The last few days have been interesting, to say the least. After that first night of staying at Liz's, the bond between us had immeasurably fortified.

After I had announced that small confession she pulled me into a tight hug, one that told me, as did the words following, that it would have been an honor to have a son such as me.

I didn't know if I completely believed her, but my inner child wept at the admission.

"Mattie," she said to me as we sat on that same porch swing. I looked from the pond, my attention was drawn to her voice and away from the swimming turtle that had been journeying its way across the expanse of the water. The sun was fading and shadows were plenty, but it was not completely dark.

"What happened to you?" She was looking at my arms. Her fingers came to trace over the cyclical scars that adorned them. Her voice was a heavy whisper, laden with fury and a deep sadness.

By the look on her face, she was as shocked that she had asked me that as I was. My eyes instantly watered and I looked down at the scars.

It was a warmer day than it had been, even with winter coming, and I had unthinkingly put on short sleeves.

"I..." My throat closed off as I tried to form words. Images of my past began throwing themselves full throttle into my limbic system, sliding through my temporal lobe like a water slide at a theme park.

I had never before spoken of my past to anyone. Beyond anyone ever caring enough to ask, I had never felt strong enough to volunteer the disclosure. Did anyone really care? My mind argued no, and my logic did not rebut, because if no one implored, no one cared. Right?

And now here it was that someone did care enough to ask.

"They hated me," I answered simply, unpretentiously unable to say anymore. I felt threatening tears fall, like clouds that dexterously could not hold any more rain.

"Your parents?" she asked softly.

"They always told me so. They...they..." Everything in my mind was screaming at me to run. Run from her questions. Run from the memories. I don't remember running away from her. I don't remember bolting up from the swing and running down the porch steps.

I vaguely remember hearing Mykel shout my name, worry filling his tone.

"What did you say to him?" I heard Mykel ask before I heard his resounding footsteps gaining abaft.

"Mattie, stop!" he cried from behind me.

I kept going, ignoring his pleas, trying to outrun the chimera of my past.

"Mattie, stop! Please, stop!" Mykel called from behind. I did not know how he had not caught me yet. His legs are so much longer than mine.

The sky was growing darker by the moment, visibility was low, to say the least. I didn't notice I was too close to the water before I was sliding in the surrounding muddy bank, and falling into it.

The water was cold, shocking the breath from my lungs. The panic fulminated throughout my entire being, multiplied by the panic I was already submerged within.

I hated the water. Even now I have trouble with it, but with the everlasting patience of Mykel, I'm beginning to overcome this particular fear.

In an instant I was transported back, dragged through the wormhole of my past, clawing at ethereal walls to stay in the now.

I heard them laughing at me, muddled as it was under the water. I fought to bring my head up but everything was becoming so heavy. My fights began to lessen, my body deprived of oxygen and becoming weaker. I see his fist hover above the water before plunging down into my diaphragm. Water flooded my lungs and I knew this was the way I was going to die. I was terrified, but I welcomed it. If only to make this stop. It would be another eight years before I made my escape.

I felt something solid latch onto me and drag me bodily out of the water. I clung to it only to realize I was not eight years old anymore and Mykel was pulling me from the water. I coughed and sputtered, water spewing from my mouth and lungs at an alarming rate.

I collapsed on to Mykel, shivering, desperate to feel safe from the memories that still haunted me. He wrapped his arms around me, grounding me to him and I began to calm. I was unaware of anything, even the cold, while his arms were folded against me.

An hour later I was sitting on the couch in a fresh pair of clothes. Liz had convinced me to stay with them for a while, unconvinced that she should leave me alone. I didn't put up much of a fight, and they took me to my place to grab some clothes for my stay.

I had the blanket wrapped around me that Mykel and I had curled under together that first night.

I heard Mykel and Liz speaking almost heatedly toward one another, no doubt about what had caused the latest string of events. I did not want them fighting over me. I stood slowly, the blanket falling victim to gravity and sliding back onto the couch.

