Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"Nine or ten?" he says, his eyes far away. "As I got older, he was snorting cocaine more often than not when he was home. At work, he managed to maintain the image, but as soon as he walked in the fucking door, the mask was off. If I fucked up, I ended up in the closet. He'd abuse the hell out of her. When I was fourteen or fifteen, I realized if I pissed him off enough, he'd get physical with me and leave her alone. So I did that shit for a few years—pissed him off intentionally so he'd take it out on me instead of her. When I came home from school one day and she had bruises around her throat…I just snapped. I broke his arm, and he kicked me out."
I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as my throat burns. His father was a monster, plain and simple. My God. I can't even imagine what he and his mom went through.
"I was mad as hell," he whispers. "I didn't want to be in that fucking house, but I didn't want her in it alone, either. Without me there, she was on her own. And she couldn't fucking leave because he had control of her money. She was completely dependent on him. She had to sneak money out to make sure I didn't end up on the streets." He shudders in my arms, groaning.
"It wasn't your fault, Brantley. None of it was," I whisper vehemently.
"Wasn't hers either," he says. "He was Bellamy fucking Hill. He knew everyone in Nashville. Hell, he golfed with judges, the former police chief, celebrities…" Brantley snorts. "Even with her fortune, she knew she didn't stand a chance in hell of getting custody if she left when I was a kid. He would have crucified her, and I would have been in that house with him alone."
"Of course it wasn't her fault. Abuse victims aren't villains for staying," I murmur.
"You say that." His eyes lock on my face. "But the world doesn't always see it the same way, little bird. Women are vilified for staying, especially if they've got kids. Especially if the kids are being hurt too. Doesn't matter that both parents are equally responsible for their kids, it's like society expects the burden of parenthood to rest with the mother, especially in situations like this. If a mother doesn't get the kids out, they place the blame on her shoulders. Happens all the goddamn time. And my mother did everything she could to protect me, but if the world knew, they'd ask why she didn't leave. It's the first question they always ask." He blows out a breath. "And the sad fact is…she couldn't leave. You don't get to leave a man like Bellamy Hill and keep your kids."
I guess he's right. The crime is so awful that people don't leave room for nuance or the complexities that come with it. When you're being abused, people expect you to just leave. They don't always consider that sometimes, you can't. Sometimes—frequently—your abuser makes it impossible for you to go. And when you have kids, leaving is even more difficult. Especially when powerful men like Bellamy are involved.
Do you stay and do everything you can to protect your kids, or do you leave and risk leaving them alone with someone you know will hurt them? When your abuser has all the power and influence, the only options are awful options. I can't even imagine having to face that choice. It kills me that anyone has to do it.
"That's why you let people say the things you do, isn't it?" I guess. "You aren't trying to protect his reputation. You're trying to protect her."
"I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't leave him. I'd been out of the house for years. There was nothing left for him to hold over her. No amount of money is worth the shit he put her through." He sighs. "I found out that she has a heart condition. If she left, she couldn't afford the level of treatment she needed. She would have died. So, I made a deal with him. I'd go to work at the company and keep his goddamn secrets, and he wouldn't put his hands on her ever again."
"Brantley," I whisper, my heart aching all over again. God, she must have hated that he made that sacrifice for her.
"It was worth it, baby," he says, conviction ringing in his voice. "She's had the medical care she needs, and he hasn't laid a finger on her."
"And you've been in a different kind of hell," I murmur.
"It was worth it," he says again. "We weren't free of him, but it was as close as we could get." He blows out a breath. "I quit drinking and got my shit together, started investing every dime I could to help get her out of there once and for all."