Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

ANI

I’m back in the room. Alone. And I hate it.

Funny how different I am from Phoenix. He enjoys four walls and being alone. I, on the other hand, am regretting leaving the attic to return to my room. If it weren’t for me, I think Phoenix would have had me stay. But then what? What would happen?

Butterflies swarm in my belly, and I feel like a giddy school girl who has just had her first kiss. It’s as if I’m expecting angels to sing and the skies to part. I just kissed Phoenix Godwin.

If you would have told the starving, cold, poor girl on the Eastside of Heathens Hollow that I would someday be kissing a Godwin, I would have laughed. I don’t get fairytales. I’m not Cinderella.

After taking a deep breath, I try to shake off what happened. It was momentary. Impulsive. He and I had simply confessed some details about each other and were vulnerable and nothing more.

Nothing more.

I need to distract myself and remove the buzzing from my body, so I glance back toward the floorboards and decide a little reading from the journals can’t hurt. Anything to get my mind off the man only one floor above me.

I check the camera and for a second wonder if it’s a good idea. What if Phoenix is watching me? But then he said he would never lie, and I actually believe him. Ignoring the warning voice of caution, I open the hole back up. I’ve been thinking about Freya, and I need to keep reading.

Dear Diary,

It all began with a kiss. I see that now. I see how the darkness began…

I can still remember the taste of his lips on mine the first time we kissed. I can still see the way he looked at me when he first saw me across the room, looking like he was about to die for me.

I close my eyes and tilt my head up as he leans down. I can feel his lips on mine and the sweet sensation of his breath on my face. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, eyes searching for signs that I liked it.

The feeling that had just passed between us was foreign yet familiar. I knew that I had found something special in him, something that I never wanted to let go of.

But as the days went by, my feelings for him started to change. Our conversations became more tense, and his kisses felt forced. I tried to push away any thoughts of doubt, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Suddenly, one night I found myself walking along the edge of the cliff, my heart pounding and my feet heavy. I looked around, trying to remember how I had ended up here. And then I saw him in the shadows, his eyes glowing in the moonlight.

He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. His grip was strong and unyielding, as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

I tried to scream, but he clamped his hand over my mouth. He leaned in close and claimed me as his.

I now can look back and see how Troy Godwin made me his. I see now how I never had a choice. He made it for me.

So why did I think I had a choice now to leave the marriage?

I don’t. I know this. I don’t.

He had taken my freedom away, taken my decisions away, and I felt like a puppet on a string. He was always lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting for me to make a mistake.

My days and nights were filled with fear and anxiety, and I knew that if I ever did try to escape his clutches, he would be there waiting. I was trapped in an endless cycle of darkness and despair, never knowing when or if I would ever find freedom.

Dear Diary

I’m worried about my son. Phoenix is so different from his siblings, Apollo, Ares, and Athena. While they are brimming with life and enthusiasm, Phoenix is a pale shadow of who he should be. His eyes are sad; an abyss of unraveled secrets and hidden fears that I can only guess at. He does not laugh or joke like the other children. He doesn’t seem to have any friends. He is alone in his own world, a solitary figure of sadness. I have tried to talk to him to pierce the veil of sadness that surrounds him, but he turns away from me, like he is carrying a weight too heavy for me to understand.

As a mother, it breaks my heart to see him like this. I fear that I am failing him, and that I am not doing enough to help him. I want to be able to help and understand his struggles, but I am afraid I don’t have the ability to do so. I know for a fact his father doesn’t.

I try to show him love and acceptance, but it’s hard when he is so different from the other children. When I look into his eyes, I feel like there is something more to his sadness, something that is too heavy for him to carry alone. I feel helpless, and sometimes I worry that he may be hiding a family secret from me.

I want Phoenix to know that no matter what he is going through, I am here for him, and I will do whatever it takes to help him. He needs love and guidance, not judgement or criticism. All I want is for my son to be happy and find the strength to confront whatever it is that has been holding him back.