I walked into the kitchen where they stood. Mykel was leaning against the island, his back to the entrance, Liz leaning against the counter that held the sink. She was visibly upset. Her cheeks puffy, her eyes reddened and sad.

When Mykel brought me in from the pond, carrying me as I had refused to relinquish the hold I had of him, Liz never left my side. She turned on the shower to warm as Mykel stepped inside and let the thermal liquid raise our body temperatures.

I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her, which she returned with alacrity.

My chest burned from my earlier exploits in the pond and with the memories of my parents making a game of killing me.

"I'm sorry, honey," she whispered gently as she lightly kissed my cheek.

"Don't be. You're not the reason I'm so broken."

Her arms tightened around me as I spoke those words and I could feel her heart breaking against my chest.

"Baby, you're not broken," she countered in a voice so motherly that I wanted to cry.

"Yes, I am. They broke me. They broke me before I knew...I've never been anything but alone and broken."

My voice cracked and I felt myself get weaker, my legs giving out from under me as I felt a storm brewing internally.

I felt a larger hand come to rest between my shoulder blades, just above where Liz's arms wound around me.

"You're not alone anymore, Mattie." I took several deep breaths to will the tears away.

"I don't wanna be alone anymore." And I didn't. I had been drowning my whole life; slowly asphyxiating in the wide open air.

My throat clenched at the confession, the storm ever waging, ever coming close to breaking me down. Splintering my resolve when it finally did spew forth.

"Why did they have to hate me? I didn't mean to be so much trouble to make them hate me so much." With every syllable I spoke, I felt the clouds slowly ripping at the seams.

I stepped back away from Liz, her arms falling limply to her sides. I covered my face with my hands wanting simultaneously to disappear from myself and be held until the pain finally left me.

I felt my weakness leak unabashedly from my eyes, trickling down my arms as I stood in Liz's kitchen.

I took a deep, shuttering breath as it all began to become too much. I felt my shoulders begin to shake and my legs gave out. I waited to unceremoniously crumple into a heap onto the tiled floor but found myself being lifted into the air instead.

I latched onto him, much like I had when he pulled me from the water. I was aware of every stimulant around me. The feel of my arms around his neck, his scent, my heartbeat hammering behind my ribs, his heartbeat, slow and steady.

He carried me bridal-style back to the living room where he sat, never once letting me go, on the couch I had earlier vacated with me sitting over his lap.

I curled up as small as I could against him, his arms enveloping me to a place of safety that I would return to over and over and over again.

Liz sat next to us, her legs curling up on the couch underneath her, as she leaned bodily into Mykel's legs. Her fingers found my hair and began raking gently through it.

"You don't have to be so strong, Mattie," Mykel whispered to me, his lips so close to my skin I felt them moving as he spoke.

I nodded my head in argument, my grip becoming tighter against him. I did need to be strong. With as scared and disgusting as I felt I was...I had shown them how far my weakness extended. I couldn't break. It was always worse when I cried.

"Why did they hate me so much?" I heard myself ask. I buried my face further into Mykel's chest and felt his arms tighten around me. Small, rippling quakes coursed throughout my body and I felt Liz kiss the back of my shoulder.

"I don't know, Mattie," Mykel answered, "but they are fools."

"How do you know? Maybe they weren't so wrong. I'm just useless. I'm a waste. That's why they locked me away. That's why they hated me. No one wants me. No one's ever wanted me. My own mother..." I looked up at him then, my eyes shining with desolate heartbreak. "Do you know what she used to tell me?"

He shook his head 'no' and padded away my tears. His touch was so gentle it felt wrong. I didn't feel worth the comfort I was receiving from either of them.

