Rising From the Ashes

Ghosts from the Past

After a short while, I walk into the room Xavier told me, and sit across from him on the couch. The room is lit by a giant fireplace across from us. I grab the blanket sitting at the top of the couch, and wrap it around myself. Pulling my feet close against me. I stare into the flames. It reminds me of that night.

I continue to look at the fire, hypnotized by the flames. I no longer fear it, like I used to as a kid. But that doesn't mean I'll ever forget.

"Do you remember the fire?" I ask. Not really intending it to be a question, but more of a statement. Not allowing him to respond, I carry on.

"My parents were trapped, unable to escape their imminent deaths. That night took everything away from me. That night changed my life. My parents were trapped in that building where they burned to death. Then when I was taken into foster care, I was placed in so many horrible homes that I found my freedom by running. It was only once I was out of the homes that I felt safe.”

“What happened that made you want to run?”

“I was in a bad state after being separated from my brother. I didn’t fully understand everything that was happening. But the social worker kept telling me that I would go to a home with a loving family. Perhaps in some way they actually did. But in reality, I was living in a never ending nightmare.”

“What happened?”

I look at him, surprised with how easily I'm saying all this. I take a breath as I let out a confession that I've been holding back, even from myself. I often felt that if I didn't talk about it, it wouldn't be true. 

“In the beginning, everything was great. I had brothers and sisters, a roof over my head, a beautiful bedroom. They loved and praised me, and showed me kindness. Then one day everything changed. I came home one afternoon after school, and found a cage in my room. I thought that maybe they had gotten a dog while I was at school, so I ran out of my room in search for the puppy. My foster parents yelled at me, the moment they saw me. My foster mother grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me back into my room. She opened the dog cage, and threw me in. She then locked it on her way out. Each night, I had to stay in that cage. Caged like a wild animal. I was only a kid so I didn’t understand anything. I thought I had done something wrong. 

As time progressed, my treatment became worse and worse. One morning after being released from my cage, I walked into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. My foster mother was already in the kitchen, reading a newspaper. When she saw me enter, she told me breakfast was ready, and pointed to a bowl of dog food on the floor. I thought she was kidding, so I stepped farther into the kitchen to make my meal. She immediately spun in her chair, and pulled me by my hair. She forced my head down to the food. 

"What an ungrateful mutt you're." She exclaimed. 

"I made your breakfast, and you’re refusing to eat it. You can either choose to eat it, or nothing at all."

For months I survived off of the little bit of dog food they would give me. Most of the time they wouldn’t allow me to eat at all, or I just refused to eat the dog food.

That’s when I started to run.

I ran to escape. I ran to be free. I hoped that if I was good enough, that I could find my brother, and he would save me. To my disappointment, the only person that ever found me was my social worker. She would find me, then bring me back to my foster parents.

Each time I escaped, I was punished. First it was a shock collar that they would make me wear. Then it was nights chained to an actual doghouse in the backyard. I fought with myself about trying to escape. If I stopped running, then perhaps they would treat me better. Afraid, I just decided that I needed to escape and by no means ever come back. 

My social worker had found me once again. Though this time she took me to a different house. I was ecstatic. 

I bounced around from family to family after that. None of the families ever really cared about me, but none of them were as bad as my first house. Nearly every month I was being taken to another house. I never knew why. I just figured that none of them ever really wanted me, and grew tired of me. I didn't care though, as I figured that no one could ever be as bad as my first foster family.

That was until I met my other foster parents, Craig and Tabitha. Craig would beat me to a pulp. If I made him upset he would whip me. He would mentally break me down, always reminding me of how ugly I was. How pathetic. How nobody could love a disobedient girl like me. He would come into my room at night, smashing everything with a baseball bat, telling me how unworthy I'm.

When I was nine, I met his brother. He was nice to me. He treated me like a Princess, so I was always eager to spend time with him. One night when he was babysitting me, he told me to take off all my clothes. I was confused, so didn’t do anything. Upset with me, he pinned me down and began to rip my clothes off my body. Terrified, I laid on the ground frozen, unable to move. 

