Breathe Me

“No one has ever told me that before… besides my real dad and Pascal”

I take no notice of the warm tears in my eyes, as Kristopher grabs my chin and places kisses all over my face, whispering I love you after each one. With each and every kiss I feel my heart swell with happiness with the three simple words.

“Je t'aime aussi, Kristopher.” I laugh tenderly and wipe my eyes, “I love you so much.” He kisses me on the lips one last time before pulling me to my feet. When I look over to the car I notice Pascal looking at us with a grin, his face smashed up to the window. I shake my head with a giggle and make my way to the driver’s seat. When I settle in and turn the heater on, I peek back and notice Max and Jordan slumped against each other, both of them are exceptionally worn out and battered and I feel culpable.

“I’m really sorry guys.” I sigh as I start to drive towards Pascal’s house.

Max lifts his head, “for what, ma chérie?”

“That you guys had to get involved in all of this. I really thought when I moved here he was going to leave me alone.” I stop at a red light. I glance in the rearview mirror to spot Max with a frown on his face.

Jordan speaks with a dense voice, “Sophia, it isn’t your fault that asshole followed you here, so don’t you dare blame yourself. I think I speak for everyone here when I say that you’re like our family now. You have Pascal and Kris, but you also have this whole team to protect you now. Everyone loves you… except Oksana, but she hates everyone.”

I laugh and feel my face get warm. The sentiment of actually being loved was running through my veins for the first time in over 10 years. It was a strange feeling, but God it felt miraculous. The drive is mostly calm, but it’s a comfortable nonetheless. I finally pull into the garage and scramble out of the car. The guys all trail behind me, groaning and stumbling from fatigue. I wait for Kris and flippantly grab his hand; he squeezes it delicately and kisses my knuckles.

“I have a pair of sweats that you can borrow.” Pascal says silently to Kris, who nods his head and follows Pascal. I yawn and climb up the stairs and make my way to my cozy bedroom, where Frankie hasn’t moved an inch. I change back into my pajama shorts and haul a Canadiens t-shirt over my head.

I’m in the middle of pulling the heavy comforter over my body when I hear a soft knock at my door. I glance up to see Kris standing there, and even in the dark I can see the sheepish smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I sleep in here? I rather sleep on a bed than a couch.”

I grin, “Of course. It gets cold in here sometimes though.”

He laughs and yanks his shirt over his head, “Don’t worry,” he gets under the comforter next to me, “I’ll keep you warm.” I feel the blood rush to my face, and I’m suddenly hit with the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

He pulls me close to him without any effort. One arm wraps securely around my waist, while the other cradles my head close to his bare chest. I blush at how flawlessly he is sculpted; not too burly, and definitely not too scrawny. I let my fingers touch his arm, admiring his tattoo. He sighs when I continue to frivolously trace the artwork on his skin. I heave the comforter up closer to my chin, and relax against the warmth of his body. I giggle when his fingertips brush against the skin on my hip.

“I love it when you laugh and smile. You have the cutest dimples.” He chuckles, “Everything about you is amazing.”

I bite my lip, and rest my head against his chest, noticing the loud thumping of his heart.

His hand rubs my back comfortingly; he chuckles when my eyes try to stay open. He knows that’s my weakness, and I stand no chance. My eyes finally shut, and I give in to sleep.

“Sweet dreams.”
****
“Just shut the fuck up you stupid whore! I know you’re cheating on me!”

My eyes widen, and I pull the blankets over my face, trying to tune out their piercing voices. I hear loud smacks coming from outside in the hallway, along with loud screams and yelps. The sounds were traumatizing to my 10 year old mind. The screaming finally stops, and I hear loud footsteps stomp down the hallway. I quickly leap out of bed and scuttle to my closet, praying that he doesn’t find me.

“Its okay sweetie, you can come out.” I hear a brusque voice. I glance out of the closet, my eyes detecting the man sitting on my bed. He holds my teddy bear out to me, as if bribing me to come closer. I stand up, and wearily walk out of the closet, my arms reaching for the stuffed animal. He picks me up and lays me down in the bed. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks his cold hand pressing against my cheek. He lowers it until it’s rubbing my chest. His eyes gloss over, and he takes a swig from the glass bottle in his other hand.

“My tummy hurts” I whine, and squirm as his hand lowers to my tummy.

“It’s okay; I will make you feel better.” He stands up, setting his bottle on the floor. I watch as he unbuckles his pants, and pulls them down along with his underwear. I frown and writhe away when his hand lowers into my pajama bottoms.

“Go ahead, touch it.” He mutters and brings his ‘no-no spot’ close to my face.

I whimper, “Daddy told me I’m not, suppo-“

“Just do it!” He yells and slaps me. He grabs my hands and yanks me close to his nether regions, a smirk on his face.

God save me.

I struggle for breath and hastily try to sit up. A heavy arm is wrapped firmly around me, preventing me from moving too much. I nearly scream and fight to get free. I’m sobbing and I thrash around, trying to get the heavy arms off of me. I expect to hear the thunderous, gruff voice of my stepfather, but my ears are met with a bleary, Quebecoise accent.

