“What?” she questions sleepily and looks at me through her thick lashes. I have to smile down at her, even if it is a sad one because comparing what we had before to what we have now only makes me feel regret.
“Nothing, just this bed is so small… like the one at your grandmother’s house.”
Her wide eyes go soft blue for a moment, and she gives me the same smile in return before she sinks back down. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. I take my time pulling the blanket around her, tucking her in and then settle back against the wall.
“Sleep.” I give her the command when her small fingers trace every little cut on my hand rather than being still.
“Did they tell you what happened in the holding cell?”
“Your panic attack?”
She stares up at me, her lips parted slightly like a word is caught there. “Were you faking it?” I tease her, downplaying it so she doesn’t freak out. I can’t blame her. Out of all the things to be, she shouldn’t be embarrassed about it, and that’s a bit how she looks. I nudge my shoulder, forcing her to roll toward me and her small hand splays against my chest to catch herself. “I was going to tell the guys there’s no way you were faking it, you’ve never been good at faking it.”
My crude joke gets the smallest hint of a laugh from her. It’s short but it brings a genuine smile to her lips. “You’ll be all right,” I promise her. “We’ll get out of here and I’ll keep you safe.”
She doesn’t protest what I say and I pray that it means she’s let go of what I told her about her father. At least for the moment. I’ll tell her everything if she wants. If she wants to ignore it, forget it, deny it, I’ll let that happen too. Whatever I have to do to keep her.
It takes me a long moment as I’m staring at the knob of the door, trying not to replay that scene from all those years ago, to realize she’s crying.
“So many tears,” I tease her gently, but lean down to wipe the tears from her left eye. The tears from her right are stolen by my shirt.
“I just want to be safe with you,” she whispers and then sniffs. She always looks pissed off rather than hurt when she cries. She doesn’t now, though.
“You are safe with me,” I say and I can’t hide the despair in my tone at the thought that she doesn’t feel safe with me. “You want to go when we get out of here?” I search for anything, grasping for a thread to hold on to and all I can think is that she never wanted this life. If I’d left eight years ago, given it all up, none of this would have happened. “We can go wherever you want. We can leave. As long as we’re together.”
Her sobs turn harder and she crawls onto my lap, no longer satisfied with only having her cheek on my chest. Her small form curls up as she rests her head in the crook of my neck. Wrapping both of my arms around her, I hold her tighter, not remembering a time she’s been like this. She’s so broken. My poor girl.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, stroking her back, doing everything I can to love her. “We’re going to be fine.” My throat is tight with emotion when I promise her, “If you want to get out of here and leave, I promise I’ll leave. I’ll do it for you.”
She doesn’t respond, other than to cry harder. I shush her, I kiss her, I don’t know what else to do. I wish I’d just left with her eight years ago. I wish we had a different life together.
“Let it out, Babygirl.” Still rocking her, I watch the door and let her fall apart. I’ll be here for her always. She’ll see. I mean it and when she sees that, she’ll stay with me. I just can’t lose her again.
She doesn’t respond to the idea of us leaving and part of me thinks it’s because she doubts I’ll do it. “I’ll do anything to keep you,” I whisper when her sobs quiet.
She doesn’t respond to that either. She sits up all on her own, her ass still in my lap and avoids eye contact. It’s not uncommon for her to do that after a cry. With her nose red and her cheeks only slightly less so, she picks up the sheet and wipes her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” That’s the first thing she says.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I say, pressing my hand to her cheek and she leans into my touch. It’s the first bit of hope I have when she closes her eyes and puts both her hands over mine. Her bottom lip trembles again and she asks, “Can I ask you, please, to hold me until the end?”
“To the very end,” I promise her and she tries her damnedest not to cry again. Her eyes stay closed and I have to pull her in close because she sits there, not moving, not saying anything. “I promise you, it’s going to be all right. Better than. I promise, I’ll fix it all.”
Time passes, a lot of it, before she tells me, “I know you will.” It’s only a gentle whisper until sleep takes her away from me.
I can’t breathe. I know I’m able to, but I can’t breathe. Clinging to Seth, I can’t do anything but hold him closer and try to get rid of the vision in front of my eyes. It was a nightmare but then I woke up here. It really happened.
I killed her.
My eyes burn and I heave in a breath.
“Laura, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Seth’s trying to soothe me. He’s doing everything he can, but the nightmare felt so real. I woke up only to remember it happened. It happened.
Slowly, I can move, although I’m trembling. “I need it to go away,” I speak into his chest. Seth smells like home. He doesn’t smell like here. If only I’d been sleeping closer...
I inch myself onto his lap. I don’t want to touch any of the bed, only him.
Make it go away. Erase all of it. I want it all gone.
“Hey, hey, you okay?” he says. His voice is a balm, but his touch is salvation.
“Just hold me,” I beg him, finally coming down from the terror. With his arms wrapped around me as I’m cradled in his lap, I lift up my head and tell him, “No, no, just kiss me.”
Crashing my lips to him, I refuse to feel anything but him. He’ll take me away from here. He’ll save me. I know he will. His lips are hot, my kiss hungry.
At first he tries to pull back, although his lips have already softened and molded to mine, teasing me.
“Laura—” he starts, in almost a warning tone.
“Please,” I say, cutting him off. “Please, Seth. Please kiss me.” I am as desperate and pathetic as I sound. I’m so very aware of it.
The room isn’t dark or small but either way, it feels like it’s closing in on me. “I need you,” I breathe with my eyes closed. He can take me away from here. He can make me feel like it’s all going to be all right. He’s done it so many times before.
All of my darkest moments are only blips, only small dips in a timeline because he was there showing me where to go, leading me away. He can do it all with a kiss.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, although it comes out as if I’m begging. “I’ll do anything for you to kiss me right now.” I’m slow to open my eyes, my heart steady as my hands move up to his neck. His muscles ripple under my touch as he leans in with me, nipping my bottom lip then sucking it before finally kissing me.