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Click here"You don't care so, why are you asking?"
"Stop deflecting"
"Stop raping my bank account"
"Do you want to get better? For the dreams to stop" How he could ask so softly, tenderly even now, after the hundredth time.
She mocks back, "do you want to get richer? Write another book?" She was turned away from him, eyes turned out to the city past the office windows. He took the opportunity to pinch the bridge of his nose. She could not know this was getting to him that she was getting to him.
"Hellana, please. ..Sit. Can I get you some water?" He watches her turn; not meeting his gaze, and walk towards the chase. The softness of her fragrance assaults his senses again as she moves closer thru the room. She sits too quietly, gray eyes downcast and grimace set in place.
In the entire six months of weekly visits he has never seen her smile. He can count on one hand the times she has looked him in the eyes. Crying. Screaming. Hysterics...This he was used to, trained for. how the hell do you get emotion from stone? She could qualify as a ghost if she didn't leak anger from every pore. It was palpable.
"Hellana," she sneers. "know how that came about?"
"Tell Me" he breathes.
"Mom was in labor with her baby boy for 36 hours. He tried to come out ass first...Always did put his best face forward. Anyway, after the emergency c-section she forgot how to spell. Too high I guess, whatever...Left the other "L" out. Told me she figured she'd make it up with me." She locks eyes with him. "Nice huh? Hell - Ana...How apropos" she finishes in a whisper.
*Did she just?...Snap out of it!* he screams to himself. "You don't like your name?" he replies. Her eyes; which are still fixed on him, narrow slowly to slits. He cannot breathe as she leans into his personal space.
"Hella - Hella-Hella's goin' to heh-el cuz the crazy blood makes her the devil's beh-el
"Hella - Hella - hella's goin' to heh-el gonna sit on daddy's lap with the crazy blood that makes her the deh-vils beh-ell"
The twisted tune is hung thick in the air. Looking down, he swallows as he gathers his thoughts. "Your brother I presume?"
"L is for loony. Loony like him" she says to her hands, clasped in her lap.
"Is that what you believe?"
Snorting, she folds her arms, inspecting her nails. "I am the one on medication...In therapy"
"How do you know he's not" He says, finding himself again as well, *How long was that stretch of silence?* he reels to himself. *Jesus, keep her talking!*
"Because!" she bites back, shooting up to her full height, fists balled. "If he was in therapy I'd know," she seethes, eyes boring into him.
Quickly with a calming breath and maintaining eye contact, "And you would know how?" he pushes quietly.
"He's have to owe up"
"Owe up," he parrots.
"Owe up. Apologize"
He regards her. So vulnerable. Shoulders trembling, staring at him. He wants to go to her. Hold her. Soothe her. She looks away from him. He closes his eyes. He knows the answer. The reason. He will puke later when he's alone. He has to ask, *Just do it. Find the words* "Apologize for what, Hellana?"
She turns and ghosts by him, back to her view out the window.
Silence
His lips utter the words, "What did he do?"
She looks behind at him, face blank. A crooked smile creeps to her lips as he frowns back, "Why baby boy didn't do anathin' wrong, sir" she coos. "Just whatsit that, come natural for brothers and sisters"
Leaning forward; feigning calm, "She said that to you? Your mother?" he continues. He didn't expect an answer. "You don't believe that, do you? *You are not allowed to think that, do you hear me!* he screams to her with every possible part of his being. "Whatever your older brother did, it's not your fault" he finishes.
"How do you know?" she whispers.
His turn to shoot up, pace, run shaky hands thru scruffy hair. *Fuck this* He flies over to her. Kneeling, he takes her hands in his. "Lana."
Silence
He squeezes her hand and tosses, "Lana, look at me...Please. What happened"
Looking up at him, she sees his jaw clenching and unclenching with the staccato of her pulse beat in her ears. "He blackmailed me," she offers up. As the confusion spreads across his face she feels her tears prick behind her eyes and clarifies, "Then he started molesting me."
A story should have a beginning, middle and and end. You skipped a few steps.