He began to grab my chest, and kissed it. He worked his way from my chest to my pelvis. He then took off his pants, and began to force himself inside me. It was the most painful experience I ever had. 

Whenever he was left alone with me, he would rape me. After awhile he started living at my foster parents house. He always volunteered to babysit me. Everyday after school, he would force me to strip in front of him. He would then do whatever he pleased with me. He became obsessed with me. Over the years it got to the point where I wasn't allowed to shower or get changed, unless he was watching me.

I found solace in running. The streets were my friend. There was never anyone there that forced me to do anything. No one forcing themselves on me. I would just look up at the stars each night finding a calm amongst the storm.

I loved the fresh air. I liked not feeling trapped or used.” As I finish, there are a few tears sliding down my face that I didn’t know had appeared. I smirk slightly with the next thought. 

"To be honest, I would remember all the times we shared when we would look at the stars at night. It was always my favourite memory. I would picture you telling me about the stars, as I would relax, and fall asleep under the night sky." 

Xavier looks both stunned and hurt by my onset confession. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that. I just got caught up in the moment. I've never actually told anyone that before.” 

I grab the blanket, and pull it off. Intending to leave. Where? I've no idea. But just as long as it's not here. Before I get a chance however, Xavier is quickly at my side, grabbing my wrist, before I can leave, and pulls me into his embrace. 

“Don’t ever think that. Anything and everything you say is important. My only regret is not finding you sooner. I wish more than anything that I could've protected you from all of that. No one should ever be treated the way you were.”

He pulls me closer to him, afraid that if he lets me go, I will try to run. 

“Why are you being so nice to me? I know we knew each other in the past, but that doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

“I’m not being nice because I feel like I owe you something. I'm nice to you, because it's what you deserve. You never deserved anything that has happened to you. You have suffered more in these past few years, than anyone will in a lifetime. You have gone through extreme trials and tribulations, more than enough to crumble a person. And yet here you're stronger than the best fighter I know. I want to take care of you. I want to protect you.”

“What do you want from me in return? Everyone always wants something, so what do you want?”

Dismayed, Xavier looks at the ground. 

“I don’t want anything other than to see you happy.”

I look up at him coyly. No one has ever wanted me to be happy. It was never even a consideration. Xavier runs his fingers along my chin, and slowly raises it, so I'm looking into his eyes. 

“What will make you happy?” He asks, whispering to me. I shudder at the intimate feeling it provides. Not out of disgust, but lust. Goosebumps form all over my body. “I.. don’t know. No one has ever asked me before.”

He looks heartbroken with my confession. He lowers his head to rest on my head, as he pulls my head towards his neck holding me tight, one hand on my lower back, the other tangled in my hair.

“Have you told your brother what you just told me?” He asks, changing the topic.

“No, and please don’t tell him either. It’s bad enough he found me in the state I was in earlier today. The last thing I want is for him to find out that what happened today wasn't just a one off, but a reoccurring nightmare. I don’t want or need anyone’s pity. Like you said, my life sucked. That doesn’t mean I want people to treat me differently because of it.”

Xavier gives me a sly smirk, impressed with my resiliency. 

“Well you should be treated differently. Not meaning that people should be entitled to pity you, but rather, you should be treated like the Princess you're.” 

For some reason, him saying that just sends more shockwaves down my spine. My body hasn’t even recovered from the previous goosebumps, before I can feel the sudden chill spread across my body resulting in goosebumps.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking.”

I didn’t realize how much I was in fact shaking. Xavier reaches over, and grabs the blanket I had around me earlier. He wraps it around the both of us, and pulls me close to his chest. I snuggle up to him. He's like a human heater, his warmth like a blanket of comfort washing over me. I instantly feel at ease when I'm in his embrace. I don't know why that is, but for the first time in a very long time, I enjoy this feeling of peace.

"So tell me more about you. What have I missed?" I ask him, wanting to know more about his life since the fire.