Page 37 of All the Things We Buried
She leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“Just like a good little doll,” she whispered. “Tea is always the solution. It will cure your mind.”
Then she stood and walked toward the door, leaving me like this.
Paralyzed and silent.
And once again, he wasn’t there to save me.
I blinked twice, slowly looking around. It felt like someone was sitting on my legs, pressing down harder with every breath. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t do anything.
I was completely numb.
Tears slid from the corners of my eyes, running down toward my temples. My eyes blurred as I tried to close my eyes, but before I did, I saw her.
The wet lady.
Water dripped from her tangled hair, each cold drop landing on my face as she hovered above me. I couldn’t make out her features, just the outline of her, just her presence.
I wanted to scream, but no sound came. All of it stayed locked inside me, pounding against my chest like fists on a sealed coffin.
I shut my eyes tight.
I didn’t want to see her again. I knew if I looked, she would be closer. She would reach for me. And maybe she should. Maybe it would be better if she did. Better if I weren’t even here.
Her hair brushed against my skin, damp strands trailing down my cheeks.
Then I heard footsteps.
The bed shifted beside me.
Someone lay down next to me, and an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close.
“I got you, Trouble,” he said softly, letting my head fall against his chest.
He came for me.
Was this real?
He held me tighter, one hand cupping the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. His chest rose and fell under my cheek. I felt safe.
“I won’t let them hurt you again,” he whispered into my forehead.
Another promise. Another lie waiting to happen.
Because I wasn’t safe in this house. I never would be.
But in his arms, I felt like I could breathe again. In his arms, I felt like I existed. Like maybe I was still human. Still something.
His arms were home in a house that never could be.
Morning light slipped through the blinds and fell across my face. I blinked against it, and when I moved my hands, they found their way to his chest.
He was still here. Still holding me.
This was wrong. So wrong.
I opened my eyes. His eyes were already open, watching me.
