I lick my dry lips, willing the memories to go away.
It’s been so long since they’ve been this vivid. I know it’s the guilt. I left him there. He took so much of the pain to try to save me. He’s the only reason I could escape, and in return, I left him behind.
Small tears leak from the corners of my eyes, wetting my lashes and landing hard on my silk nightgown. I wipe them away and then reach for the bottle of pills on my nightstand.
I know I need to see someone for this. I can’t keep taking pills just to sleep, just to keep the night terrors from surfacing, but I’m too ashamed to admit it all.
I’m too much of the coward that I was when I was a child.
I take two pills, hoping they’ll help. Last night they didn’t. Hours passed and sleep didn’t come. It only makes the mornings worse, but maybe tonight, it’ll come. I swallow the now room temperature water and set the glass down on the nightstand.
My back and shoulders hurt as I roll over again. I bunch the blanket between my knees and shift on the mattress. It’s the best money can buy, but it can’t soothe my sore body. It can’t lull me into a deep sleep that keeps the nightmares from surfacing.
Nothing can save me.
It’s a weird feeling when you know you’re about to fall asleep. Your body seems to go weightless for just a moment. My limbs turn numb and everything feels heavy. So heavy but like I’m floating, a sweet contradiction that tells me sleep is coming.
I’m conscious of it, fully aware a deep sleep within reach. And that’s when the floor creaks and my body wakes instantly, tense and stiff.
I keep my eyes closed, too afraid to open them. My heart races in my chest, and I’m too scared to move. Maybe it’s all in my head, I tell myself, but the second I do, I hear the floorboards creak again with the heavy weight of someone walking into my bedroom.
My back is to my nightstand, but I know my car alarm is there. My keys are sitting somewhere on it in the dark. I need to move, if for no reason than to make a disturbance. I suck in a breath as I roll my body over, not looking at whoever is here.
I don’t care who it is, I’ll fight them. I won’t go down easy and be a good little victim. I refuse to.
I knock the glass of water over, and it shatters on the floor. At the same time, the bed dips low with the weight of the intruder. I scream out as he grabs me, my fingers grasping at the ceramic cup that holds my keys, my earrings, my lip balm. The rim of the cup brushes along my fingertips as a rag covers my face.
I breathe in once, both of my hands reaching up toward my mouth. My fingers struggle to pry the large hand away, scratching as my muffled screams prove how useless my fight was.
His heavy leg lays over mine, pinning me down as I breathe in again.
Chloroform.
I can smell it, and it’s then that I know I’m fucked.
I struggle until I can’t.
I scream until my throat’s raw.
And when my body finally goes heavy and numb again, that weightless feeling taking over, my eyes roll back and I catch a glimpse of the man.
His eyes.
So gray. Even in the dark of night, I know it's him. The sharp lines of his handsome face are different from those I remember. My hand reaches up, my fingers brushing his rough stubble before falling without my consent.
He’s alive. I will my eyes to stay open for just a bit longer. Just to be sure he’s real.
The boy’s alive. My heart squeezes, and the realization is too much to bear. It shatters my sanity, my composure.
And then the darkness takes over in one slow wave, and all at once, I surrender myself to him.
Chapter 5
Robin
Twenty years ago
I’m so used to this room. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I don’t bother to count the days anymore. I don’t hope for Mama to come find me anymore. I know it’s useless now, and it only makes me more upset.
The only solace I have is lying beside me. I speak without thinking, just saying what’s on my mind to break up the silence in the cold room.
“I wish I were a bird.” I blink at the faint light shining through the small window so high up on the cinder block wall. “Then I could fly away.” My voice lowers to nearly a whisper and I turn on the hard ground, facing the boy at my side. I tuck my arm under my head and swallow the lump in my throat as I avoid his gaze. It’s such a serious look in his light gray eyes. I can hardly stand the chill that runs through me.
Some days I think he’s angry with me. I can’t shake the thought that he hates me; that he hates being stuck here with me, both of us helpless and at the hands of his heartless father.
“Both of us.” I clear my throat and chance a look up at him as I add, “I mean I wish we were both birds.” I turn to gesture toward the far wall as I explain, “So we could fly through that window.”
The boy smiles at me, although I don’t think it’s genuine. “But it’s closed,” he says in a voice so rough and low it makes goosebumps spread across my skin. He clears his own throat, propping up his head in his hand and leaning on his elbow to look down at me. My heart does a weird flip in my chest, fluttering when he leans closer to me. I can feel the heat of his body. He’s older than me. He looks it, too. I feel my cheeks heat with a blush and I look away, turning back to the window and pulling at the thin gown I have on. It’s not enough to keep me warm down here and I know if I were just a bit closer to the boy, I’d be more comfortable, but I keep my distance.
“Well, what animal then?” I ask the boy, curling on my side and tucking both arms beneath my head.
He’s quiet for a moment, but then he answers, “A wolf could break it.”
I resist the urge to turn to face him, closing my eyes as they roll and a small smile forms on my lips. A wolf could never fit through that window.
I decide to play along, feeling a warmth run through me as I hear him scoot closer to me. He never touches me, but he likes to be close to me. And I like it too although I don’t tell him. “Well, you be a wolf and break the window, and I’ll be a bird. Together we can run away.”
“I saw a wolf kill a bird once on TV,” he says, but the boy’s voice is devoid of emotion and the shock of what he said makes me turn to face him, sitting up and pulling my knees into my chest.
“Why would a wolf do that?” I feel my brows pinch and my lips turn down; I know it’s obvious I’m horrified from what he said, and it only makes him laugh.
He shrugs his shoulders and picks at a spot on the concrete floor, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Something about the look on his face makes my heart do that fluttering motion again and I find myself inching forward, my toes barely touching his thigh. But we both notice that they touch.
“A wolf doesn’t have any reason to hurt a bird.” I stare at him, but he still doesn’t look up at me. “I don’t understand.”
The boy tilts his head to look at me and this time, the expression is something I’ve never seen before. There’s a rawness in the light gray flecks, a heat on the outer edge where his eyes get darker. Almost like a flicker of a flame giving his gaze an intensity that makes my body freeze, but not with a coldness, with a burning heat.