I kept my eyes on her, wanting to read her reactions, "That Willow walked into the shop and found him there with his hands on you." The last few words came out shaky as I felt my hands ball into fists next to me at the thought of him even taking her. "Willow said you looked like you were in pain. Did he hurt you?"
"It was nothing." Her tone is flat, but the way her eyes dart from side to side, how her hands grip around her torso, says so much more than her words mean.
"It wasn't nothing and you know that." I step closer hesitantly.
"It…wasn't the worst, so that's something." A single tear escapes her lids and streams down her face. Her hand quickly wipes it away, trying to hide its existence.
"What do you mean, it wasn't the worst?" I ask, trying to keep my voice as soft as I can. Which is very little because of the way my hands are itching to end this man.
Letting a deep breath out as she said, "I—."
"Tell me." Daring to step closer I rub my hand up her arm, trying to soothe her. She pulls away and my heart aches for her skin to be back on my fingertips.
She turns around, placing her bag on one the hooks that lined the wall, "We should go upstairs. I don't stay down here more than I need to."
I follow behind her up the stairs, accepting this invitation into her world. I examine the faded bare beige walls as we make our way from the living room to the staircase. There were no pictures on the walls, the only thing on them were a few scuff marks and water stains. We reach the top floor and approach a closed door at the end of the hallway. Ryen pauses, holding the doorknob for a moment. The moment feels as if she is debating on letting me into her space. I take the moment to wonder if her room looks like the rest of the home. I hoped it had more life than these walls did. I hoped she wasn't surrounded by the sadness that lay on the floorboard of this house.
The moment passes, as she makes up her mind on the matter, pushing the door open. To my relief I feel the warmth as I walk in through the threshold of her room.
Her walls are the faintest shade of sage green and are covered in art, written notebook pages, and twinkle of lights cascaded along the wall of her desk. Collaged pictures of her with Paul, Willow and…Devon. It was only one, but I noticed it immediately. My stomach churned as I looked at it harder. Ryen didn't look happy in it, he was holding her for dear life in a side hold. She looked stiff and he looked…drunk. My fists ball up by my sides and I have to take a breath to ease the anger building up inside of me. Ryen's smell engulfed me as I took another deep breath, the smell of lilac and fresh coffee. It helped me relax. My jaw unclenched and my fists released.
Her back was still towards me as she fiddled with something on her desk, I needed to know what was going on, "What is it that he did? I mean this time and all the other times?" I blurted the words so that I didn't let this space and the smell distract me from what I needed to know. Because I knew I could get lost in her little part of this house, the part that was hers. I would get lost in any part of her if she let me.
"Devon, my boy—" her head bowed, and her frame became frigid.
"Your ex-boyfriend." I interjected.
She deflated a fractioned "Yeah. Ex-boyfriend." Her eyes were still avoiding me.
I moved closer. Closing the space between us, I watched her as I did. Gauging her feelings by how she reacted to my movement. I needed to know the extent of how much he damaged her, I needed to know how much of a threat he was to her. Ryen's eyes watered again, and my heart ached at the sight.
"Yes-s." Her voice was broken as she held back the tears from flowing over.
"What did he do?"
She blinked hard and the hot streaks of tears rolled down her cheeks.
Just let me in please.
"Ryen, what did he do to you?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but the feral need to know was too strong and it came out more stern than I knew she needed me to be.
I extended my hand to her, not touching her, just letting it hang in the air for a second.
She didn't move but her breath quickened.
"May I?" I whisper.
A slight nod is the only response I get.
My hand glides up her arm, gently running up her neck before cupping her cheek, my fingertips caress her hair, “Ryen, let me in. I am here for you."
"I c-can't." Her voice breaks along with my chest.
"Let me bear the pain, let me join you in it." I lean closer feeling her breath.
"It's wrong of me." She breathes out
"What is?" My brows creased together.