33. Pain and Promises

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I linked the song 10/10 by Troye Sivan above because I think it captures the middle to end of this chapter perfectly, so give it a listen if you want and enjoy :)

***

That three-letter single syllable word was enough to make a white-hot wire weave itself down my spine. As I looked at the woman who shared so many features with the boy I loved, all I could see was his distraught face when he told me his story on the roof of this very building. The uneven scarred tissue on his legs. The trauma she'd embedded with him.

Pure hatred burned within me.

There were so many things I wanted to tell her: that I hated her, to tell her to burn in hell, ask her how she could still call herself his mother after everything she'd put him through, but, much like Tyler, my whirlwind of emotions kept me planted in place unable to move or form coherent thoughts.

"Why is she here?" Tyler lowly asked, his voice tight with tension as he looked at his father, speaking over his mother as if she were a toddler unable to speak for herself.

"Tyler, honey, I'm right here to–"

"I was going to tell you after dinner Ty, but then she dropped by early and through all of this I forgot about our dinner and..." He trailed before he shook his head. "I should have told you sooner."

"Yeah, you should've," was all Tyler said before he swallowed. His grip on my hand tightened until it was borderline painful, however, I made no move to loosen his grip or get away from the death grip his fingers had on me.

"Why is she here?"

"Son, we should really–"

"She's here because she wants her children back," his mom said like a child that was tired of being ignored. "And I'm your mother, boy. Show me some respect."

I couldn't help but scoff, causing her to raise an annoyed brow at me as she crossed her freshly manicured hands. "His mother? You may have birthed him, but you're no mother. You stopped being his mother when you decided that his sexuality sanctioned state-sponsored torture and trauma. You left him there to rot for what you deemed as a mistake as if you, or any of us, are perfect or fit to make that judgment."

She raised a brow at me, obviously displeased that I'd addressed her in such a harsh fashion and weighed in on family business. Usually, no matter how much I disliked an adult I would treat them with civility and respect, but this woman was worthy of neither, and it would be doing myself, but most importantly Tyler, a disservice to treat her as if she were.

"Excuse me, li'l boy, I don't know who you are, but this is family business–"

"He is my family, certainly more than you are" Tyler cut off. "You left me in that place. You ignored my screams and pleas. And now after years, now you decide that you want me back? Ever since you left me there, I haven't seen you or gotten a letter or a simple text asking about me or showing that you give a crap about the trauma and pain you've caused, but now I'm supposed to believe that you care? That you want me back even though I embody everything you see as a sin?"

Her features softened. "Tyler, baby, I–"

"I'm not your baby. I'm not your anything. These two people," he said motioning to his father and myself, "have loved me more than you ever did. They support and care for me as I am. They don't want to change me, but you can't say the same. I see the way you're looking at our hands and the way your eyes keep flickering to Addison trying to figure out what he is to me. Well let me make it easier for you: he's my boyfriend and I love him. I can't say the same for you."

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