"She used to tell me that the only thing I was worth was to take her stresses out on. Th-that I wasn't even worth the trouble of an abortion...that it was better for me to suffer." My forehead fell against his chest. "I was just a little boy. S-sometimes my sister would sneak me food when they would leave. Why didn't they hate her as much as me? Why didn't they love me as much as her?" A sob finally escaped me. "I didn't understand. I don't understand. Why doesn't anyone love me?" I couldn't speak anymore as wracking lamentations poured like spilled water from my eyes.

I felt Liz move closer behind me, both of us lying across Mykel's legs. She wrapped her arm around me and pulled me against her chest. She kissed behind my ear and whispered something that I had waited so long to hear that when I heard it, my tears renewed afresh.

"I love you, Mattie."

I knew she did not mean romantically, but that mattered not. Someone loved me. She continued whispering in my ear despite the tears that followed.

"You're an amazing person, Mattie. You're wonderful and sweet and loving. I can rely on you more than most. You're not useless, Mattie.

"Sweetie, whatever happened to you wasn't your fault. They're sick people and you got caught in a terrible situation of which you had no control." She kissed behind my ear again. "I love you, sweetie. You're not alone anymore."

I do not know how long I lay curled up like that, crying in their arms, but I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke I was being placed in the bed I had been tenanting the last few days. I tensed up in his arms, reaffirming my hold of him. He straightened and sat with me in his lap.

He kissed the top of my head. "What is it, mon bonheur?"

I smiled slightly. I didn't know what he'd said, but the way he said it...it...how do I articulate it properly...? It made me feel like I might matter. My heart fluttered as his lips contacted against my temple.

"Don't leave me. Please. Please, don't leave me." The desperation I felt at that moment transcended into my tone, and I felt it rolling off of me in waves. Mykel felt it, too.

"Come on, then. It's late." He patted my side where his hand rested and I crawled off of him onto the cold bed. I felt the loss of his heat instantly and I felt my heart sink and lurch at the same time at the thought of him leaving me alone.

I felt my cheeks redden as he crawled under the covers and opened his arms to me. I nestled myself against him, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

I felt my body relax when his fingers threaded through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp.

"Sleep, mon bonheur," he whispered and as I drifted off to sleep I thought I heard him say something else. I was not sure, but it sounded like-

I'll never leave you, mon bonheur. My arms were made to hold you.

The feeling of weightlessness as I fell asleep in his arms trickled away and another feeling replaced it. One I was still all too familiar with.

The anxiety that fills me, even now, when it comes to bathtubs, and getting in them, is almost crippling. Over the past several years since Mykel entered my life, he's taught me to handle a shower without my breaking down completely.

I sat in my dungeon, curled with my legs to my chest, trying not to let them hear me cry. My six-year-old self cramped into the tiny closet that would remain my "room" until I ran away at sixteen.

My head rested in my arms, my hands clutching my skinny legs. Then I heard them. The footsteps. Heavy and hard and comminatory. I begin to shiver, trepidity brimming over my eyes.

The rickety door swung open and I shrank away from the monster that towered above me. Her hand reached down and grabbed me by my hair. I waited silently, as I knew more noise would only make things worse. She brought her face close to mine, her breath retched and heavy with alcohol and something else.

"What do I have to do to you to keep you fucking quiet, you little cock sucker." She slapped me then, my body being force-slammed into the wall. I had not the time to regain my senses before she grabbed me by the hair again and dragged me toward the bathroom. I knew what was coming. As we rounded the corner I could hear the tub filling with water. My fights increased as I became frantic, screaming from pure consternation.

Somewhere from behind me, I heard my sister exit her room. She fought with our mother to let me go, hitting her arms and anywhere she could to get her to release me.

Our father came out of the bathroom then, fury written across his face at the defiance my sister was displaying. Defiance I was displaying.

He grabbed my sister and threw her with one swift action. I could hear the sounds of her screaming as she took her medicine, then I was in the bathroom. She pulled me upward before punching me in the stomach; as I doubled over she threw me into the tub.

