Page 147 of Torn
And it’s all my fault. I did this.
“I’m not too young. You and Mom were younger than me when you fell in love and look how long you lasted. So don’t you dare say that to me. I’m not a little girl, and I’m not stupid. I know exactly what and who I want.”
He grimaces and rubs the center of his chest again. “I’m going to be sick. He’s got your head all fuckin’ twisted up.”
“No, he doesn’t. I love him. You know he’s a good man, Dad. Calm down and think, please. He’s your best friend. You know what kind of man he is. He would never hurt me, and this hasbeen tearing him apart. He didn’t want it to happen. You have to believe me.”
“Then it never should have fuckin’ happened!” he shouts. “He’s an adult. He knows better. He should have some fuckin’ self-control.” He glares at the standing framed photo of Tor and me on my dresser, taken when we were younger, and slams it down onto its glass face. “I trusted him with you, Kenzi,” he says, coming back to stand in front of me, his eyes wild and his jaw clenched. “I trusted him with my baby girl andthisis what he does?”
“He never wanted to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” he spits out. “He’s fuckingdestroyedme, Kenzi. And so have you.”
I swallow back more tears as my heart cracks. “Please don’t say that, Daddy. I love you. Tor loves you. We never meant for this to happen.”
“When?” he asks, snapping his head to look at me. “When did this happen?”
It’s always been happening.I take a deep breath and try to think back.
“A few months ago. A few weeks before I graduated, I think.” My God, it seems like so long ago when it all started.
“He touched you when you were under eighteen?” he asks, his voice oddly leveled.
“He kissed me but that was it. Nothing else happened until I was eighteen. The age of consent is sixteen. He didn’t do anything wrong. We waited until I was eighteen.” I know none of what I’m saying changes anything at all. It will always be wrong to everyone around us.
His eyes close and his head hangs down. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Please stop saying that.Please.”
“He betrayed me, Kenzi. You don’t screw with your best friend’s daughter who’s a teenager and has been through the trauma of losing her mother when you’re supposed to be looking after her. It’s wrong no matter how you want to slice and dice it in your own head.”
I suck in a deep breath. “He’s the one who was there for me the most, Dad. Everyone else was all wrapped up in their own grief or life. Including you,” I remind him. “Tor was with meall the time. He’s been taking care of me forever, so don’t stand there and act like he’s some kind of pig because you know damn well he’s not. You turned him into a live-in nanny for God’s sake! He took care of all of us when we needed him.” My voice rises with each word and my body starts to tremble with a mix of anger, fear, and devastation. I take another deep breath and lower my voice before I continue. “Maybe you need to remember all that.” I swipe the tears from my face as I attempt to defend the man who somehow became the glue in my life.
He slams his fist down on the top of my dresser. “That’s right, Kenzi. He was supposed to be taking care of you, not turning you into his own little fuck toy behind my back.”
Before I can stop myself, I’ve slapped him hard across the face. He touches his cheek and looks at me like he has no idea who I am.
That makes two of us. I don’t know who I am right now, either.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper shakily. “But I amnota fuck toy. I know you’re mad and upset, but I won’t let you disrespect me. Or him. Or what we have.”
As my words sink in, he nods slowly and softly says, “I just love you so much, Kenzi. This is killing me.”
“I know that, and I’m sorry. But that’s no excuse for you to say nasty things.”
He sits on my bed and puts his head in his hands. His body shakes with silent sobs. My heart slowly dies watching him in emotional agony, knowing this is my fault.
“You’re right.” He lifts his head. “I didn’t mean what I said, sweetheart. My mind is just completely wacked right now.”
Seeing him so gutted is terrible. I just want this all to stop before it gets worse. “I think we should just go to bed and talk about this in the morning, Dad. When we’re calmer.”
“I can’t do that. He’s going to tell me to my face what he’s done. Tonight.”
My breath catches. “You’re going over there? Now?” I ask, worry washing over me in a tidal wave.
“Yes. He and I are going to have a nice long talk,” he answers sarcastically.
I hang on to his arm and try to stop him from heading toward the door. “Dad, please. He’s still recovering from the accident. Please don’t touch him,” I beg, sobbing uncontrollably. “If you hurt him, I’ll never forgive you. I swear to you, I won’t.” I plead with my eyes and cling to the sleeve of his shirt.