Light and playful questions were tossed about between the couple until Jordan was sure that she had eased up enough and was now more open to answering his grave questions, moreso, Emerald seemed to have sensed Jordan’s concern and inner turmoil because by herself, she chose to steer their discussion towards that direction.
“How did you get your scar?” She whispered, stroking his jaw while tracing said scar that ran across his skin.
“From my father,” he paused, catching her gaze. “He wanted to stab my mother with a pocket knife one day, but I got in the way and got beat up just like every other day.” Emerald’s eyes widened as she watched different conflicting emotions play out in his eyes.
“There were much more lining my arms, my torso, my back; they are still very much in existence, only just hidden beneath the expanse of ink,” he smiled but it was nothing like his usual jaw-dropping one. This one was filled with limitless hatred and malice.
Running her hands across his naked torso, Emerald did indeed feel the numerous lines and small bumps marring his skin, especially his rib area. “Was that why you got your tattoos?” she asked.
“Hmm,” Jordan hummed in agreement. “Seeing the scars always reminded me of him,” he held back a snarl at the mention of his father. “Seeing them reminded me of how weak I was and I hated it, I hated myself. Getting the tattoos was a way to punish myself, to inflict pain on myself, but in a way, it also kept me grounded, it kept me sane.
Feeling the sting from the needle piercing my skin somehow diverted my focus from the strangling agony lodged in my being. The physical pain was way more bearable than the emotional one and in some twisted way, it was like my own personal pillar,” he looked down at his chest, Emerald following his gaze to his mother’s name engraved on the skin below his left breast.
“My mother’s name was my first ever tattoo, but after that, I kept going back for more and more. I couldn’t stop, Gem, until I had to focus on my little sister, until Carol needed me more than anything,” he sighed, shutting his eyes. “I am twisted, aren’t I?”
“No,” Emerald shook her head, “you’re not, Cal. You are anything but twisted, love. Strong? Brave? A survivor? Definitely, but twisted? Absolutely not. If anyone else should be aware of the concept of shunning emotional pain with the physical one, that person would be me.
But at least, you were still brave enough to choose life rather than death,” her voice grew smaller, quieter as she ducked her head, moving her hands from around his shoulders and to her right wrist.
Jordan’s eyes followed her action and he couldn’t stop his heart from aching in his chest when he saw the multiple scars marring the skin surrounding her wrist. Their horrible and painful existence had always been well hidden behind the emerald bracelet that never seemed to leave her wrist until yesterday.
He gently grabbed her hand and placed soft kisses on the lacerated flesh while simultaneously thanking the heavens for keeping his Gem and for giving her more chances in life, regardless of how many times she had tried to cut her life short.
He didn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if she had cut too deep or if one of her cuts had been irredeemable. What would have been his fate? Where would he currently be? Would he have ever found love? Would he have ever found someone to keep him sane or would he have forever wandered the Earth like a savage beast?
Jordan shook his head, not wanting to bear such negative thoughts as he pulled her into a hug. “Don’t ever do it again, okay? I don’t want to lose you, Gem, I can’t bear the thought of it. Please,” he pleaded softly, only heaving a sigh of relief when he felt her nod her head against his shoulder.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “thank you,” before pulling away to look into her eyes. They said nothing to each other, revelling in the beat of silence that ensued before Jordan proceeded to voice his thoughts.
“How did you get-” he hesitated, heavily swallowing a ball of saliva as he contemplated whether Emerald was ready to answer his question or not. She slightly eased his worries when a faint smile creeped upon her face.
“My scar?” she completed, to which Jordan replied with a tentative nod. A moment of quietude soon followed as Emerald shied away from Jordan’s gaze and seeing her troubled expression, the man was ready to change the topic when Emerald suddenly held his hand.
Her movements were slow and tender as she played with his fingers, softly caressing his tatted knuckles before extending Jordan’s arm and placing his palm on the clothed swell of her left breast – the exact spot where the scar sat, mocking her rather fair and unblemished skin.
She exhaled a sigh, keeping Jordan’s hand on her breast by resting her hands on his. Shutting her eyes, she whispered, “I guess I’d have to start from the beginning then.”
Jordan, using his free hand, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, shielding her from the pain the memories of her past are about to unlock. He didn’t want her to, once again, go through the agony she had fought so hard to overcome, but if walking through the darkness one last time would bring her the peace and light at the end of the tunnel, then it was best for her to open up.
Emerald, appreciating the heat radiating from Jordan’s body to warm up her quickly freezing heart, began her story.