“c'est moi, Sophie it’s me. Please calm down.” His arm tightens around me and he holds me close to him as I cover my face with my hands, trying to stop my tears. I continue to sob, the atrocious memory still playing in my mind like a movie on repeat.

Why can’t I just have good dreams for once?

“Tout va bien se passer,” His arm rubs my back which makes me bawl even harder, “Sophia, it’s alright, everything is going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you up again.” I expect him to be angry at me, but his voice is calm and tender.

His hands tug at mine, “Sophie, please look at me.” My hands slump at his words, and I place them on his chest. His hands take hold of my face gently, his thumbs wiping away the tears on my cheeks. I feel mortified when I see the tired look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I mutter.

“Stop saying that. It isn’t your fault you keep having these nightmares.” He kisses my forehead, and gives up on trying to get me to stop crying.

“They aren’t nightmares… t-there bad memories.” I whimper and try to cover up my face again, but he grabs my hands soothingly.

“Tell me,’ he whispers, “Tell me what it was about. It might make you feel better to get it off your chest.”

I shake my head, “He raped me… and I can’t get it out of my mind. Every time I close my eyes I see him.”

Kristopher lies there while I babble on like an idiot. He holds me, his deep brown eyes staring into my blue eyes. I’m not sure how long I talk for, and I’m astonished that he has managed to stay awake.

He speaks when I’m finished, “I know I’m not exactly the best at talking about problems, and I know there’s nothing I can do to make these bad memories go away, but if there’s anything you ever need, please tell me.”

I shake my head, “I just need you.”

His eyes close, “You’ll always have me Sophia. I’ll always be here for you, when you have these bad nightmares, and when you need someone to talk to. Even if I’m not physically here, you know you can always call me, no matter what time it is. I’ll never hurt you or abandon you like everyone else.” He chuckles, “You’re stuck with me now.”

I sling my arm across him, pressing my hand against his muscular back. His skin is extremely warm, and now I know why he hardly ever gets cold. He’s like a space heater, especially in the winter. My head falls back against his neck and I sigh.

“Can you say it again? That you love me?” I speak softly, fatigue kicking in again.

“I love you Sophia, I always have and I always will. Never forget that, you are loved.”

“I love you too Kristopher.”
****
“Isn’t Sophie going to come down for breakfast?” Pascal asks when I saunter into the kitchen, where Carole hands me a plate overflowing with bacon and pancakes. I grab the bottle of syrup, glancing at Pascal for a few seconds.

“She didn’t get a lot of sleep last night so I just thought it would be a good idea to let her sleep in for a few.”

Pascal nods, and grins when he hears strident footsteps running down the stairs. It’s not long before his wild kids are running into the kitchen, waiting eagerly for their food. All except for little Zoe who tries to run, but falls in the process.

“Kwis!” She giggles when her dark eyes detect me.

I chuckle, “Hey, Zoe!” She holds her little arms up to me, asking to be picked up. I oblige and pick her up; she wraps her arms around my neck and blushes when Jordan enters the kitchen with Max.

Aunt Carole laughs loudly, “Aww, Zoe! Do you have a little crush on Jordan?” Zoe scowls at her mom, her cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. Jordan smirks at Pascal’s mortified face.

“No! He wook wike a hobo!” She yells. Pascal doesn’t even bother to cover up his laugh, and I watch with amusement as Max falls to the floor, clutching his ribs as he howls with laughter. Breakfast is pretty loud, between Jordan and Kody chatting about hockey, and Max and Maeva talking about god knows what.

“Good morning” The angelic voice makes my head snap up. I see Sophia standing there with a sheepish smile on her face. Her smile grows when Zoe runs up to her, squealing with happiness as Sophia picks her up and twirls her around. After her and Zoe are done playing around she grabs some food from the kitchen, and sits next to me.

“Hey Sophie, what time are you going to the police station?” Jordan asks, and I glower at him when I see Sophia’s face drain of all colour, obviously caught off guard by the question. She looks like she’s about to be sick.

“I uh… I guess around noon. Why?” She stutters, and nibbles on a piece of bacon. Jordan shrugs innocently, not even realizing his question had any negative effect on her.

“Just wondering.”
****
“Thanks again for coming here with me” I mutter solemnly as Kris drags me into the police station. I had been dreading this moment ever since the policeman had told me about Ryan. Kris smiles at me and squeezes my hand. We both wait long-sufferingly, sitting in the old squeaky chairs.

“Sophia Dupuis?” My eyes widen at the booming voice, Kris kisses my forehead trying to reassure me.

“I’ll be right here, okay?” I nod my head at his words, and stand up on wobbly legs. The officer from last night smiles at me and leads me down a long hall. We come to a halt at a large, steel door.

“Is… Is he in there?” I mutter quietly, taking a diminutive step back.

The officer nods his head, “Yes, but there is absolutely no way he can hurt you. His hands and ankles are cuffed very securely, and I will be in there if he tries to do anything.”

