Thank you. This part of the story, what George did to Margaret and Nathan touched that personal struggle for my mother, siblings and me to recover from what we'd been through. There were few tears when he passed away. There was numbness fallowed by a sense of relief.
When I wrote George, when I wrote what he did to Nathan and Margaret, I wrote it because I believed these stories needed to be told. But it's one thing to believe that as a writer. It's another thing entirely to have someone like you stand in front of me and say: this was my life.
Numbness followed by relief. Few tears. That hit me harder than you probably intended it to. Because that's the truth no one talks about. The world expects you to grieve when a parent dies. But what do you do when the person who was supposed to protect you was the one you needed protection from? What do you do when death brings the peace that life never did?
You don't owe anyone tears that don't come. You don't owe anyone grief that doesn't fit. What you feel is what you feel and it's valid. Every bit of it.
The fact that you, your mother, and your siblings found your way through that... that's not just survival. That's a kind of courage most people will never understand because they'll never have to.
Thank you for trusting me with your story, Steve. I carry it with me. And I promise you, as Nathan and Margaret's journey continues, I will write it with your truth in my heart.
You said you're still loving this story. I'm still writing it for readers like you. Always. 🖤
My father was mentally and physically abusive. He didn't just beat us, he verbally degraded us. I was decades finally, fully getting myself back, eliminating the ugliness which he implanted in my mind.
Mom, ten years after his death met a man who loved her, truly and treated her like every woman dreams, wants, deserves to be treated. Pops was Mom's healing.
I've seen everything which you mentioned... I'm hoping for the best, like Nathan. I'm dreading the worst, like Lucas.
I need you to know that I stopped everything I was doing to read your words. And then I read them again. And again.
Thank you for trusting me with this. What you just shared isn't a comment. It's a piece of your soul laid bare on a screen, and I don't take that lightly. Not for a second.
The fact that you spent decades getting yourself back, eliminating what he planted in your mind... that's not just survival, Steve. That's war. A quiet, invisible, daily war that no one gives medals for. But you fought it. And you're still here.
And your Mom finding her Pops, finding that man who loved her the way she always deserved... that gives me chills. Because that's what healing looks like when the universe finally gets it right.
You said you're hoping like Nathan. Dreading like Lucas. That tells me you know both sides of that coin from the inside out. You've lived in that space where hope and fear breathe the same air.
I hear you. I see you. And I promise you this: I will write Margaret's story with the same honesty and care that your story deserves. Because this is not just fiction anymore. It never was.
Steve, the fact that you used the word "dreading" tells me everything. You're not just reading this story. You're living in it.
And you're asking exactly the right question. Was Margaret a villain? Or was she another one of George's victims? A woman trapped under the same roof, under the same control, too afraid or too broken to see what was happening to her own son?
Here's what I'll tell you: people who live under someone's thumb for decades don't just walk free when the cage opens. Sometimes they run toward the light. Sometimes they run back to the darkness because it's all they know. And sometimes... sometimes they carry the darkness with them without even realizing it.
Nathan is hoping. Lucas is preparing for war. One of them is right.
Thank you. This part of the story, what George did to Margaret and Nathan touched that personal struggle for my mother, siblings and me to recover from what we'd been through. There were few tears when he passed away. There was numbness fallowed by a sense of relief.
So yes, this part of the story has been moving.
I'm still loving this story!👍🏻❤️💯‼️
Steve, I need you to know something.
When I wrote George, when I wrote what he did to Nathan and Margaret, I wrote it because I believed these stories needed to be told. But it's one thing to believe that as a writer. It's another thing entirely to have someone like you stand in front of me and say: this was my life.
Numbness followed by relief. Few tears. That hit me harder than you probably intended it to. Because that's the truth no one talks about. The world expects you to grieve when a parent dies. But what do you do when the person who was supposed to protect you was the one you needed protection from? What do you do when death brings the peace that life never did?
You don't owe anyone tears that don't come. You don't owe anyone grief that doesn't fit. What you feel is what you feel and it's valid. Every bit of it.
The fact that you, your mother, and your siblings found your way through that... that's not just survival. That's a kind of courage most people will never understand because they'll never have to.
Thank you for trusting me with your story, Steve. I carry it with me. And I promise you, as Nathan and Margaret's journey continues, I will write it with your truth in my heart.
You said you're still loving this story. I'm still writing it for readers like you. Always. 🖤
My father was mentally and physically abusive. He didn't just beat us, he verbally degraded us. I was decades finally, fully getting myself back, eliminating the ugliness which he implanted in my mind.
Mom, ten years after his death met a man who loved her, truly and treated her like every woman dreams, wants, deserves to be treated. Pops was Mom's healing.
I've seen everything which you mentioned... I'm hoping for the best, like Nathan. I'm dreading the worst, like Lucas.
Steve.
I need you to know that I stopped everything I was doing to read your words. And then I read them again. And again.
Thank you for trusting me with this. What you just shared isn't a comment. It's a piece of your soul laid bare on a screen, and I don't take that lightly. Not for a second.
The fact that you spent decades getting yourself back, eliminating what he planted in your mind... that's not just survival, Steve. That's war. A quiet, invisible, daily war that no one gives medals for. But you fought it. And you're still here.
And your Mom finding her Pops, finding that man who loved her the way she always deserved... that gives me chills. Because that's what healing looks like when the universe finally gets it right.
You said you're hoping like Nathan. Dreading like Lucas. That tells me you know both sides of that coin from the inside out. You've lived in that space where hope and fear breathe the same air.
I hear you. I see you. And I promise you this: I will write Margaret's story with the same honesty and care that your story deserves. Because this is not just fiction anymore. It never was.
With deep respect and gratitude, Arden 🖤
This chapter was beautifully intense!😄❤️🫂💞💯‼️💥
I'm dreading the next one. I hope that Nathan's mother has been freed from the mental control of her husband... I'm not counting on it.😕😞
Steve, the fact that you used the word "dreading" tells me everything. You're not just reading this story. You're living in it.
And you're asking exactly the right question. Was Margaret a villain? Or was she another one of George's victims? A woman trapped under the same roof, under the same control, too afraid or too broken to see what was happening to her own son?
Here's what I'll tell you: people who live under someone's thumb for decades don't just walk free when the cage opens. Sometimes they run toward the light. Sometimes they run back to the darkness because it's all they know. And sometimes... sometimes they carry the darkness with them without even realizing it.
Nathan is hoping. Lucas is preparing for war. One of them is right.
I'm not telling you which one. 🖤
👌🏻❤️💯‼️