Page 105 of Shamed
I nod, biting my cheek so hard that I taste blood. I don’t want to tell her, but she should know, especially after what we just did.
Jesus, I’ve avoided this foryears, and now I’m about to unload my dirty secrets because they rose too close to the surface, unable to remain hidden.
They shouldn’t be hidden from her.
“I never wanted to be like him,” I blurt, pulling in a ragged breath.
Jayne shifts on her feet, confusion crossing her face. “If this is about Jacob,you—”
“Nothim.The man who raped my mother.”
She’s smart, so I’m pretty sure she understands my meaning when her eyes drop to the ground in thought, then fly back up to meet mine again, slightly widened.
“My sperm donor,” I clarify, just to be sure.
Deafening silence rings through the air while she stares at me, processing. “You . . .”
Whatever question she had floats away into nothing, but I’m sure I know what it was. I need to keep going or I’ll chicken out.
I stare at a spot on the wall. “My mom was fifteen when it happened. And because she decided to keep me, her parents kicked her out.”
Jayne’s next breath comes out as awhoosh, but I can’t look at her right now.
“My very first memory of my grandparents is them telling her that I must take after my piece of shit father, because I looked nothing like her or them, and that I’d probably end up just like him.” I swallow, thinking of them peering down at me. “That memory is from when I was four years old. I didn’t even know him or what he’d done.”
Back then, I always wondered why they didn’t want to play with me, just an innocent kid who wanted their attention.
I remember the way they used to look at me, like I was the dirt on the bottom of their shoe, like I had done something to offend them.
“Whenever we saw them over the years, they’d repeat it. They said I was from a rotten tree, and that it would eventually show in my core.”
My gaze flickers to Jayne. Her mouth is hanging open, like she still doesn’t know what to say, but she hasn’t fled yet, so I walk to the chair beside her bed and sit, leg bouncing, hands clasped together.
My pants and shirt are still open, but right now, I don’t give a fuck.
“When I was thirteen, I kissed a girl in class, who apparently didn’t want it, when I thought she did. My mom was called to the school, and I was given a warning. It was this whole big thing that everyone heard about.
“My aunt turned up at our house that afternoon, and I guess Mom had told her what happened as well. I heard them arguing; heard every word that was said . . . My mother had been raped, and I was the outcome of that heinous act. I finally understood why her family didn’t like me.”
Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling. It was the day my world was turned upside down.
My mother was horrified when she realized I had heard them, and she tried so hard to make me feel better.
But the damage was already done.
“As my aunt was leaving, she grabbed my arm, looked me straight in the eyes, and said,‘You’re going to turn out just like that fucking loser.’I’d heard that line said about me before to my mother, but it took on a whole new meaning that time.”
“God, Mase.”
Standing again, I rub at the spot my aunt had grabbed and pace a few steps, unable to keep still.
“I told one of my closest friends about it. He wasn’t allowed to hang out with me after that, and neither were my other friends, except at school. But other kids started teasing me, calling me the mistake, and telling girls to stay away. I learned pretty quickly that people don’t like sons of rapists, especially when the son shows signs of taking after him, and I started withdrawing into myself.” I drop my hand. “Mom moved us away, cutting off all contact with her family.”
Turning back to Jayne, I notice her gray eyes have turned misty, like a rain cloud ready to release.
I want to make sure she understands what she means to me, even if she chooses to leave after this. “I hadn’t kissed anyone since then . . . not until tonight.”
Jayne places a hand to her chest, the mist turning to full-blown tears. Her eyes ask what her mouth doesn’t.
