Page 59 of Don’t Forget Me

I grabbed a spoonful of the pie and held it up for her. She tried the pie and her nose only scrunched even more.

“Ezra, I’m sorry to break it to you, but that is disgusting.”

“No, it’s not. You are just not accustomed to the fine foods of Scotland.”

She chortled. “Oh, so now you deem me a peasant.”

“Okay, I did not say that,” I argued as I chewed on my Scotch pie. Once I gulped down the rest of my pie, I announced, “To me, you are a queen.”

Lysandra took a sharp breath as her cheeks flushed.

We continued to walk down the foggy paths of Edinburgh. The towers of the city had been tall and haunting. As I raised my gaze upward, it felt as though I would never reach the top of the buildings based on how grand they were. Black cabs drove near the sidewalk we’d been strolling on.

“How do you like it here?” I asked.

She remained pensive for a few moments. “I like it. It’s different. Being here has definitely been the change of scenery that I needed. I was so tired of seeing the same bland and colorless visions every morning.”

“Colorless because of where you lived or because of the life you had?” I asked.

“Both.”

“A few weeks ago, when you saw my dad and me…” For some reason, I couldn’t finish that sentence. “You mentioned something about your stepfather.” I could see her coiling into herself, wrapping her arms around her torso.

I’d attempted to spark dialogue between us about her sorrows before, but she immediately shut down.

“That’s not something I like to talk about.” There it was. Perhaps the pain was too great, but she had been the alleviation to mine. If only I could be that for her too.

“I’m just trying to help you out. You’re my friend, and I’ve noticed how sometimes you get troubled when we talk about your⁠—”

“Truthfully, it’s because I feel so disturbed by everything I was put through. Like everything in my mind is unorganized, my thoughts run all day, every day. I can’t think clearly,” she explained. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

I sat down on a park bench; she sat next to me.

“I will take and cherish any thought, any piece of you. You don’t have to be afraid of speaking your truth.”

She smiled, but there was a slight downward twitch on her lips. Her brown gaze had grown shiny, and I saw the way she struggled to keep her composure.

“I’m scared that if I talk about it, I won’t stop crying.”

“Then don’t stop,” I replied, my hand resting on hers.

Instantly, her eyelids were inundated with tears.

“Before my mom left…” she began. Damn. “All she and my stepdad would do was fight. They’d fight so badly. There would always be trash, cracked windows, and broken shards everywhere. All I would hear at home would be cries and yells. Screams. Most of them were mine. I would scream in terror. I never wanted anything to happen to my mom, back then. I wanted to protect her. But I never knew that she was the one who was supposed to protect me.

“One night, I was awoken by a car speeding out of the lot. It’d been my mom driving away. I remember crying for her to come back, grabbing onto the window, begging for her to listen to me. Nonetheless, she continued driving and left me. I haven’t seen her since. I was six. Eleven years have passed and not once has she reached out. Mario—my stepdad—did things right at first. He took care of me. He hugged me whenever I missed my mom, but I think it was because he missed her too. Until he realized that she wasn’t going to come back. I know that he searched for her once, when he came back… he came back different. From that day forward, I had to grow up with my stepdad. Then… I entered my teenage years, and I felt like he would constantly observe me too much.

“He would touch my legs. He would grab me and try to lure me into his room. I had to learn to fight back. Because if I hadn’t… I know he would’ve done something to me. There was this one time, I’d gotten home, and he tried to—you know. And I had to jump over the nearest fence after butting my head on his nose.

“I’ve been living like that, fighting for my own life, since I was thirteen. After a while, I just got tired. I wanted to leave but, I didn’t have any money. I got a job and started to save up when I found out about the study abroad programs at my previous school. I love to learn, I always have. I love to challenge myself and prove my own worth. My parents didn’t value me; I might as well do it for myself.

“What kind of mother does that to her own child? Leave her to the mercy of a stranger. Of a disturbed man. I don’t know. Words will never be enough to explain the brokenness I carry inside of my heart.”

I couldn’t say anything. I’d been astounded by how much she’d suffered. She didn’t deserve to live through all of that. And I also didn’t have an answer to her inquiry, because I didn’t understand either, and asked myself the same question every day. What kind of mother abandons her child? Especially when that child is Lysandra. This girl felt so deeply, strongly, passionately. It was her mother’s loss, but what hurt me the most was that it was Lysandra’s loss too.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s a lot to take in at once.” She sniffed.

“You didn’t deserve all that,” I said softly, pushing my frames up.