Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 132

"After a while, he asked me why I didn't like him. It was after he downed a glass and was filling it back up again," he mumbles, and I sigh. "I told him that wasn't true, I would have stood up to him if I wasn't in that damn chair, but I couldn't really defend myself."

It was now that I understood why Kent really hated that time in his life. It wasn't because he was consumed by the thought of him never walking again. It was feeling powerless.

"He said that's what Cali had said, so if I didn't feel that way, then she must be a liar," he whispers, and I watch this guilty look spread over his face. "He was drunk, I didn't want him to go to wherever she was and take it out on her... so I told him that I had lied, that I hated him and to fuck off," he huffs out and runs a hand through his hair. "He threw his glass at me."

"Oh, baby," I whisper, standing up and going over to him. That was terrible, worse than the stories of his mother and father getting into domestic disputes. He gladly lets me take a seat on his lap and wraps his arms around me. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, and he nods.

"He missed, it smashed onto the wall behind me," he explains, and I kiss his forehead, feeling shaken for him. "The maid came in, which I think saved my ass. She started cleaning without a word. She was used to glass and mess from my parents' fights. Then Ernie left." He takes my hands and gives them a gentle squeeze. "Cali came into my room that night and yelled at me, that I'd gotten him angry and I should have tried harder. She was so angry and sad... she just started crying and collapsed onto my bed."

I squeeze his hands a bit, and he squeezes them back, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I begged her not to marry him, that he was a monster and she refused," he sighs. "She said she had to, and there was nothing she could change."

It's hard to imagine the girl I just met a few hours ago being so submissive and breakable. She seemed bold and confident when I met her, someone who'd never let anyone tell her what to do.

"A few months later they came back on spring break," he whispers, and I blink. "Everything was so much worse. Her eyes were sunken in. When I saw her back in a dress for dinner one night, I could see her whole spine poking through, her shoulders were completely skin... she was like a corpse. Still blonde though, still barely there in conversation."

He finds a new picture in the box, and I look away, feeling grossed out. Seeing bones like that means you have to be starving yourself.

"Her ring had to be resized because it didn't fit her finger anymore," he sighs, and I feel my throat tighten in sadness. "I went to see her one night while Ernie was out. When I knocked on the door, it cracked open, and I watched her take a pill. When I said her name, she wouldn't turn around. I was walking again at this point, so I walked up to her. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she recoiled instantly. When her head turned, she had a black eye."

"He hit her?" I ask quietly, and he nods.

"She said she walked into a door, which is a load of crap. It was dark too," he sighs. "She told me to get out and leave her alone. When I refused, she walked straight into the washroom and wouldn't come out," he whispers, and I feel my eyes tear up. "I shouldn't have left, I shouldn't have."

He nearly looks like he'll cry, and I sigh, placing my hands on his heart, kissing his forehead.

"Mom and Dad went out that night, I didn't. I stayed because Mom thought I could use my rest now that I was getting better," he whispers, and I sigh. "I heard him come back; he was loud and drunk. I don't know where he'd been before that, but he was angry," he says, sounding haunted by the thoughts in his head. "I heard him knocking on the bathroom door, and she yelled for him to leave her alone. I got nervous and stayed at my door because I wasn't sure what to do."

"That's a tough spot to be," I whisper quietly, and he nods.

"I heard him kick down the door. I don't think he knew I was home because he started shouting at her that she was worthless and to get up. She started screaming, and something inside of me snapped. I bolted down the hallway, and when I got to her room, he was dragging her out of the bathroom by her hair. She was trying to fight him off, and when she got a good kick in, he backhanded her, and she fell to the ground."

I hear my own audible gasp, and he squeezes my thighs, trying to help me stay calm, even though my mind didn't want to.

"He got on top of her, and I ran over before he could hit her again. I was seventeen, but I wasn't going to let him do that shit to my sister. I picked him up and punched him, three fucking times, and then she grabbed my arms, yelling at me to leave him alone," he mumbles, looking totally frustrated, and I sigh.

That was the hardest part about relationships like that; somewhere inside her head, she thought it was love.

"I made her go back into the washroom, and I called my parents," he mumbles. "Dad always told me to call him first, so I did," he whispers, shaking his head. "They came home early and saw Ernie on the ground, holding ice to his face. At first, they thought I'd hit him unprovoked... then they saw Cali and got a little smarter."

