Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“There are some things I’m not sure you ever get over,” I say.
“You mean like you shooting Ralph?”
I grimace. “Yeah, that, but I’ve got an uncle and two cousins who have been through far worse. They were trafficked, abused in the worst way.”
Jason’s eyebrows nearly fly off his head. “Oh?”
“Shit. Maybe that wasn’t my story to tell.” I rub at my forehead. “I guess Angie hasn’t told you about all the skeletons in our family’s closet.”
“Angie’s a positive person,” Jason says. “She’s told me that your family has been through a lot, and it’s not all peaches and cream. I’ve told her she can share the details with me if she wants, and she said she will one day, when she’s ready.”
“I get it.” I nod. “We were all adults by the time we even found out any of it. Except for Dale and Donny, my cousins. They actually lived it when they were kids.”
“Yeah,” Jason says. “I had a feeling trafficking had something to do with it. When I looked up your foundation and found out your mission is to fund research on mental illness and to fight human trafficking, it was pretty clear.”
“Yeah. My grandmother—well, Marjorie’s mother—struggled with mental illness her whole life. Depression, anxiety, and dissociative identity disorder. Thank goodness none of her children and grandchildren seem to have inherited it.”
“That’s not overly surprising.”
I cock my head. “You think so? I always thought there was a chance it could be inherited.”
“It can be, sure. But not always.”
“Then what causes it?”
“Sometimes it’s trauma. Something big happens—something that shakes you—and your brain rewires itself to survive it.”
“So it’s like…brain damage?”
“No. It’s adaptation. Your mind does what it has to do to keep going. It just doesn’t always know when the threat’s gone.”
“I thought it ran in families.”
“It can. There’s always a possibility for predisposition. But things like dissociative identity disorder usually need some sort of triggering event to occur. And obviously all the Steels of your generation have been raised by loving parents in safe environments. Just because someone in your family struggled doesn’t mean her children and grandchildren are doomed to the same thing.”
“That’s good to know. My siblings and cousins have all been brought up in loving homes. My grandmother… She was too, but there was definitely a traumatic event when she was a teenager.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She was gang raped by three older teens.” I clear my throat. “And one of them was my grandfather. My father’s father. So you can see why I’m glad you said it’s not always inherited.”
Jason leans against the brick wall. “Wow. Your family has been put through the wringer.”
“Yeah. So while I don’t have to worry about my grandmother’s mental illness, I still have to worry about the fact that my paternal grandfather was a psychopath.”
“Not necessarily. Psychopathy isn’t always inherited, either.”
“But isn’t it a brain thing?”
“It can be. But it can also come from extreme trauma, neglect, abuse. Sometimes the environment carves it into a person.”
I frown. “So you’re saying it can be created.”
“I’m saying not every psychopath is born that way. Some are made.”
I swallow. “That’s worse, somehow.”
“It’s complicated. The brain adapts.” He taps at his skull. “If you grow up in chaos, your mind learns to survive however it can. Empathy, connection, fear—they all get rewired.”
“Can it be reversed?”
“Not usually. But understanding where it came from matters. It always matters.”
I scratch my chin. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much about my grandfather’s childhood. Only that he and the others got involved in some cultlike group in high school. They got into some really nasty stuff. A lot of innocent people paid the price.”
“Did you ever know your grandfather?”
I shake my head. “He died when I was a toddler. In fact, he’s the reason why my birth mother’s not in my life. My grandfather paid her a hundred thousand dollars—basically bought me for my father.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Wow. Your family does have some stories.”
“This is just the tip of the iceberg, man.” I laugh darkly. “My cousins, siblings, and I only learned about this pretty recently, and I’m sure there are stories even our parents don’t know. You sure you want to marry into the Steels and Simpsons?”
He smiles. “There is no doubt in my mind. Your sister is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I had a hard time accepting that. I still feel a little twinge of guilt now and then, if I’m being honest.”
“Guilt?”
He nods slowly. “I loved Lindsay. And I adored my daughter. Still do and always will. But there came a point when I realized that I actually love Angie more than I loved Lindsay. Dealing with that fact was hard to come to grips with. The guilt weighed on me for a while, until I realized that it’s okay to just let myself be happy.”