Finding Her Happiness

Chapter 17:

Colby Violet's P.O.V.

"Hey, Daxton?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Does Alex not like me? I mean, he seems nice but he's been a bit rude to me."

"How could anyone not like you?"

"I do have a disorder. My family thinks I'm crazy. Like there's something wrong with me. They sent me away. I'm grateful they did because now I've met you, but I could've just gone to school. Maybe we could've met that way."

Daxton turns to me, a serious look washing over his face. Before I can even blink, I'm wrapped up in arms. He holds me close, his cologne and natural scent filling my nose, making me pull him even closer. For what feels like an hour, the most perfect hour, Daxton and I hug each other. We don't say anything, we just stay wrapped in each other's arms.

"Baby, I'm sorry that your parents treated you like that. I'm sorry that they've made you believe that something is wrong with you. I promise you that there's nothing wrong with you. You are just who you are. I'm sorry that they sent you away, but I'm grateful, just as you are. I'm thankful I know you."

"Me too, Daxton. Me too. You're so good to me."

"And I always will be. I don't think that Alex doesn't like you, I think he believes that he likes you too much. We've only just met Colby, and we feel something towards you that none of us ever have with anyone else."

"When you say we...you mean...?"

"All five of us guys. We like you. Like you, like you."

"As in, wanting to date me?"

"Eventually. Whenever you would be comfortable with that."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Think about it. What do you want to do? Let's get you changed and then we can hang out with everyone else. Do you want me to stay?"

"No, no. That's alright."

Daxton gives me a small kiss on my forehead, and I wait until he disappears out of the bedroom before undressing. I brush out my hair with my fingers as the shower water heats up to the perfect temperature. My shower is comfortable, the masculine scent of Michael's body wash floating off my skin and into the steam filled air.

With each brush of my fingers against the light scars on my collarbone, I take a rocky breath. I remember the first time my father, Joseph, used the knife on me. It's only happened a few times, and only when he can't control me. Which is rare. But the pain snaps me out of my 'temper tantrums'-- that's what my father calls them-- and gets me to 'shut the fuck up'-- another one of his sayings.

My mother, Jackie, and my brother, Oliver, don't like my father hurting me. Though sometimes I understand that they don't want to stop it. They care for me, it's just that...I can be a little -- how do I want to put this... -- much. When I'm hard to get under control, I need an outside motion to fix me. At first my dad tried hitting me, but that only made me cry more.

And that's when he learned that blood, only my own blood, makes me pass out. On my collarbone, it's easier to hide than my wrists or something, so my collarbone is the place he cuts. They are small, only enough to draw blood, but it hurts. Like a paper cut. The scars are there too, small, not deep, not even raised, but there.