Page 33 of Fear the Reapers
“My s… stutter.” I stammered, grimacing to myself. “It’s easier to control when I’m alone.”
I could hear the sounds of her settling herself just beyond the door, and the tightness in my chest eased. She was willing to hear me out.
“I’m s… sorry about earlier.”
She’d shared shit about her ugly past and I toyed with her. Treated her like shit because of my own insecurities. Because I didn’t want to believe that she actually gave a fuck.
“Okay… ” she said, her voice slightly louder than a whisper, “I won’t say it's okay, because it wasn’t. But I understand that you probably don’t trust me.”
Stevie perpetually threw me off axis and whenever she was around, I tried to grasp onto the cold disposition I wore like a shield. With every gentle word she uttered, I could feel it wearing thin. She was right. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t trust anyone except my brothers. But she was the only girl I’d ever met that made me want to change that.
“You aren’t wrong.” I offered, sliding down to lean my back against the door.
“If it makes you feel any better,” she added, “I don’t trust you either.”
I had to laugh at that admission.Smart girl.
“Why’s that?” I grinned, closing my eyes to focus on the sound of her lyrical voice.
Because I rarely used my own, voices naturally stood out to me. As I grew older, voice analyzing was a natural progression that I sort of picked up along the way. You could tell a lot about a person by their voice. Stevie’s voice was soft and sweet, but not in a weak way. There was power behind her words and it took strength to emanate that with such soft tonality.
“Because I don’t know you. This is the first time you’ve talked to me without a threat in your tone.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was also the first time I didn’t feel the need to fight whatever was happening between us. She offered a piece of her past; it was only fair that I offered her some of mine.
“Could I…” I winced, hating how weak it sounded. “I’m going to share something with you.”
“Okay...” She trailed off, waiting for me to speak.
“Our parents died too.” I blurted, then immediately knocked my head against the door. This sharing shit was so fucking stupid, but I couldn’t stop now.
“Cy and I were s… six when it happened, Atlas was eleven, and Ezra was nine. We had no immediate family, s… so we went into the system.”
I paused, debating if I should go further. Anyone armed with google and our last name could find the admission I gave her, but what I was about to share went much deeper. It was something we rarely spoke of, even to each other.
“We got s… separated when Cyrus and I got fostered. Ez got fostered a few years later while Atlas s... stayed in the group home until he was sixteen.”
“At first our foster parents, Ryan and Joanne Kincaid, s… seemed like the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all American couple. Cyrus and I, with our dark hair and p… perpetual frowns didn’t really fit in with that image, but we agreed to try, anyway. We missed our b… brothers, b… but we thought The Kincaids were going to be the normal parents we’d always wished we had.” I said, releasing a deep exhale and knowing just how wrong we were.
“It d… didn’t take long for Ryan to discover my s… stutter. He was a very particular man, and he hated the attention and pity my s… stutter would draw when we were in public. He genuinely believed he could beat the s… stutter out of me and when that didn’t work, he started beating Cyrus and I for s… sport. Whenever I could, I’d force Cyrus to trade places with me s… so I could take the brunt of his abuse. I figured, my brain was fucked, anyways. What kind of damage could another couple of hits do?” I asked, laughing darkly at my ignorance.
“As it turns out, a lot. After Atlas got us the fuck out of there the minute he turned eighteen, all the doctors, therapists, and s… speech pathologists he forced me to see confirmed what we s… suspected. My s… stutter could’ve gone away on its own with time and therapy, but thanks to the s… severe brain trauma I endured at the hand of The Kincaids, all I could do now is try my best to not trigger it. Our childhoods weren’t very different, Stevie. Maybe our paths were d… destined to cross.”
“Yeah. Maybe…” She trailed off, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Thank you for listening.” I quipped, stretching as I rose to my feet.
I had enough kumbaya time to last me a lifetime. Stevie didn’t sound like she hated me, and I could live with that. I turned to leave, then paused. Realizing I forgot to tell her the best part of the story.
“My story has a happy ending.” I admitted, trying to choose my words carefully. I was going to reveal something to Stevie that no one but my brothers knew. It was pertinent information that could get us in a lot of trouble if it fell into the wrong hands, but I had an overwhelming urge to trust her. “Cyrus and I killed Ryan Kincaid the second we had a chance, and we’ve never regretted it.”
“I hope you get yours one day too, pet.”
Chapter 21
Ezra
3am, The Devil’s hour. As I stared at the ceiling fan circling above my bed, I reflected on the night’s events and smiled serenely at myself. Most of the time my brothers write off my decisions as crazy or impulsive, but everything I do has purpose. Bringing her to face the demons at Hell’s Tavern was the only way to see if she really could survive in our world.
