“Don’t be absurd! You’ll hurt yourself if you keep clenching your hand and digging your nails into it.”
Oh no! He saw it!I press my lips together.
“Damn, you are stubborn,” he complains, holding out a bandage and a soaked compress. “Disinfect it and put the bandage on yourself, then.”
I’d like to ask him if he slept with Mariah and who he was on the phone with. Maybe he came into our room again in between and only just went out to make a call. Maybe he saw my scarred hand while I was sleeping.
I turn from him, dab the disinfectant-soaked gauze over the wounds, and scream internally because it feels like sparks of fire are crawling across my skin. With my jaw clenched, I remove the strips of paper from the adhesive surface of the bandage and apply it. I know from experience that it won’t last long.
When I’m done, I turn back to River. He holds up a neon yellow wrap. “This is for you.”
Irritated, I look at the material.
“This is something called a Handana. Ever seen one?”
I silently say no.
“I use it sometimes when I stretch lines. Do you think you can give me your hand now?”
And since the ugly wounds are covered and he hasn’t once asked about my silence, I offer him my hand, even though I feel like I’m exposing myself more than if I were to take off my clothes.
River looks at me for a moment and then nods wordlessly. He carefully wraps the material around my fingers, and I don’t know how it makes me feel—irritated, shocked, confused. A deep, dangerous spark crawls across my skin like a dark shiver, hot and cold. No boy has ever touched me like that before, without any malicious ulterior motives, without using me. Just because he wants to do something nice for me. I involuntarily clench my hand.
River clicks his tongue. “Not now, Tucks,” he murmurs in concentration, and I force myself to relax.Everything’s okay. He’s doing something nice for you.
River opens and closes the Velcro a few times until he seems satisfied that the Handana is adjusted correctly. “Okay, now you can imitate Mike Tyson?”
I stare at the neon yellow wrap. I do look like a boxer with only one hand taped. The Handana wraps around my palm and wrist, leaving my thumb free.
Hesitantly, I curl my fingers.
“Tighter.”
I dig my nails into the fabric, and it’s... so soft. It must be padded. There’s only a slight pressure, a tiny prick, nothing more. That can’t be. I close my eyes for a few breaths and feel the new softness. I can’t believe what a difference it makes.
“Feels good,” I hear River ask. No, he doesn’t ask—he states it.
Something warm breaks through the barrier in my throat that separates me from the world. It gets hot and tight, and for a moment, I think I’m going to cry, but all I feel are my dry eyes stinging and the softness against my wounds. I can’t escape my inner world. It’s impossible to emerge from my silence; my fear is too great. Speaking would change everything. I’d have to reinvent Kansas. Actually, that’s exactly what I want, and yet I can’t do it.
But then, in a second of confusion, I wrap my arms around River’s waist and press my face against his chest.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
The words repeat in my head. He timidly strokes my back and wraps his arms around me. “It’s okay. I’m here.” He smells so good, and he understands me. Of all the people in the world, he is the only one who knows what to say and do. The only one I trust, and that’s after a day and a half.I will save you. Something explodes deep inside me. A loud scream, a silent whisper. It feels so good to be touched by him in this way.
Thank you.
The words rise higher than any others ever have, tingling in my throat, expanding as if they’re about to burst from my lips.
It would change everything.
Without warning, my body stiffens. Suddenly, I feel like I’m suffocating.
I abruptly let go and take three steps back.
My lips tremble, my shoulders shake, and I cry tearlessly and silently.
River stands in the corner in front of the table. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You’re safe here.”