I talk to Apollo, Ares and Athena about their brother, but all they can offer me are shoulder shrugs and lip biting; they don’t really understand what Phoenix is going through either. It’s like we’re all in the dark about this mystery of his, just wandering around blindly hoping that one day it will reveal itself and give us an answer.

My worries for Phoenix are only compounded by my concerns over my other children. Athena, my daughter, is a fiery and passionate soul. She has a strength in her that can be both empowering and dangerous. Her confidence and independence can be inspiring to watch, but it can also lead to recklessness and anger. I try to talk to her about her feelings, but she often shuts me out or gets defensive.

Athena’s temper sometimes gets the better of her, leading to raging arguments or fights with the other children. I am scared for her safety. I don’t want her getting into physical altercations with anyone, let alone her siblings or friends. I understand that she needs an outlet for her emotions, but I worry that if she doesn’t learn how to control them soon, it could have serious consequences.

I have tried many different methods of helping Athena with her anger—teaching her breathing exercises, talking to her calmly when she’s upset, encouraging positive self-talk—but nothing seems to help in the moment when she is overcome by emotion. I just want my daughter to know that no matter what happens, I love and accept her unconditionally.

As a mother of four children, it is hard not being able to protect them all at once from everything that might harm them: whether it be physical danger or emotional trauma; external threats or internal struggles like those Phoenix and Athena are facing.

I look at my son Apollo with a heavy heart. He’s the son that can do no wrong in his father’s eyes. He is handsome, charming and always eager to please everyone—not just his father, but anyone he comes in contact with.

The problem is that I am worried he is too eager to please, and that he’s not being true to himself. I have tried talking to him about this, but he either doesn’t understand what I’m saying or ignores my warnings altogether. All I want for my son is for him to be happy and fulfilled in life. If that means following his father’s expectations then so be it, but if it means striking out on his own path, then I’ll be there cheering him on.

I worry that Apollo is so focused on earning his father’s approval that he’ll lose sight of his own passions and desires. It breaks my heart to think that he might be sacrificing something important for the sake of appearing successful in the eyes of others.

Ares is my hardest child, and perhaps the most difficult to understand. On the one hand he is brave and fearless—always ready to take on a challenge or stand up for what he believes in. He takes pride in being the protector of our family, and his siblings often turn to him in moments of distress. However, I worry that Ares’s desire to protect can lead him to act without considering all the consequences of his actions.

I have tried talking to him about this, but he struggles with understanding abstract concepts like consequence and responsibility. He wants so desperately to please us, especially his father, that he sometimes forgets to think for himself. I worry that if I don’t help guide him soon, it could have disastrous results.

At times like these I wish ever-so-slightly that Ares was more like his brother Apollo—calm and collected—so that I could trust him a little more at times of crisis or uncertainty. Nevertheless, my love for Ares remains as strong as ever.

It is almost impossible to be a parent. I didn’t want to be distant from them but also didn’t want to smother them with my concerns. I just wanted to give them space and love and support. All I could do was take them by the hand and escort them through life and hope that they would find their way in the world. But then there is another part of me. A part of me that wants to run and never look back. Hide from it all. Remove myself completely.

I close the journal with a tsunami of guilt. Phoenix would be livid if he knew I was reading these journals. I found the vault of Godwin secrets, and though I can’t resist reading them… I know deep down I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. It’s invasive. And yet…

Poor Freya. Reading the words of a tortured wife, and a troubled mother…

My connection with Phoenix feels different after reading these words. He has secrets. And I most certainly do. Maybe that’s what’s pulling us together. Maybe we don’t have chemistry or lust causing that kiss. Maybe our darkness is acting like magnets. It’s bringing us together.

But my secret, my darkness, is so much worse than his could ever be. A man died because of me.

Mark, my ex-husband, is dead because of me.

I may not have pulled the trigger, but the minute I brought Daphne and Apollo to the trailer to rescue me… I signed his death warrant.

Trying to gather some self-control, I toss the journal back into the hole, close it, and vow that I won’t read anymore. These are not my tales to read. I just need to go to bed and get some sleep. Who knows what tomorrow is going to bring. I have a life to rebuild, and something tells me this is going to be much harder than I think.