It took all of my strength and remaining energy to whisper reassurances to the sobbing sixteen-year-old. Everything I had to give, I gave to her. I wanted her to feel safe with me.
The tears come thick and fast, coating my skin in an unbearable reminder of how badly I’ve failed. It doesn’t matter that what happened wasn’t my fault. Honestly, I don’t care whose fault it was.
I still made a promise that I couldn’t keep. I failed to protect that terrified girl who just wanted to go home. Now I’m safe and free while she’s still lost.
Slumping onto my side, I curl up in a ball on the changing room floor. My chest heaves as relentless sobs tear through me, each thunderous clap causing my ribs to shudder.
My cries pour out in a never-ending geyser, ripping free from the broken remnants of my soul. The anger and hatred leave no space for air. I don’t deserve any. Not after breaking my promise.
At the sound of the door reopening, I can’t even attempt to pick myself up. The last thing I want is for Tom to see me like this, but the floodgates have splintered, and I’ve got no chance of rebuilding them.
“Em? You in here?”
More footsteps. Then a sharp inhale.
“Oh, love.”
Metallic thumping betrays Warner’s unmistakable steps. His hollow prosthetic would give him away to anyone. Knowing it’s him only intensifies my embarrassment.
He grunts while struggling to lower himself to the floor a short distance away. I peer through enflamed, tear-logged eyes to look at him. The sweet, broken boy who once harboured so much pain. I know he will understand.
“Tom gave you the number,” he guesses.
“How can I face them?” I weep uselessly. “How can I tell them that I left their daughter behind?”
“You had no choice, Em. You were sold.”
“She needed me!”
“You needed saving yourself,” Warner murmurs.
His soothing words slice into the tissue rupturing inside me until it feels like I’m going to bleed out. I want him to blame me. To scream at me. To tell me he hates me. Anything to validate my guilt.
Instead, he reaches out a single hand towards me. Just one. No expectations, no gruff demands. Just five fingers and a hope that I’ll let him share this burden with me. Hell, withanyone.
“You don’t have to do this alone. Not this time.”
“I’m so tired of hurting,” I whimper.
“Then let me help you. We talked about this, Em. We’re a family. You can lean on us.”
“I don’t know how… I’m alone. Always alone.”
“No. You’re not.”
Warner doesn’t wave his hand in invitation or wriggle his fingers. He doesn’t even inch closer. It’s all on me… He’s giving me the choice to accept his support or not.
The unconditional love in his motiveless care breaks me. Limbs locked tight, I shuffle across the floor to near him. Our fingers bounce off each other before his hand cinches around mine.
I drag in a startled breath.
“That’s it, love.” His firm grip on my hand tightens. “I’ve got you now.”
Warner pulls me close until I can crawl into his lap. I clamber on top of him, a leg on either side of his waist as I flatten my chest against his. Comfort thaws my frozen bones as two strong arms curl around me in a vice.
Every part of us ends up touching, not a single inch of air or space separating us. We’re locked tighter than two lost puzzle pieces, desperate to reveal the final image.
As the cyclone inside me continues to spin, I let myself be held by him. Comforted. Offered support and assurance. I’ve never given myself this luxury before.
