Page 15 of Healing Souls

I feel a hand touch my stomach, and I flinch and feel a scream come out, but it’s raw and not very loud. My throat is on fire, as if I’ve been screaming for weeks. I try to move, but more hands hold me down.No!

Get off me! Get off me!

“Harley! Open your eyes!”

My eyes snap open, but the first thing I see is blood. So much blood. I can’t… It’s too much.Please, not again, Mother… I’ll be good.

There’s blood everywhere… I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. Mother left me, and I rolled over to lay on my back, but it hurt too much, so I sat up. The mattress is covered in blood. The sight and smell of it makes me want to vomit.

I slowly get up and go to shower, leaving a trail of blood as I go.

I can’t remain standing in here, so I slowly slide to the floor of this small box shower. It’s a standing one that I can barely spread my arms in with a sliding door.

Blood runs down the drain as I sit and stare at it.

Sobs rack my body as I cry. My mom’s been gone for three weeks, and I need her. This isn’t fair. It feels like a nightmare I just can’t wake up from. My dreams are plagued with the men who took her from me. The vile things they said—the things they did—that man’s hands holding me. The way his hot, stinky breath felt.

No one here will help me grieve her. None of this makes sense. How could someone be so awful? I want to go home. I want to go back and not have fought with my mom that day. I want to have run with her right away. This is my fault.

I hear… a voice. It has to be Father. But that’s not his voice… I don’t understand. I don’t remember anyone else ever being here. But then again, I didn’t remember the conversation I heard about my mom either. The voice is getting louder, but I can’t see.

“Please, Harley. You’re scaring the fuck out of me. Please come back. You’re safe here. I swear. I need to see those fiery eyes of yours. My little flame.”

My…little flame.

My eyes flutter, light coming through. I blink a few times, and I hear someone suck in a sharp breath. I slowly turn my head, immediately getting caught in his stare. Those brown eyes, so dark they’re almost black.

I feel faint feather-like touches on my hand and slowly look down to see ringed fingers lightly caressing the top of my hand. I hesitantly flip my hand over, and he lays his hand on top of mine, tracing soft circles on my palm with his fingers.

Afraid to look back up into those dark eyes that I know are going to be filled with questions and possibly anger that I held a gun to their club president, I focus on his rings. They’re all black with the exception of one silver ring that sits on his pinky finger. Before I have a chance to think more about them, his fingers wrap around my hand as he squeezes lightly.

Slowly exhaling I draw my eyes back up and immediately feel myself drowning in his dark irises. I feel like I could get lost in them-—or maybe they could save me, ground me, make me feel safe. Finally blinking, I pull my eyes away from his, and we both seem to take a moment to take each other in. Ryker looks the same; his hair is still longer on the top with short sides. By the messy top it’s clear he runs his fingers through it all the time.

The only difference with him now is he looks tired. His face is drained; there are dark circles under his eyes, and his body is slumped in the chair like he barely has the energy to stay sitting up.

Giving his hand that is still holding mine a soft squeeze, Ryker lets out a contented sigh as his lips quirk up at the corners. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see your beautiful eyes,” he says quietly. His voice sends shivers down my spine, leaving the same effect of butterflies in my stomach as it did the first time I ever heard his deep baritone.

Letting his words register, I blink at him, confused. It feels like I’m falling again, into the deepest parts of my brain that I can’t escape.

Before I can get lost, he grips my hand, and I immediately grip his back. Not being fearful of his touch, instead feeling as if it’s my lifeline. “Stay with me now,” he urges. “You’re okay. This is real, I promise. Just keep looking at me and squeezing my hand.”

I give a tiny nod and squeeze his hand harder.

“Can you—can you talk?” he asks hesitantly, his tender eyes meeting mine.

I clear my throat, feeling a burn at the back of it. Whenever I go too long without drinking something, it feels like it’s on fire and hurts really badly to talk. I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a nasty sounding cough.

Ryker jumps up, and I panic, squeezing his hand harder, not wanting him to let go. I think he’s the only thing keeping me from slipping away again.

He freezes and looks down at me, his face softening. “I’m just getting you water. But I can have someone else get it.” I nod. “Let me text Grayson. Do you remember him?” Ryker asks.

I nod again. Beautiful green eyes. Grayson’s eyes and voice have always stayed with me. Rescuing me from countless panic attacks I’d have in the middle of the night over the months I have been gone. He pulls out his phone with his other hand and then realizes he can’t text easily with one hand, so he calls him.

“Hey, Harley is awake. But stay quiet and calm. Just grab water and bring it to me, then leave. I want to give her a few minutes before shit goes sideways… Yep… Bye.”

Shit going sideways? My brain is still fuzzy, but I can only assume that has to do with me, and a small trickle of fear works its way down my spine. Even with Ryker here being friendly towards me and helping me stay calm, I have no idea what awaits me on the other side of the door.

He smiles. “Our knight is coming with water.” A tiny giggle escapes my mouth, surprising me, and Ryker winks at me just as the door opens and Grayson comes in.

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