to think about it any longer, and in a rush she gathered her makeup and started covering it all immediately. The sooner she did that, the sooner she could make her escape, to go to work, to be somewhere safe. Somewhere that she could forget what her life was like here.