She held me down by my chest and hair and I fought as I felt myself begin to die again. This was her favorite thing to do to me. To drown me. Forcefully I was pulled from the water only to be shoved back down. The air I'd managed to gasp into my lungs with the water made a quick exodus as she slammed my head into the porcelain tub.

My whole world began to spin, to fade. Before I lost consciousness completely she pulled me out. I hit the floor in an unceremonious heap of flesh and bone.

Twice she punched me in the face, connecting each time with my right cheekbone before leaving my body on the floor, pooled in the freezing water from the bathtub.

I awoke in a panic, frantically fighting, trying so hard to hold on to life. I heard my name being called, but through the fog of the nightmare and remembered terror, it did not register that it was Mykel's voice I heard.

Waking was a blur, the next thing I remembered was being pinned against something warm and solid. The fight left me, as it had so many times before that moment, resignation consuming me. It was some time before Mykel's voice broke the effluvium of my past.

"Its just me, Mattie. It's me, it's alright. You're safe now, mon bonheur. You're safe."

I wrapped my arms around his that circled my body. He continued speaking to me, calming me, holding me. He pulled me down supine and curled me around him, holding, embracing, soothing.

He held me close, whispering words of comfort and I held onto him like he was keeping me afloat.

"I don't like water," I said suddenly, my mind still flashing scenes of my childhood.

He was silent for a moment, his fingers tracing over my skin. "I noticed that."

I had almost forgotten my spill into the pond, so caught up as I was. I shrank away, or began to before his arms tightened around me ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry," I said, my eyes filling. I turned my head into him so he would not bear witness.

He pulled me closer, not allowing me to retreat and hide from him.

"For what, Mattie?" he asked me, his voice gentle and reassuring.

"I shouldn't have run like that. I knew the pond was there. I know I can't swim. I know I'm terrified of water."

He kissed my forehead. "Mon bonheur," he whispered to me, "we're all running from something. I won't let the water drown you."

My weakness came back, pouring forth like a title wave, the cotton of his shirt soaking the evidence within the fabric as he held me.

"I'm scared of drowning. Of...of being drowned." I paused, my face still unexposed, hidden in the expanse of his broad chest. He lay on his side, his arms supporting me as I began to shake even harder. "They...they'd..." I could not say it. I had never said it aloud before.

"Take your time, Mattie. I'm not going anywhere," he told me.

"They would f-fill the tub with water...so, so cold...and h-hold-hold-hold me down under it. It was my punishment for crying too loudly. For...breathing...they would hold me under until I almost passed out...then they'd let me breathe before shoving me back under again. It was their favorite thing to do to me."

"Jesus Christ," I heard him whisper before he tightened his grip on me. "You're safe now, Mattie. I swear, I won't ever let anyone hurt you again."

His words made me almost smile. I wanted so badly to believe him.

When next I awoke, I woke alone. A glance at the bedside clock said it was seven AM. I felt over to the other side of the bed, it still held the slightest bit of Mykel's body heat.

I smiled. He stayed with me. He...didn't leave me.

Mykel then materialized into the room, sneakily quiet as if an attempt to not rouse me.

He turned, paused in seeing me watching him, and smiled slowly. His smile did not attenuate as he slid back into bed next to me.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. My mind must have realized I was supposed to be awake already," I said sheepishly, pointing at the clock.

His smile, always his smile...to this day his smile melts away my fears. I digress...

He lightly poked my nose and got out of bed. His face changed then, more serious, cautious even, and he reached out his hand to me. I frowned, nervous, suddenly feeling cautious myself with the abrupt shift in the atmosphere.

I took his hand, my heart pounding, everything telling me to Run! Run! Run! but I could do no more than look in his eyes.

"Liz gave you a few days off," he said looking at me. I could not read his expression and that did not alleviate the patulous anxiety spreading within me.

