Flashbacks

Chapter 8: Honesty



Chapter 8: Honesty

I don’t know how long I stayed outside, but I stayed long enough for it to get dark out. I decided to go

back into the house and be a grown and mature adult and talk to my father about everything instead of

blaming him for everything, so I slowly got up from the grass, making sure to dust myself off in case

anything stuck to me. I then began making my way towards the house.

When I reached the house, I counted to ten before knocking on the door.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…

I knocked on the door. I didn’t hear any noise from the inside of the house, so I assumed they gave up

on me already. I was about to make my way off of the porch when the door opened. It was Noah.

He gave me a slightly unpleasant look. “Come in, Elle.”

I slowly nodded my head. “I’m sorry for -” I began saying.

“No, don’t even apologize. You can’t even be grateful that your father wants to be a part of your life. He

cares about you, Elle. He’s always worried for you and doesn’t want anything to happen. He didn’t even

want me to go with him since he wanted to make things right with you, and this is how you treat him?

His family? You are selfish,” he said, anger laced into his voice.

I just stood there silently, not knowing what to say. “Oh.”

I didn’t have any other words to say. I guess I don’t have a right to be mad at anyone. Everything’s my This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

fault. I looked at Noah and noticed that he had a weird emotion on his face, though he tried to hide it.

What was it? Guilt? Regret?

“Mrs. Laverin is waiting for you in the dining room, right around the corner. Try not to make any noise,

the kids are sleeping. I have to go call your dad.”

He noticed I wasn’t going to say anything and walked away, leaving me with a weird pit in my stomach.

I wasn’t going to break down. I simply couldn’t. They would see me as weak.

I walked to the dining room and sure enough, Mrs. Laverin was sitting at the table with a sad smile on

her face. She knows, I instantly thought. I took a seat hesitantly. When she tried to hold my hand, I

quickly put it on my lap.

“He told me everything you told him,” she softly said. “I’m so sorry. He feels like a horrible father for not

being there for you when you needed him. He’s currently looking for you, but Noah’s going to call him

and let him know you came back. Look,” she sighed out, “I know this is really hard for you, but please

give him a chance. I know he can’t make up for all the years he missed but he wants to be there for

you. I promise you won’t regret giving him a second chance.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah. I’ll give him a chance. I was just being selfish, so sorry for that. I’m a bit tired though,

and I want to go to sleep. Do you have a notebook and a pen I can use? And can you tell Mr. Laverin to

come to my room so we can talk? I’ll be waiting for him there,” I said, getting up.

“Yes, of course! I’ll also bring you some food. The kids wanted to see you, but then you ran out before

they could even say hi.” She chuckled.

I simply nodded. “Sorry. I’ll be upstairs now.”

I had a good memory, so I was able to remember where my room was located. I sort of wished I didn’t

have a good memory though. Sometimes I just want to forget things. As I was walking by, I heard

whispers coming out of Noah’s room.

“I’m sorry, sir, she’s being difficult,” Noah said. I think he’s talking to my dad on the phone.

“Yes, she came back. She’s downstairs talking to your wife.”

“No, sir. She’s fine from what I can see.”

“Do you want her to pack her things?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”

I quickly and silently ran away from the door and went to my room, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m

difficult; they always say that. That's what he told me when he was…touching me, but it’s my fault. It’s

always my fault.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“May I come in?” Mrs. Laverins asked. I rolled my eyes. She acts as though this isn’t her house.

“Yeah.”

She came into the room with a sandwich as well as a water bottle and a can of soda. “I didn’t know if

you wanted water or soda, so I brought both,” she explained, handing me the food and drinks.

“Thank you.”

“He’s going to come, by the way,” she said. “He’s just changing his clothes right now.”

I nodded.

“Also, it’s not your fault,” she suddenly began. “Don’t blame yourself for something you had no control

over.” Before I could reply with anything, she walked out of the room. And before I could eat the food

she brought up, Mr. Laverin made his way into the room. His hair was messy, with a few gray strands

here and there. There were small bags under his eyes, all caused by me. I made him tired. I made a lot

of people tired and sick of me.

“Sorry,” I instantly said. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you for something that wasn’t your

fault. I’m sorry for humiliating you in front of your family. I should’ve never said that. I’m sorry.”

He walked close to me, and sat on the bed.

“I should be the one apologizing to you. A part of me knew your mother was pregnant, but I didn’t want

to accept the fact that she might’ve been lying to me,” he said, looking me in the eyes with so many

emotions. The main being sadness, compassion, love.

“I did love your mother once, but she changed completely. She became toxic and controlling. She

thought I was going to leave her, how can you possibly leave someone you love? I’m sorry,” he

apologized. “I still want you in this house for just a few more weeks. I blame myself for you getting

assaulted, raped, beaten, and just hurt. I’m so ashamed of myself,” he said, sobbing into his hands.

I stared at him for a while, shocked by his sudden outburst of emotions. I hesitantly put my hands

around him as he cried on my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for something you had no control of,” I repeated the words Mrs.

Laverin said to me. He lifts his hands to my face and begins rubbing my cheeks slightly.

“I’m really sorry I missed out on your life and was never there for you.”

“It’s okay, dad,” I said truthfully, a tear slipping out of my eye.


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