Page 58 of Healing Souls

It gives me a piece of my mom to hold onto and think about. After going through three years of not speaking about her and having no one to talk to, I still find it hard to bring up sometimes or think too much about because my mind is still stuck in that basement and in the words Moth–Tammy would spit at me all the time.

Gabriel comes walking around from the far side of the building, heading straight for us, a scowl on his face as he gets closer. “Doc is here to see you. He said he can probably take your stitches out. Although, I don’t see how when you won’t rest.”

I cross my arms and stare him down. “I have rested plenty. And I haven’t done anything strenuous. So what’s the problem, Gabriel?”

His eyes narrow on me, but when Colton slaps a hand down on his shoulder, he shuts his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath before talking.

“You got shot Harley. I’m just trying to make sure you heal and stay healthy. I don’t know exactly how to do this or how to give you an outlet to work through it. You don’t just get shot and move on the next day. That isn’t how it works.”

I scoff. “I think I can handle it myself just fine. Being shot was nothing. But if you really want to help me heal, find the fucker so I can beat his ass.”

Noah lets out a loud whistle. “Damn, Princess, tell us how you really feel.”

I turn towards him. “I feel, Noah, ready to punch you in the face if you don’t stop calling me princess,” I growl and then turn back towards Gabriel and Colton. “I feel like you need to tell me what’s going on with Daniel and everything else. I’m not going to be left out because you seem to think I am some weak ass child who can’t handle herself. If I need to prove you wrong, I will. I amnotweak.”

“Harley, I don’t think you’re weak. But that doesn’t mean I can’t want to protect you. You’re my daughter—”

“No, I’m not!” I yell and then force myself to breathe and speak softer. “I’m not your daughter. I get that you want to call me that, but don’t. You can’t. It’s—”It’s too close of a connection to Tammy and Richard and them calling me daughter all the time in a sickening tone of voice.

But I can’t, I can’t say that.I can’t talk about this now.

“Just don’t call me your daughter. I am not your daughter.” I glare at him, finding the anger inside of me to help stop me from crying as Tammy’s voice seems to force its way into my mind, mockingly calling me that.

Gabriel’s face falls. For just a split-second, devastation comes over him before he masks it and gives me a blank stare. My stomach knots, and it feels like a lump forms in my throat.Why am I feeling this way?I shouldn’t care how it affects him.

“Fine. But you’re staying here. That means you’re under my care. You are my responsibility, and whether or not you like it, according to the state, I am responsible for you and at the end of the day, I will decide what is best for you.”

Alarm along with fury seem to ripple up my spine. I won’t allow someone to control me. I will run before that happens again. I can’t do it.

Words fail me as I glare at Gabriel with burning hatred. For a moment, not only today but the other day when he told us his story, I had felt for him. I’d wanted to do something comforting for him. But now that is gone.

The last time someone decided what was best for me, I got locked in a basement, and I will die before I ever end up like that again.

Itcan’thappen.

“Darlin’, head inside and see Doc about getting those stitches out,” Colton says gently.

Without saying anything, I turn and head inside to find Doc. What am I supposed to do now? Can I really trust that Gabriel is going to give me freedom? Do I even actually have the choice of staying here or going to live with Brielle?

I’m really trying to give them a fair chance. I have to trust that not everyone I meet is going to end up being like Tammy.

But those first two weeks when I woke up in the hospital after my mom died, I really thought that Tammy was going to help me, love me, tell me everything was going to be okay.

She put on a show for everyone, even me, until we left the hospital. Then everything went to shit.

The thought of that happening again is terrifying.

Doc is sitting at the bar chatting with a prospect. I approach them but turn and walk past Doc to where my backpack sits on the end of the counter. Digging around inside of it, I find my three knives and quickly stash them on myself.

As I walk back towards Doc, he glances at me. “Ready?”

I nod and follow him as he leads me back to the medical room. Inside, I get on the bed and raise my shirt just enough so he can see the stitches. When his hands move to touch me, I tense but bite my lip and stay silent.

His hands drop, and he eyes me as he grabs a stool and pulls it up to my side and takes a seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I am going to ask you something, and I want you to know that whatever the answer is, it won’t leave this room. No one is asking me to ask you this. I am asking because I picked up on signs. So be honest with me so I can help you. Alright?”

“Okay,” I say hesitantly.

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