Page 48 of Those That Are Lost
Her hair is pretty wet by the time I’ve washed her body, so I gently undo the braid and wash that too, gently tipping her head back to rinse the shampoo.
After conditioning the fiery curls, which turn deep red in the water, I find us some new towels.
Red moves wordlessly in sync with me. I manage to get us dry and into bed without us uttering a single sentence. We don’t need it.
She never tries to move away. In fact, her heart rate spikes anytime I move too far away. Whilst she’s worrying me to all hell with being so checked out, I notice how she softens, relaxes, whenever I’m close.
Cocooned under the heavy duvetand a couple of blankets, she curls up on her side in the foetal position whilstI wrap myself around her.
It's only once we are in the dark and the shadows are sprawling out on top of us that she speaks.
“I hate that he still has that hold over me.” Her voice is weak. Without questioning I know who she’s referring to.
“He tried to do something horrific, of course it’s hard to get over that.” Images of him touching her, the feeling of the chains at my wrists, flash through my head. I pull her tighter against me.
“But I should be able to control my reactions.”
“I should’ve thought, shouldn’t have grabbed your wrists like that. I’m so sorry, Red.” I lay a kiss on her shoulder blade.
“No,” she fires back, voice firm. “I need tonotreact. At least not react in the way I did. Imagine if that was one of his males that found me, imagine if that fight was real and not pretend.” I don’t let myself picture what she’s suggesting.
I’ll break something, multiple somethings, if I do.
The shadows around us swirl.
“Is that why you’ve been so closed off since you got back here?” I implore. “I’m not judging you, I simply wish to understand because you seemed okay when I left the clearing.”
“Why did you leave?” She rolls onto her back to look at me, entangling her legs with mine.
“Because I’m always going to remind you of being stuck in that dungeon,” I force out, closing my eyes so I don’t have to see her reaction. As soon as she realises it's the truth, she’ll withdraw from me, I know it.
“Ty,” she says my name on an exhale, her hand coming to cup my cheek. “In the weeks you’ve been back in my life this is the first time you’ve made me panic.” I wince, this is it. “And that wasn’t your fault.” She continues to stroke my stubbled cheek and jawline. “Did you know that my attackshave been so much less since you found me? Today was possibly the worst one, I won’t lie to you. But I had attacks almost that strong nearly daily when I was on my own.”
That reopens my eyes. She hadn’t told me this. Even in the dark room I can see her eyes bright and shining, looking at me like… like she might feel something for me that I’ve not seen in her eyes since that alleyway.
“You suffered like that when you were alone?” My guilt is a physical weight inside my body.
“Yes. And why I was able to seem so normal afterwards. I’ve had plenty of practice pulling a mask into place. When really, the attacks leave me so drained I can barely function.”
Good Gods, this female. She has a strength I can only fathom. I’m starting to see how adept she is at shutting people out. Her mind can build a fortress as easily as flicking a light switch. Whilst her magical ability can create a physical shield to hide her true form, she can build a personality to hide her true feelings.
“And when you got back here?” I ask slowly, hope flickering to life.
“I don’t have to pretend with you.” Seven words. Seven words that have a huge impact and squash my earlier doubt.
“I never want you to hide from me, Red.” I reach up to stroke her still damp hair, catching a few strands between my fingers. I was the first she dropped her glamour around after the accident that turned her, the first she felt comfortable enough around to be her true self, and not the dulled version she tried to be so she didn’t catch the attention of everyone around her.
“I’m sorry if I worried you. I get so drained that it's easier to not feel for a while. To detach myself from… well, me, I guess,” she confesses like this is some great sin. I understand it. When my pack was wiped out in the war, I wanted the exact same thing. Only I used alcohol and drugs. She goes so deeply introverted she’s a walking void.
“It’s okay. If it helps you cope then maybe it's a good thing. Just… let me know if there is anything I can do better. Should I have left you alone?”
“No,” she says so quickly I’ve barely finished my sentence. “You helped, actually. Normally when that happens I don’t feel better for at least a day. You’ve brought me back so much quicker, usually I’m pulling myself back together because I have to go to work or interact with others. This, tonight, feels different. I feel like myself in a much shorter time, especially after an attack that bad.”
“I don’t like that you feel this way.”
“Talking is helping,” she says as a yawn breaks free of her body.
“Maybe sleep would help too?”