"Mattie, if...I've been thinking a lot about what you said last night. About you being afraid of water and..." He paused and looked at me, his smile now wavering and unsure. Where was he going with this? I did not want to be anywhere near water. My hand tightened in his, and he brought his free hand to cover mine. "If I ask something of you, will you do it?" My eyes filled with water...that dreaded substance...and I looked away. "Mattie..." He waited but when I did not look to him he continued speaking anyway, "you must know," he began, "I would never do you harm. And that I want to help you."

"What do you want me to do?" I heard myself whisper in return. When my eyes cleared I found my gaze was directed at our linked digits. My knuckles were white with tension. It reflected the state of my whole being.

The request sucker punched me in the balls; apparently, I was not as prepared as I had originally assumed myself to be.

"Take a shower with me. We both have pond muck all over us. I mean, I put us under warm water to get our body temperatures up, but you were pretty out of it.

"Hey." He drew my face toward him. "I won't hurt you. I won't let you get hurt."

I could not speak but closed my eyes in silent consent. Slowly he turned me around, facing the adjoining bathroom. I felt him behind me, so close. His skin was up against the layered cotton shirt I had on. We stood still. I jumped slightly as I felt his arms wrap around me. Hugging me, he gently rocked as he began to sing softly against my cheek.

Rise up this morning
Sit with the rising sun
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singing sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true
Singing this is my message to you
Singing don't worry about a thing
Cause every little thing
Is gonna be alright

By the time he stopped singing and I consequently opened my eyes, I reflexively stepped back. We were in the bathroom.

The room itself did not give me as many problems entering when I was going to brush my teeth, but if that little boy within knew the destination was the tub and not the sink, he instantly collapsed into hysterics.

"Mattie." I blinked and Mykel was standing in front of me. "Look at me. There you go." He smiled. "Hi, mon bonheur. It's just a room. The room didn't hurt you. The people that did aren't here. See?"

I glanced around knowing he was wrong. They lurked behind every wall. Behind every door.

It remained the two of us.

"See?" He asked again and I nodded. He smiled.

"Can I turn on the water?" he asked then.

My hand clenched around his and my breath caught. I already felt like I was under water.

He hadn't made a move toward the tub, his hand still trapped completely in mine. His touch gave me peace, a spark of hope among the chaos. For so many years I wondered why I had to suffer through it.

It never occurred to me to try and kill myself. Not out of some religious sense, I was brought up as nothing. I had nothing. I was nothing. I always just assumed someone else would do it for me.

"Mykel," I heard myself say in a breathy pant.

"Trust me. I won't let anything happen. You're not restricted or restrained. I'm not forcing you. Any time you can walk away."

In a way he was right. In a way he was wrong. I was rooted to the spot. My eyes were drawn to the tap and I couldn't breathe.

"Mattie," Mykel stepped into my sights, "look at me." I did.

He began again to sing and I felt calm as my eyes never broke contact with his.

Rise up this morning
Sit with the rising sun
The little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singing sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true
Singing this is my message to you
Sing don't worry about a thing
Cause every little thing
Is gonna be alright

He kept singing as he turned on the water and slowly began to undress me. There was nothing sexual in his actions. His touches were soft and kind, his movements tempered with the rhythm of the song.

My parents never bothered undressing me, nor giving me the opportunity to undress. They just threw me in and held me down. Afterward leaving me cold in my wet clothes to air dry in my hole.

He paid no mind to the connect the dots pattern of cigarette and cigar burns. Soon we were both naked and he was standing behind me. He ran his hands smoothly down my arms before wrapping them around me.

I could see the gentle wafting of steam coming from the water. With one hand in his, he extended our arms out so that they were under the stream coming from the shower head above us. The water was magically warm.

He kept singing into my ear. Every little thing is gonna be alright. Its gonna be alright now.

My ever dreaded weakness rolled down my cheeks. I did not stop nor wipe them away. Mykel acted as if they were not even present to begin with.

