I just need to breathe.
To think.
Tofeelsomething other than this helplessness.
Hurriedly stripping out of my clothes, I turn on the shower before stepping beneath the cold spray.
Blade against my inner thigh, water beats down on me from above, mixing with my endless stream of tears. Life isn’t meant to be this hard. Every step forward laden as my past tries to drag me back into that abyss.
Hopelessness echoes in the chambers of my mind, and everything in me begs to surrender. I don’t want to, but how long can I continue on? I’ve been trying so fucking hard… I’ve been fighting… battling through the nightmares. Pushing through the triggers, but what’s the point when the victories are ephemeral and the defeats are insurmountable? How can I overcome this? How can I fight it when the sheer notion of his release has the power to break me?
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been slowly fragmenting since coming here. Being away from Aurora and leaving her in my mother’s care. It’s slowly eating at me. Then being abruptly confronted with my past and having to face Grayson and the reminder he represents.
Now, today… it’s more than I can handle.
With that knowledge, I slice the blade across my skin, watching as the red rivulets dilute in the water and run crimson tracks down my inner thigh.
There’s no relief. No release.
I just feel empty.
The tears come harder, and clutching the blade in my hand, I fall to my knees, head bent beneath the stream of water.
“Riley.” A voice calls to me through the darkness, but I’m too numb to fully register it. “Fuck. Riley! Shit, ROYCE!”
The shower door opens, cold air raising goosebumps along my skin before Logan sinks to his knees in front of me, fully clothed as the water turns his white top transparent.
His hands cup my face, lifting it to his, and worry shines within his chestnut orbs. “Riley.” Something catches his attention and he looks down, his expression shattering. “Fuck,Shortcake.” His voice cracks as he tugs me to him, his heat seeping into my frigid skin. “Not like this. You’re not alone this time. You have us, and we aren’t going anywhere.”
Pulling back, he grabs a hold of my hand, gently unfurling my fingers and plucking the blade from between them before tossing it toward the shower drain. “I know this was your escape before, but you don’t need it. Not this time. You have us. Letmebe your escape. I’ll fill you with so much light and happiness and wrap you up so tightly that you’ll never have to worry aboutanyonegetting anywhere near you again.”
He’s already pulling me in for another bruising hug, and I bury my face in his neck, so damn grateful to have someone else holding me up for once. To have someone show up for me. Being here. Looking out for me. I’ve never had that before, and honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted of doing all of it on my own.
I sink into his warmth, losing track of everything around me. I vaguely register Royce’s presence, a soothing balm to my wounded soul, as a towel is wrapped around my goose-pebbled body. One of them tends to the cut on my leg, the other holding tight to my hand the entire time, before I’m hoisted into the air and lowered carefully onto a soft mattress.
Heat envelops me as they each slide in beside me. “Sleep, baby,” Logan murmurs as he snuggles into my side.
“We’ll keep the demons at bay,” Royce adds, the magical words that enable me to give in to the exhaustion pulling on my bones as I succumb to the inky depths of sleep.
“Daddy’s little girl, aren’t you sweetheart?” He strokes his hand down my long strands, oblivious or uncaring of my body trembling. I’m shaking so hard that the bed vibrates. “So goodat keeping our secret. We wouldn’t want Mommy to get jealous now, would we?” He waits for me to shake my head. “And Grayson wouldn’t understand. This is a special bond between daddies and daughters.”
A special bond. That’s how he always refers to it, yet it doesn’t feel special to me. Not like the way I feel when Grayson smiles at me. Or when he slipped me a wrapped box under the table on my birthday. I tucked it into my jacket and didn’t dare pull it out until I was locked inside my bathroom. Only then did I carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid, revealing a colorful bead bracelet inside. It fit perfectly on my wrist. I wore it for a week straight before my mom caught sight of it. She said it was cheap and garish-looking and made me take it off, but I hid it in the bottom of my jewelry box. Then, sometimes, afterheleaves, I lift it out and squeeze it to me, pretending it’s Grayson’s arms wrapped around me while I cry silent tears into my nightie.
He places a soft kiss on the back of my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers, before padding on quiet feet out of the room.
Alone. The tears I’ve been holding back spring forth, burning a never-ending path down my cheeks, because tomorrow always comes too soon, and I’m not sure how many more tomorrows I can force myself to face.
I startle awake with a gasp, skin damp with sweat as my eyes bounce over the dark bedroom.
He’s not here. He can’t hurt you. Hewon’thurt you ever again.
Except he’s being released soon, and I can’t delude myself into believing he’s going to move on with his life and leave me alone.
Throat dry and too alert to go back to sleep, I smile wanly at the resting boy sleeping soundly on either side of me before ninja-climbing my way out of the bed.
Tiptoeing to the bathroom, I splash my face with water before staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt that I know isn’t mine, and lifting the collar to my nose, I inhale the faint hint of leather identifying it as Royce’s.
Letting go, my shoulders drop as I exhale, the small act somehow making me look even more defeated.
