Chapter Five
1178 Words
Gregory's POV
I tried to lighten up the tension in the room a little.
“But we turned out fine, right?”
Brielle just stared at me without responding. I cleared my throat and continued.
“I remember the first time I brought you home,” I started, my voice low and rough, the memories stirring emotions I wasn’t ready for. “You were this tiny little angel, past the stage of coos and ‘caa’s. You were talking now—or at least trying to. Two-syllable words mixed with a whole lot of gibberish baby talk. You had this way of saying things that made perfect sense to you but left me completely lost. I’d laugh, not because it was funny, but because… I didn’t know what else to do. It was this mix of emotions I couldn’t explain—like pure happiness colliding with this gnawing pain. The emptiness of those years I missed was eating me alive.”
Brielle’s eyes softened for a moment, but her walls stayed up.
“I wanted so badly for you to call me ‘dada’ just once,” I admitted, my throat tightening. “But I didn’t think it’d ever happen. You were my sweet little girl, my angel, my…” I trailed off, my voice dropping. “My beautiful pain. My sweet, beautiful… abomination.”
Brielle flinched, her eyes narrowing. “An abomination?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly, holding up my hands. “You weren’t the problem. It was how they saw you—how they saw us. That’s what they thought. It’s what they made me think, too. I hated myself for even letting their words get to me.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So they just handed me off to you like some package they didn’t want anymore?”
I hesitated. How was I supposed to explain what happened that day? “Not exactly,” I muttered. “But, yeah, they sent you off with me. Your grandpa made it clear I wasn’t welcome anymore, and he wasn’t subtle about it either.”
“What happened?” she pressed, her tone sharper now.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the memory making me tense. “I had a fight with your mom’s fiancé. I always knew a confrontation with him was coming—I just didn’t know when. I’d dreaded that day. I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to notice his features or compare myself to him. I didn’t want to see his lips because I’d imagine her kissing them. And it would drive me insane, knowing he was in the position I used to be in—her everything.”
Brielle didn’t say anything, but I could see the curiosity flickering in her eyes. She wanted me to continue.
“It started off civil enough,” I said. “‘The kid is beautiful, isn’t she?’ he asked me. I just nodded and said, ‘Yes.’
“‘Did you notice her tiny hands and feet?’ he asked next. ‘So cute, right?’
“‘Yeah,’ I replied again. I didn’t want to engage with him, Brielle. I didn’t want to be there at all. Then he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me closer.
“‘Don’t you know it’s rude not to look at the person talking to you?’ he said, his voice low and taunting.
“I froze. My knees were shaking, my palms sweaty, but I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the ground instead, feeling like a child caught doing something wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ I muttered. ‘I don’t mean to be rude.’
“‘That’s what I thought,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘You’re too ashamed. Too poor to even look me in the eye. You couldn’t afford a damn condom, and now you’ve ruined my girl’s life. You want to drag her down to your pathetic level, make her as worthless as you are?’
“I don’t know what angered me more—his words or the garlic breath that hit my face when he spat them out.”
Brielle’s lips twitched like she wanted to laugh but knew it wasn’t the time. “What did you do?”
“I turned to walk away,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. I just wanted to leave. But he grabbed me again, pulled me back.
“‘Face me,’ he demanded. ‘Talk to me like a man. Or are you only a man when it comes to screwing around? Is that the only thing you’re good for, you pitiful, cowardly loser? No wonder you came from parents as useless as yours.’
“My head shot up before I even realized what I was doing. I looked him dead in the eyes, and I swear, I was ready to kill him. My fists were clenched so tight I thought my knuckles might split open. I pulled back, ready to punch him square in the face. But I couldn’t. My arm wouldn’t move. He was stronger than me. So much stronger. And I hated it. I hated him. I hated myself.
“But then something snapped. I don’t even remember deciding to do it, but before I knew it, I’d pulled free and punched him right in the eye. He staggered back, cursing and shouting, and I knew I was done for.”
Brielle’s eyes widened. “And then what?”
“Your grandpa came storming in,” I said. “He was furious. Ordered me never to return to their house and demanded I take you with me. I didn’t even have time to prepare, Brielle. I had nothing—no plan, no support, no clue what I was going to do. Your mom tried to plead with him, but he shut her down, made her swear she wouldn’t have anything to do with us. He threatened to disown her if she didn’t comply.”
I looked at Brielle, my heart breaking at the look of hurt on her face. “That’s why I told you it wasn’t entirely her fault. She was trapped, Brielle. Just like I was.”
Brielle’s jaw tightened, her hands gripping the armrest of the chair. “She could’ve fought harder,” she muttered.
“Maybe,” I said softly. “But sometimes, fighting harder isn’t an option when you’re up against people like your grandpa. He wasn’t just a man, Brielle. He was a force. And he didn’t care who he destroyed as long as he got what he wanted.”
Silence settled between us, heavy and suffocating. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, the struggle between anger and understanding.
“What’s her name? My mom’s name?” she asked with a very low voice, while she stared into an empty space. I couldn’t imagine the pain she felt and I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about that.
“Fiona,” I responded.
“”Fiona who?”
- Writer