Every little thing is gonna be alright.
Woke up this morning
Sit with the rising sun
Three little birds pitched by my doorstep singing sweet songs

I let my mind take me to a different place. Where three little birds pitched by my doorstep. His voice calming me as we entered the shower. Once our feet were firmly inside the contraption and the curtain drawn I turned into his arms, holding onto him like I had when he hauled me from under the pond's surface.

My despairing grew more intense then, my arms wrapped around him in a vice-like grip. He kept an equal hold around me, secure, safe. We stayed still, the water spraying at my feet, reaching halfway up my calves.

"I'm scared," I told him, my voice little more than a fearful squeak.

"Trust me, mon bonheur. I won't let you go under."

We stepped once, twice, three times and we were under the spray. My grip on him was bruising; I would apologize for the marks two days later.

Without completely letting me go, he gathered body wash on a lufa and stepped out of the stream. Slowly he began to wash my skin. He scrubbed just hard enough that it felt like a massage and I felt the heat from the water and steam begin to loosen the knots that had always been.

He washed me completely, then himself, then we walked back under the stream.

"Alright, mon bonheur, this is the hardest part." He smiled at me encouragingly, then, as if on impulse, gently kissed me. To say I was caught off guard would be an understatement, but I did not pull away from his affections. When he pulled back again he smiled.

"But you're doing great. We need to wash your hair." My face must have contorted into a horrid display of fright because he quickly continued, "Listen, Mattie, we don't have to get your face wet." He skirted around me until he was at my back.

"What I want you to do is slightly tilt your head backward. You'll feel the water and know it isn't going into your mouth and nose. Just along here." He traced my hairline with his fingertip. A drop of water from his hand rolled down my cheek, mingling with the tears that still flowed.

I tipped my head back. Breath was hard to come by and I was so damned scared, but I felt Mykel's presence behind me, touching and guiding my head so it doesn't tip too much.

I felt his fingers run through my hair to get it wet. My hair is thick and curly to boot, which did not help get my hair wet any quicker.

"Alright, up." I straightened. I heard him pour some shampoo into the palm of his hand before he began lathering my hair. His fingers felt magical against my scalp, massaging and rubbing as he cleaned my hair. I felt like putty as his expert fingers roamed me.

"Alright." My eyes jerked open at his words. I had no idea they had even closed. The relaxation took me by surprise.

"Now I want you to do the exact same thing you did before so I can rise your hair. Okay?"

I did as he instructed. When my hair was rinsed he made short order of washing and rinsing his. I watched him go under the spray with ease, the water cascading over his face like it was nothing.

I admit now that as I stood there watching him...I was, and still am at times, jealous of how easy it is for people to just...take a simple shower.

When the water was shut off he reached just outside the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. He began delicately to dry me, my hair, my body, before wrapping it around my waist. When he was dried and his towel wrapped around him, we stepped out of the tub.

He stepped first, turning and offering me his hand, lest I slip. We stood in the steamy bathroom, the mirror fogged so badly it looked like a solid piece of etched glass.

He smiled, slow and easy and beautiful. "You did it," he exclaimed, his face showing excitement at the seeming success.

I smiled at his enthusiasm, I had done it. Before that first shower with him, the bathing rituals of modern humans was a chore that sent me spiraling in an obsidian of flashbacks and heavy anxiety that often lead to full out manic attacks that left me paralyzed and unable to move.

He kissed me again, slow and sensual. When he pulled away I was left stunned. I blinked to clear my senses. No one had ever kissed me before him.

Before Rockford, in my other life, I never let any of the men kiss me. Not on the lips. They paid for my body, not my lips. It was the one part of me I had never shared with anyone before him.

When my focus was once again on his eyes, they were bright. His face was alight. He was smiling that smile.

"I'm proud of you, Mattie. You did really well."

My heart stopped. What did he say? Not what I thought I had heard, surely.

"What did you say?" But deep down I already knew. My eyes misted as he repeated those four words again.

I threw myself at him, my lips meeting his with fire behind them as hot tears spilled down, dripping down his chin as we explored each other in a kiss of many colors.