The Ties That Bind Us: (The Ties Duet Part One) by Danda K. (best books to read for knowledge txt) 📗

Cameron looks over at me, and everything else is a blur. The ride comes to a stop, and I jump out of my seat. She’s stopped so high up that I’m looking up at her for once.

I need to touch her.

She looks down at me and smiles, relief pouring out of her. I grab her under her arms and guide her down. She’s facing me when her feet touch the bottom, and I have her wedged right in between the butterfly and me.

I twirl a piece of her hair in my fingers as she continues to look up at me, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I press into her more, daring her.

Kiss me, Nyx, please. Put me out of my misery.

“Uhh, you guys gotta get off the ride now to make room for the next group.” A short bald guy, who seems to be questioning if I’m a predator, interrupts our trance, and I want to strangle him. He stares between us uncomfortably, so Cameron smiles at him and steps out of our cocoon.

Walking down the steps of the carousel, the mood has officially passed. I figure we can sit on one of the benches facing the river and talk. Walking us over to a small stand, I grab each of us a coffee. I hand Cam a cup, and we continue to stroll along the pier.

“So, tell me something about you, Nyx.” I blow into the cup to cool the liquid.

“What do you wanna know?” she asks, looking straight ahead.

I tell her the most honest answer I’ll ever give another person.

“Everything.”

Sixteen

Cameron

Everything.

There’s so much I could tell him.

“Can we maybe sit for a bit?” Because there’s no way I can multitask having this conversation. He nods in agreement, and we walk over to a bench and sit down. I cross my legs and face him. I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna open up to him. When someone tries this hard to know who you are, they deserve the reward in return.

“I don’t have a relationship with either of my parents. They both despise me.” I start off, easing him in. He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. “My mother was in and out of my life for as long as I can remember. When she was around, she barely acknowledged me. She’s been gone for two years now.” I pause, taking a much-needed breath for what comes next. ”And my father is an abusive drunk.” Jaxon tenses up immediately, his jaw tightening. I inhale another shaky breath, feeling my anxiety surfacing.

He cracks his neck, and then, with clear insinuation, he asks, “Abusive how?”

I shake my head. “Not like that, not him anyway.”

He stays quiet as I continue. “His friends used to come over, they were drunks like him, and some of them would grope me, but it never got further than that.” I look down at the pavement, and he lifts my chin, urging me to continue. “My mother never stepped in to protect me. She left me to be victimized by him for the majority of my childhood and into my adolescent years.”

I take a sip of my coffee, and he asks, “In what ways did he abuse you?” I hear the tightness in his voice, and I contemplate stopping, afraid to ruin the night, but I don’t.

“Oh, you know, regular beatings, degrading words, threats, and starvation sometimes.” I’m all too aware of how natural this sounds coming out of my mouth, and I can tell Jaxon is holding back his emotions.

“I also fell victim to high school bullying because of my appearance. But that never really got to me like my father did.” I rub out the tension in my neck. “I never left my house unless necessary. I worked from home and even attended online courses for Business Management. I kinda walked outta my house during my shift with U-Haul the night you saw me in your store.” Jaxon nods his head in understanding, his body stiff as if this history lesson was his own.

But I feel nothing about what I said; not a single tear has spilled for my father since I was six years old.

“I do have one good memory from my house, though.” I try to soften the mood because it looks like he may combust.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his lips tight in a straight line.

I feel guilty about the night taking such a turn, but he interrupts me before I can answer. “Let me just say this.” Jaxon adjusts himself on the bench to face me better. “You just described several ways your father’s toxic and abusive, but you only referred to yourself as a victim.” He pauses and scoots closer to me, squeezing my knee. “You’re not just a victim, Nyx. You’re a survivor.” He cups my cheek with his hand. “And what you’ve been through would have broken most people. Hell, unfortunately, it has. But it didn’t break you.” Removing his hand from my face, he continues, “You’re here now, and yeah, it may have taken you a while. It took me a while, too.” He leans his back against the bench and shrugs. “We’re not broken, Cam. We’re just bent differently than most people.”

I absorb Jaxon’s words, storing them so maybe one day I can convince myself he’s right. Turning the tables on him, I ask, “So, what’s your story?”

He blows out a long breath and begins, “I was abandoned in front of a supermarket at only a few days old. I went into the system and learned the hard way that it’s a broken one. Most of my foster parents were selfish and just looking for a monthly check.” He stares off into the water. “I switched homes constantly, and when I finally graduated high school, I decided to leave and be on my own. I lived on the street for years and picked up street fighting to make money. I continued to live