The door opens, pulling my attention loosely. Malachi’s there. He smiles softly and walks closer, a pair of grey sweatpants taking long strides across the small space. My gaze turns away, and I choose the window, the air, and the bright, blue sky flying past us rather than look at him. It’s not his fault. I know that. But deep down inside me where I’ve been violated and taken against my will, I remember them, not him, and that’s the problem now. He might have saved me after the event, and he might have cared for me since then, but what are we now? Nothing.
I’m not having his pity either.
He sits on the chair between me and the window, trying to force me to make eye contact. The only contact I’m comfortable with is his chest, his size, the breadth of him that might, somehow, make the visions of them go away.
“Are you hungry?” I frown and keep staring at his skin. “Thirsty?” No. He sighs and lets that chest of his keep rising up and down. “Talk to me, Alice.”
I roll over, not ready, or able, to even think about conversation. What is there to talk about? What happened to me? What did they do to me? What was he too late to stop? No point. That’s how fucked life is for me. I suppose it was always coming, always a threat.
The bed dips, and I feel his weight come in behind me. The feeling makes me freeze, shake, flinch when he tries to put his hand on my hip. He lifts it immediately. “You tell me what you want me to do,” he murmurs, softly. “I’m here.” I don’t want him to do anything other than remove the last few days somehow, take me back to his snow and his castle and times when we ran freely. It was good there. I looked after him, was trying to find ways to help him in my own way.
But now it’s too late for that.
We’re both fucked.
Both a fucking mess.
Nothing happens after that. No conversation. No clean hands trying to hold me. He just lies there behind me, making his presence felt without doing anything at all. In some ways, that’s comforting.
In others, it’s terrifying.
~
“Time to wake up, Alice.” My eyelids crack slowly under the feeling of old tears and worn out thoughts. He’s knelt down by the side of the bed, his chin resting on his hands and a calm look about his features. No viciousness anymore. Just calm and stoic. Dressed now. A black T-shirt. “We’re here.” I don’t know where here is. Or where I want it to be. “Can you move or should I carry you?”
I frown and pull my legs up tighter, unsure how I feel about anyone touching me yet. Everything hurts still. It’s raw, bruised, and inflamed with the feeling of men punishing holes that were not meant for them. He’s dead now, though. Can’t hurt me anymore.
I can picture him in my mind, see the bright green clouding over as Malachi took his life. That was nice of him. Retaliation. Vengeance. But what for? Because someone took me, or because I mean something? I’m safe, I suppose. Fucked, but safe now.
The second the thought enters my hazy brain, it reels sideways into thoughts of Brett and Brandon and their safety. My eyes fly open fully, panic gripping a body that was happy to labour in apathy. “Where are they?” croaks out of me. “Brett, Brandon?” He smiles and starts getting up to move for the wardrobe, as I cough out my dry throat. “Malachi? Does Whit have them? Are they alright?”
A pile of clothes gets dropped down beside me, and he picks a sweater up. “I would hope they’re fine. Or will be when you call them. That should be possible now you’re talking again.”
“What does that mean?” I pull myself upright, glowering at his answer that sounds more fucking quizzical than it does solid.
He holds the sweater out to me, tries to reach for my hand to help. I snatch it back. “Get dressed, Alice.” I shake my head and continue glaring, bare legs scrambling away from him. “You can take all the time you need to deal with this, but do not run from me.”
“Fuck off.”
He sighs, tilts his head, then moves. The speed of him coming at me causes a riot of images to pass through me. They make me scream and fight and kick to escape the hold he gets on me. Nothing works. “I’m here, Alice.” I’m smothered by him, held too tightly, and I still can’t get out of it no matter how much I bitch and wrangle. Solid arms stay firm. No pain, no anger in them. I’m just held fast, and he takes every hit and scratch sent his way. “I’m here,” he keeps saying. “I’m here.” But he wasn’t and now I’m nothing and he’s still fucking holding me. “Sssh. I’ve got you. Calm down.” No. I don’t want to calm down. I want rage and hatred and anything to make these feelings go away. “You’re safe.” Tears start coming out of me. Frustration, disgust, fear. I don’t know what they are but now I can’t stop them and he still won’t let me go.
My head’s shaking, lips trembling, as I keep fighting.
It’s like all the minutes in that room, and all the feelings belonging in there, are exploding out of me. I can’t stop them, don’t want to either. He wasn’t there and now I’m back there and I need to scream that, bellow it until he understands.
The hold just gets tighter and tighter. The strength more solid, more controlling, until eventually I’ve got no fight left in me and I’m just a ball in his grip. His hands release me slowly. Not gone completely. They’re just there now. Soft on my skin, soothing as he starts drawing patterns on my tattoos and scars.
“Breathe Alice.”
So I breathe. I let his touch calm me down. Let the tears flow until they’re nothing but more stains on this fouled body. Just his hands now. Just quiet and his hands.
Chapter 7
Malachi
If I could rip out part of my strength and give it to her, I would. I never thought I’d find that feeling for someone, but it’s here now. I thought killing and castrating Greene would deal with the hostility building inside me back at the apartment, but that was nothing compared to the look of her flesh in the shower. It was battered. All of it. Teeth marks, handprints, scratch marks. Blood. She flinched when I tried to wash between her thighs and ass, cried, and then went almost comatose in my hold. I cleaned her anyway. Held her tighter, regardless of how soft I was trying to be, and wiped blood away that was not caused by me.
And I still don’t know what happened entirely.
