Abuse: The Complete Trilogy by Nikki Sex Read Free Book Online

perfect. What
he did couldn't be wrong. It just couldn't . It’s so much easier
to blame yourself.
    I loved my father, and I loved my father.
    Monster! Pervert!
    The man I adored more than anyone else in the whole world, deceived and
betrayed me. It’s impossible to reconcile what happened with how I felt. Now I
can’t trust my emotions because one thing is certain—I have no idea what love
is.
    Perceptive as always, André sees my confusion.
    Arching one dark eyebrow, his gaze is filled with understanding. “A
father who is always cruel, he is much easier to deal with, no? The child’s
conclusions and resolutions are obvious: ‘He is a bad person,’ or, ‘I will not
be like him,’ and, ‘I will escape him.’
    When I frown doubtfully, André adds, “ Mais oui! Perhaps this child
witnesses his father hurting his mother. Right then, while still in his diapers,
the infant decides, ‘When I am old enough, I will kill him.’”
    The picture of a baby plotting his father’s death surprises a burst of
laughter out of me. Not from humor—because it isn’t funny. Probably more from
shock.
    “No! Really?” I ask. “That young? Do children still in diapers think like
that?”
    “ Oui, oui! But of course! Such resolutions come oh, very early in
life. A person does not always act on such a thought, yet sides have been
chosen. From then on, in the child’s eyes, everything the father says or
does is wrong.
    “In your case, all was uncertain… for your father was not wicked, all
of the time. Your confusion was the result of two opposing forces with no
clear resolution. In this case, ‘Father is good’ and ‘Father is bad.’
    His words are spot on.
    I find I’m nodding in unconscious agreement.
    André pauses and his face softens. His compelling dark eyes meet mine. “Such
a child must then live a lonely life of bitter uncertainty, constantly moving
back and forth, between joy and despair.”
    Wow.
    This is such a simple way to sum up my childhood—yet to hear it stated so
succinctly is an inexplicable relief.
    For me, despair was a result of suppressing my rage. When I couldn’t
focus my confusion and anger outwards, it often boiled inward, to the misery of
self-loathing and guilt.
    With André’s
careful direction, general memories of my father and my unnatural relationship
begin to fall from my lips.
    I can’t tell him
specifics.
    Whenever my words
trail off, he prompts me with attentive nods and sounds such as, “Oh?” or “Mm?”
    His calm demeanor
doesn’t change—respectful interest is what registers in his expression. Not
embarrassment, not shame, not sympathy. Not shock, horror, disgust or pity—the
four of which I fear most.
    He’s not angry
for the lost innocence of my childhood, nor is there any other emotion except mild
curiosity.
    He’s focused on
me. He’s right with me, as I bare my soul.
    The man is easy
to confide in, yet there’s so much buried here. I’ve barely touched on the
subject. I’ve given him no particulars.
    I tell André of
the ‘games’ my father and I used to play. My dad interfered with me starting, I
think, from about age nine. I explain that I was the oldest of three children,
and my father’s ‘favorite.’ As a child, this favoritism seemed normal.
    Looking back now,
it’s so obvious what was going on.
    It’s a wonder no
one else saw it.
    With respectful
and exact questioning, André pulls the truth from the dark well of my
subconscious, stuff I’ve never spoken of to anyone . Specifics I’ve tried
to keep buried deep within myself.
    The devil is in
the details.
    These are the
toughest to speak of, so I skirt around them as much as possible.
    It doesn’t matter
what I say or do, André knows what’s going on. He’s patient and understanding—yet
I’m aware of a no-nonsense element of steel within this mild-mannered
Frenchman.
    He intends to
make me tell him everything.
    That’s what I’m
afraid of.

Chapter 7.
    “Abuse? Ah.
Such problems, even