she blurted, “They also learned that while my mother’s latest boyfriend wasn’t beating me, he was sexually molesting me.” Ildaria lifted her chin defiantly as she said that, her teeth grinding together as she waited for his response.
G.G. breathed out as if he’d been afraid this was coming, but was still disappointed that it had. His expression compassionate, he said gently, “I’m sorry.”
That was all, no gasping horror, no outrage and vows of vengeance or justice. But it had more effect than those other things would have. Ildaria’s mouth wobbled with the bottled-up emotion that wanted to escape, and then firmed again. It had happened two hundred years ago. She didn’t even remember it. She’d be damned if she was going to get all emotional now.
Clearing her throat, she nodded in acknowledgment of his words, and then said, “My abuela was apparently very upset to learn this, so Señorita Ana very kindly suggested she take me home, telling her not to worry about my mother or her boyfriend. She would send men to take care of the boyfriend, as well as to fetch my mother back to my abuela’s along with a doctor to see to both she and myself.”
Ildaria paused to take a sip of her cocoa. She didn’t usually talk this much and her mouth was growing dry. The hot chocolate didn’t really help much, but it was still warm and tasted good, so she took another sip before continuing. “When my abuela took me home, my mother and her boyfriend were there waiting. My mother was apparently a mess, but insisted she was well enough to look after me, and wanted to take me home. But the way she kept a wary eye on her boyfriend and flinched whenever he moved made my abuela suspect it was he who wanted me back and not to look after me. She had no intention of letting me be taken back to be abused, so sent me to my room and then told my mother about the abuse.”
Ildaria grimaced. “As you can imagine, that didn’t go over well. The boyfriend at first tried to deny he was abusing me, but my mother came to my room and asked me about it. I don’t remember it, don’t know what I said, but apparently it was enough that she went storming back out.” Ildaria blew out a breath and shook her head. “All hell broke out then. I gather my mother grabbed a knife and went after her boyfriend. He got the knife away and used it on her, and then went after my abuela when she tried to help my mother. I have no doubt he would have killed them both, and maybe even me. Fortunately, Señorita Ana had sent men to deal with the boyfriend as promised. When they arrived at his shack to learn he and my mother had come to get me, they followed and arrived in time to save my abuela. Unfortunately, my mother wasn’t as lucky. She died in hospital several days later from her wounds.”
Ildaria stopped to sip at her cocoa again, hardly hearing his murmured condolences. Talking about it brought back the dark feelings that always accompanied discussing this subject. Were she to analyze those feelings, Ildaria would probably have to say they were a combination of shame and anger, but she didn’t bother analyzing them. It was her past. Best forgotten, as her abuela used to say.
She did feel sad, though, that she never felt much loss when she thought about the death of her mother. But she’d been too young to have much in the way of memories of her. To Ildaria, she was just a photo that her abuela used to show her. Just as the fact that she had been abused was just a story she’d been told. She didn’t recall much of either.
Even so, Ildaria knew it affected her to this day. She suspected it was why she’d never been interested in sexual intimacy, and the reason she had so little experience with the opposite sex. Sexual situations brought those dark feelings rising within her and morphed into all-out rage. Or they had before G.G. She hadn’t had any of those feelings with him, not in their shared dreams anyway. He’d never so much as touched her in passing when they were awake, though. She had no idea how she’d react if he touched or tried to kiss her . . . which was rather concerning now that she