I gaze down at my feet, knowing I have to face my fears. The officer opens the door and walks in before I do. I keep my eyes downward when I enter the cold room. The walls and the floor are both a dark shade of grey. I finally raise my head, and my breath catches in my throat when I see Ryan sitting at the end of a large table. He glares at me, and I try not to snicker when I see how beat up his face is. Both of his eyes are black-and-blue, his lip is busted, and he has scratches all over his face. He looks absolutely dejected and pitiable.

‘Serves him right’

“Alright Sophia, you can take a seat across from Ryan and we can get started.” I nod at the officer and sit down in one of the cold chairs. Ryan keeps his irritated eyes on me, and I know I should feel petrified,

but I have never felt more courageous in my life.

“Alright, I’m just going to ask you a few questions, if you don’t feel comfortable answering them, that is perfectly fine.” He gives me a sympathetic smile before he asks the first question, “Sophia, can you tell me the first time Ryan ever abused you?” The officer asks with a sturdy voice, shifting in his seat and placing a notepad on his lap.

“It was about a week before my dad’s funeral, he got mad at me because I was late for dinner. He grabbed my arm really tightly and threw me against the wall. That was the first time he hit me.” I evoke the memory. That had also been the first time I found out my mom had been cheating on my father.

“Can you describe to me an average day for you when he would abuse you?”

I exhale noisily, staring at Ryan, “I would wake up around 6 in the morning, and he would be passed out on the couch. I would go to school, and usually when I got home he was still knocked out. So I would go up to my room and wait for him to wake up, then he would come upstairs and… beat me, sometimes it wasn’t really bad, but other times he would hit me until I was unconscious.”

“Did this happen a lot?”

I nod, “At least a few times a week.”

“What is the worst thing he has ever done to you? How badly has he injured you?” The officer is scribbling everything down as I speak. I’m surprised he understands my heavy accent. Ryan smirks when my head drops.

“The physical injuries were nowhere near as bad as the emotional trauma. He would come into my room at night and make me touch him, even though I didn’t want to,” I bite my lip, feeling timid that I’m saying this, “I remember on my 14th birthday he raped me for the first time. That was way worse than anytime he ever hit me. I would rather take a beating over being raped any day of my life.”

I gaze across the table, glaring at Ryan. He stares back at me shock evident in his green eyes, “I never thought it would affect you that much, if I would have known, I never would have raped you.” His voice is laced with forged sympathy.

I sneer, “No, you never thought at all. You never thought how badly my life is messed up because of you! All you ever cared about was alcohol, drugs, and making my life miserable! Do you know how many nightmare I have because of you?! You never cared about me so don’t give me that crap! You would do it all over again a second time if you had the chance.” The shock disappears from his eyes and is replaced with fury.

A small cough interrupts our little stare down, “Alright, let’s continue.”
****
“So he actually said that?” Kris asks, a look of incredulity falling upon his face. His eyebrows furrow, and despite my bad mood I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

He huffs, “Why are you smiling?”

I giggle and his dark eyes soften, “You know, when you’re mad or upset, your eyebrows do this weird thing, where they make your forehead wrinkle.”

He pouts like a little kid when I steal a french fry off of his plate. After the interrogation was over, and I had hugged Kristopher for the longest time, we had decided to go get some lunch at our favourite little café.

“What else did he say?” He asks wearily.

I shrug, “He said that I deserved to be hit all those times, he said I was always screwing everything up and I deserved the consequences.”

Kristopher’s eyes narrow as he looks down at his glass of water, “Merde, you don’t actually believe him do you? No one deserves to get hurt that badly.”

I seize another French fry, “Non, I used to believe him though. I used to think that it really was my fault and I deserved to be hit.” I shudder and take a sip of my water, “Then I came here and Pascal convinced that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Pascal’s right.” He states plainly, laughing when my eyebrows shoot up.

“Mon dieu! I think that’s the first time I have ever heard someone say that.” He grins and I rupture into a fit of giggles when he lightheartedly chucks a fry at me. We both continue to mess around, before we fall into a contented silence.

“So what do we do now?” I whisper tenderly, directing my eyes to his profound brown eyes. He scratches his beard, and I try not to giggle again. I don’t understand why women whine about their boyfriend’s having facial hair; to be honest I thought it made Kris look even more attractive, in a weird lumberjack sort of way.

“Well, we don’t have a game for the next few days… we could always go on a little road trip or something?”

I perk up at his proposition, “Where?”

He laughs, “Where did you want to go?”

“New Jersey!”

He coughs and almost spits out his water, “New Jersey? What the hell is in New Jersey? And please don't say Zach Parise.”

I scoff, “The beach, duh Kristopher!”

“The beach? In January?” He plays with the napkin in his hand, and I take in the smirk forming at the corners of his lips.

His smile is infectious, and soon enough I’m smiling along with him, “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to go to the beach, I’ve never seen the ocean.”

“Never? Why not?”

I blush, “They never let me…”

His resolve shatters, “Then I will take you to the beach.”

Please keep the lights on
I'm trying to make it home
The sun is sinking
But I won't go down with it.