"At least they knew," I mumble, and he sighs.

"Dad got Ernie out of the house, telling him to go if he didn't want us to call the cops," he mumbles. "We brought her to the hospital, a private one that wouldn't leak any of that stuff to anyone else. They told us she was malnourished, her hair was falling out because her body didn't have enough fat. An X-ray showed a fractured arm and dislocated shoulder that hadn't healed well... they'd been living together for over a year, and who knows when all of this started before that," he sighs, shaking his head. "They also found out she was hooked on Vicodin, which were the pills I saw her taking."

"That's terrible," I sigh, and he nods, eyes going a bit red.

"My parents... they don't know what a marriage is. They've fought and thrown things... but what happened to Cali was bad. They were at least smart enough to know that," he spits. "I yelled at them, told them that this was partly their fault, that they made her feel like she had no choice and backed her into a corner. They didn't know what to do, not that either of them were going to take a break from their lives to figure it out," he grumbles. "She moved in with me, away from our Hamptons house and into my city apartment when she got well enough to be discharged."

Kent took on the caregiver role, an impossible thing to do as a seventeen-year-old who'd seen it all happen.

"I brought her to therapy, cooked her dinner... it was quiet for weeks. She couldn't talk about it, then she could only talk about it, and that was hard for me," he whispers, and I watch a tear roll over his cheek. "The first thing she did when she got better was box-dye her hair brown again and cut it. She did it herself in my bathroom. Mom would drop by, but she wouldn't talk to her. Cali's still sore about how my parents treated that whole situation."

"That makes sense," I nod, wiping away his tears.

"She'd been gone for most of my teens because she went to school in London, then she came back only to be completely ruined by some monster who beat her senseless. My parents didn't hurt her, but it was their unbearable expectations that made her feel like she needed to be with him. Eventually, she told me she just tried to find new ways to get through the weeks. That became her normal."

The disdain he had for his parents made so much more sense now, it made sense before but this was so insanely bad I couldn't process it. "When she got better, she brought me to our safes and opened hers, showing me all the proof she'd kept." He pulls out a USB from the bottom and then sets it on the desk. "That stick has a picture of everything he ever did to her, videos or voice memos she'd managed to record. When she'd come home, she'd transfer it all on and put it in here for safekeeping." He sighs, tucking it back safely.

Some part of Cali survived all through that if she was actively documenting her abuse. She knew it would be important to keep.

"She used it against him to get him to back off and leave her alone. She told him she'd release it, go to the police, and file a restraining order if he didn't move far away from her."

"Good, fuck him," I mumble, and he nods. "Where is he?"

"California," he tells me. "Far away where he can't hurt her."

"Thank god," I breathe, and he nods, packing all of the difficult pictures back up.

"She applied to Columbia for that fall. She made dad pull strings for her so she could get in. She wanted a clean start close to home, and he did it. He still feels guilty about all of that, and I hope he never gets over it," he says bitterly, and I nod. "She applied for exchange after transferring her credits, and she's been in France since August. She slowly rebuilt her life; she's doing what makes her happy, and she hasn't dated anyone since him."

"I can't believe all of that," I whisper, and he nods. "I don't even know her, and... I'm proud of her. You'd never know."

"That's how she wants it," he sighs. "It put a strain on our relationship too. She tells me all the time that I saved her life. It just... changed how we were. We still have our jokes and help each other, but... things are different. I saw her at her worst, I helped her put her life back together because I couldn't bear some stranger doing it because my parents wouldn't," he says and then clears his throat. "That's why we're kind of formal and awkward, but seeing her happy and healthy is important to me, and it makes me so happy. She's the only person I love other than you."

This is hard on him, he's never told anyone this. Probably not even a therapist for God's sake. I'm the first.

"Pack all of that up; we should get out of this room," I whisper, running my thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, looking distraught. I help him, and we leave the room the way we found it, and I kiss his cheek. I'm happy he trusts me enough to tell me this, but I know how emotional he feels right now.

We walk up to his room, and he rests his cheek on my chest, arms wrapped tightly around my body. I sigh, running my fingers through his hair and trying to calm him down.

I think I've discovered the reason Kent's really never dated anyone before me.