Blame it on the shame Part 3

Chapter 29 (Lou-Lou)

I reach over, turn off the faucet, and lay back in the tub.

Then I close my eyes and expel every ounce of air from my lungs before I sink down and plunge myself under the water.

My lungs burn and white spots form in front of my eyes right before I start to drift off.

My body is at war with itself—the compulsion to breathe is a basic biological response...but so is fear.

I don't want to live in a world where monsters never die. I don't want to live in a world where I can't get better and I'll always be held captive by my past.

I want to be free.

A pair of large hands haul me up so fast I get whiplash. Before I can take a breath, I'm being crushed against a large chest and held tighter than I've ever been held before.

“I knew I shouldn't have left you,” Ricardo says, sounding absolutely petrified.

He cradles my face in his hands. “Don't ever do that to me again.”

“He's go

“No he's not, baby. I won't let that happen—”

“It was the monster.” When Ricardo gives me a questioning look I tell him, “He said it was the monster who made him do it. He said it wasn't his fault, but the sick monster inside him, the monster that would never die. The monster who chose me.”

My stomach lurches and tears fill my eyes. “The worst part is, I believed him. For so many years I believed that it wasn't really his fault. That my Daddy loved me and he was just as tormented as I was. Even when he tortured me in the most horrific ways every night in my bedroom, I still loved him. Because in my head, it wasn't my father doing it to me...it was the monster.”

He moves behind me and presses my back against his chest, holding me against him as I continue. “He made me unlovable. He made me crazy. He made me dirty. He made me believe I deserved what he did, that it was all my fault, not his. He made me a shell of a girl I've never been—a girl I could have been but he killed her before I ever had a chance.”

I crane my neck to look at him. “There's no point in saving me anymore, Ricardo, because there's nothing left here to save. I'm nothing but skin and bones, something the bad men use to ease their sick urges. It's all I ever was and it's all I'll ever be.”

My heart recoils and I start scratching and picking at my skin. “The harder I fight...the worse the war inside me gets. The shame will never go away. Every day I wake up with hope. Hope that I won't be me anymore...and every day that hope is shattered. Every day I'm rotting from the inside out over and over again.”

I look up at him through my tears and my heart crumbles like paper. “The fucked up thing is...I don't want to be this girl anymore. I don't want to be his victim but I don't know how to be anything else. I was never taught how to be anything else, so there's no way I could possibly ever learn. I don't know what the first step is and I don't know how to mend.”

I start shaking so hard my teeth begin chattering. “Fix me, Ricardo. Please fix me. I can't live like this anymore...I'd rather die.”

His expression turns pained and he clutches me harder. “I can't fix you, baby. I told you, you're not the broken one—you keep carrying the pieces of them around with you. Until you realize that yourself, until it finally clicks and you let those pieces go for good...it's not going to go away.”

I start crying harder but he cups my face in his hands. “I love you, Lou-Lou and I can be here for you. I can be here when you want to fall apart and I'll love you through all the pain. I'll show you you're something worth loving, because you are. I can and I will always love you, Lou-Lou. Every single part, every single piece, whether or not they're put back together.”

He tips my chin up. “But you don't get to check out. I don't care how hard it gets, you keep fighting. You don't let that little girl win, because she's what's holding you back. She's what's making you weak.”

He kisses my cheek. “You need to let her go, baby, or you'll be trapped forever. I'm not saying it's simple or that it will be easy...but you need to try. You need to stop believing that you're her, or she'll keep controlling every aspect of your life. She'll keep tarnishing every good thing that happens to you.”

He brushes my hair off my face. “And you deserve to feel all the good things that happen to you. I want you to have every single fairytale you ever wished for, all the good things in life that you deserve. So let her die in this tub, Lou-Lou, not you.”

He's right. I thought I let her go and she died when I killed DeLuca, but she never really went away. And neither did the shame, because I carry it with me daily. Because the little girl in the bathtub won't let it go away...it's all she's ever known.

She doesn't understand that she's not dirty.

She doesn't understand that she deserves to be loved.

She doesn't understand that she can be strong...because she still doesn't understand that it wasn't her fault.

The shame can never go away until I finally understand that. Until I finally realize that although I didn't choose to be his victim...it's my choice to keep remaining one. Whether he's alive or dead, I'm still the one who keeps making the choice to be his victim every single day.

I still give the monster power over me. I still let him keep taking from me.

Ricardo reaches for the soap and lathers it on a washcloth. “What are you doing?”

He plants the most gentle of kisses on my neck and whispers, “Taking care of you. Washing it all away for good, if you'll let me. If you'll trust me.”

His eyes lock with mine and although I have so many questions and things I want him to explain about our current predicament, this moment is too important right now.

I've always believed nothing could wash the shame away...because I've never really tried. I just accepted it would be with me always and I would wear it like the ugliest of scars.

I stand up and reach for the hem of my sopping wet t-shirt before lifting it over my head and throwing it on the floor beside the tub.

His eyes blaze, but it's so much more than arousal. It's that intense love that burns in them for me. The love that reaches places inside me that only he can find. The places that are meant for him and him only.

Ricardo will love me in whatever form I come in. Damaged little girl, his father's mistress, a spiteful and hurtful bitch.

And most importantly—the woman he sees me as.

The woman who's not a victim, but a fighter. A survivor. The woman I want to be someday.

He flicks open the button on my jeans and slips his hands inside. That familiar and potent rush of heat runs through me and my heart begins to race when he slowly slides them off my hips and I step out of the heavy wet denim.

He turns the faucet back on, warming the water before he gently runs the soapy washcloth over my legs and my thighs, taking his time, being delicate and caring.

When his gaze falls between my legs and lingers, my heart hammers in my chest so hard, I feel it all the way down to my toes.

I love that even though he's had me too many times to count, he never acts like it. He treats each time like it's still our first time.