Chapter Thirty-One
Jace
When I got back home, I realized that my sleep time was over. I got back in bed, but my mind was racing.
I couldn’t help but wonder what it meant that Daphne was the only reason I’ve ever found in my life to be violent. I would have killed that man to keep him from hurting her. That should have frightened the hell out of me, but instead, it gave me a weird sense of peace inside knowing that I finally found someone outside of my grandmother and my brothers that I truly felt like I belonged with.
I’d had a really hard time with that my entire life, feeling out of place. In school, I never fit in with any specific groups. I was always on the fringes of everything. The only thing that gave me any semblance of peace at all was the church and that was why I chose to be a priest.
I thought that I felt that way because it was my calling. Now, I was not so sure, and what terrified me most is that changing my mind so late in life might ruin any peace I’d had in my heart all along.
I tried to make myself stop thinking about it. I couldn’t fix it that night…if at all. I finally dropped that train of thought; however, Daphne was still prominently on my mind.
I wondered about her mother. Was she there when her father was hurting her? I tell people who I counsel through the church to “put it in God’s hands.”
Daphne is a devout Catholic. Was her mother as well? Was that what Daphne was seeking through the church…help from God with a life that had to be pure torture? What about her siblings? Did she have siblings? Did her father abuse them as well?
One thing I struggled hard with before taking my vows was giving up the chance to have children someday. I loved kids, and I would have loved to have my own had I chosen a different path in life. I couldn't even wrap my head around wanting to harm any child, much less your own.
It made my stomach feel sick to think about what she must have been through. The terror in her eyes gave it away, and although I didn't know the circumstances, all it took was a look at her face tonight to know it was torture.
That thought made me angry again and that anger made me remember what I did. I knew that I should pray for forgiveness, but I didn't want to be a hypocrite. I’m not sorry for beating that man down — and I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.
I wanted to spend more time with Daphne. I wanted to get her to open up to me and tell me exactly what she’d been through. I knew she didn’t believe it, but it would probably help her so much to talk about it.
I wondered if anyone knew, or if she’s spent her life in silence. That made me even sadder, because when that happens, it’s like you’re completely alone in the world at it hurts that much more.
I wanted to help her and I wanted her to know that as long as I’m nearby, she’ll never be alone.
My life and my brothers’ lives were unbearable before we went to live with Grandma. At the time, child services wanted to put us in counseling. Max and I wanted no part of it, so Grandma didn’t make us go. I never talked about what had happened to us with her, either, but she knew, so sometimes we’d just sit in silence and the two of us would remember together. It was like talking about it with our hearts.
That night, when I looked into Daphne’s eyes and I saw all the pain over her father, I also saw all the feelings that she was having for me. I felt like we were talking to each other with our hearts the way that Grandma and I used to do.
I closed my eyes and said a prayer for her…and then I said one for me…and then I said one for us both and I asked God to give me some kind of sign that it wasn’t wrong to feel the way I did about her because if this feeling I had was wrong, I was not sure I ever wanted to be right again.