“We used to be a happy family. Simple but very happy. It was just my father, my mother and I. I had no older or younger siblings, no stepbrothers or stepsisters, no extended relatives to intrude on our privacy. It was the perfect triangle and we were all happy with our simple and easy life.
We weren’t extravagantly rich nor were we poor and with what we could afford, I had all I could have ever asked for and more – a loving mother, a caring and faithful father, or so I thought.”
She paused, her forlorn hues of green meeting his pool of solicitous and empathetic chocolate orbs for a split second before she stared straight ahead, her gaze choosing to remain on his naked chest.
“I had been too young, too naive to see past the façade my father had put in place of his true self. I had been too young, too naive to see the monster lurking beneath those sparkling eyes and wrinkled smile and when I had finally come to realize it, it was already too late and I suffered for it.
I paid dearly for making such decision blindly. I paid dearly for being so judgemental, for pushing her away, for chasing her out of my life, for choosing to believe that monster over my own mother.”
Her hands shook and her fists wrapped around Jordan’s hand, clenching him tightly as she sought his strength, his support. As she sought him as her pillar. Jordan wrapped his other arm tighter around her, providing her with the warmth and support she sought.
“I didn’t know that my parents had been secretly quarreling. They had done an excellent job in hiding it from me but eventually, a crack formed in their wall and the smoke began seeping through.
It started with little arguments that would immediately turn into jesting jabs at my arrival, until it escalated to the point where at midnight, I would awaken severally to their supposedly hushed, yet frankly loud whispers of insults thrown at each other.
Other times when I would wake up extra early for a glass of water or something, I would catch my Mom sleeping on the couch in the living room, but I just thought they were having the usual couple’s quarrel and that sooner or later, they would reconcile. Only they didn’t.
I got tired of everything and one day, I called my father out on it because back then, I noticed that Mom began staying out late. In the mornings, I would only feel her kiss my forehead but when I woke up, she wouldn’t be there.
Back then, I hadn’t known that what she was doing was leaving some breathing space between herself and my father. I hadn’t known that she was hurting and was trying to keep our family from falling apart, but being left in the dark and so young, my father had seen it as an avenue to poison my mind.”
Noticing that her voice had turned grave, Jordan could only continue to give her little squeezes here and there while hoping that they provided her with the comfort she needed.
“When I confronted him on the matter, the bastard had actually had the luxury to look sad and betrayed,” she chuckled humourlessly. “He said he didn’t want me to know what was going on so I wouldn’t hate my Mom. He said that he had found out that Mom was cheating on him and that when he had asked her about it, she had flipped out on him.
He had sounded so convincing, he had even faked tears just to gain my pity but I never saw the malicious intent behind those eyes of his. Even though I had been so young, I still loved both of my parents dearly and I found it hard to believe what he had said, so I decided to hear my mother’s side of the story.”
Emerald shut her eyes and her hands – which were gripping Jordan’s, still lying on her chest – began shaking. Her eyelids peeled open and Jordan saw the frantic look and fear in her green eyes. Despite the A. C cooling the room, beads of sweat could be seen collecting on her forehead as her eyes seemed to plead with Jordan.
“I tried, Jordan. I really tried, but with her always fleeing the house, it was a difficult task. When I managed to get hold of her one late night, she had evaded the topic. She had told me to let it be and to not worry about it, but when I had attempted to push it further, she had snapped at me and sent me off to bed.”
She grasped even tighter onto Jordan’s arm, begging him to believe her. “Believe me, Cal. I had every intention to listen to what she had to say. I had absolutely no intention of believing my father over her, but she gave me no choice. Please believe me, Cal. Please,” she sobbed, holding his hand as though her life depended on it.
With his one free hand, Jordan cupped her face, wiping the tears that streaked down her face while wishing he could do the same with the pain reflecting in her eyes. He would give anything just to take away those agonising memories of hers.
“I believe you, Gem. I believe you with my entire being. It was never your fault, love. Aunt Maggie should have trusted and spoke to you about it, but I don’t blame her either. How old were you when this whole thing happened?” he asked, caressing her cheek.
“I was six,” she whispered, “two years before I was raped.”
“See? You were so young and your juvenile mind didn’t need to be bothered by such things. If anyone is to blame, it’s your father. He is the monster in this story.”
Jordan comforted her and the hatred and spite he had for her father was more than evident in his voice. His malignant hands itched to snap the neck of the man who had caused his Gemstone so much pain, but unfortunately, said man was locked away in prison. Jordan could only hope he would rot in there.
If only they knew. . .