Page 7 of Sparks of Insanity
“Oh shit. God, I’m sorry. I know not to touch you. Jesus, I shouldn’t touch you at all, regardless of the reasons they explained to me. Fuck!” I hadn’t let go though. Why hadn’t I let go yet?
Em’s eyes focused on my fingers, loosely circling her slim wrist, and suddenly she lunged in my direction, crashing against my chest, burying her face against it as her arms tucked in against me.
She was practically in my lap, and touching me, and what the hell was I supposed to do? Holding her seemed like the natural thing to do, didn’t it? I shouldn’t though. I shouldn’t fucking touch her, but god I wanted to. She needed comfort. She needed me.
5
Ember
Ihadn’t been touchedby anyone in so long, because my family all knew touching me was a danger, as in I tended to lash out if they tried. The doctors knew, and Mr E knew, and yet… as I felt warm skin against mine, there was no fear. There was no revulsion. There was, my god, there was comfort. Safety. Protection.
Suddenly I threw myself at him, because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, that he’d keep me safe, that somehow it was okay to be closer to him, because he wouldn’t overstep any boundaries.
Admittedly, I was pushing us both past a boundary by virtually jumping in his lap, but suddenly, for the first time since I was a kid, I wanted,needed, to be touched, to be held, comforted.
“Please,” I whispered against his chest, pressing closer into his body, my hands clutching at his thin blue jumper, feeling his shirt buttons beneath it. Slowly, tentatively, his arms settledaround me, one on my back, while the other was on my head, holding me against him.
All of the angst and pain in my mind drifted away, because I was safe and warm, and nobody could hurt me like this. Nobody could make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Nobody could force me into anything, or make me feel bad, or weird. Nobody could… why did it feel so right? Why did it feel like I was supposed to be right here in his arms?
Mr E was stroking my hair gently as I slowly calmed enough to stop crying, even though the pain of my guilt was still burning in my chest, still there enough that I couldn’t stop thinking about the awful things I’d said to my family.
“There we go, good girl, take a deep breath now, and let it out slowly,” Mr E was murmuring in a low voice as he held me, still caressing my hair with a light touch.
For some reason, his words, his calm, his peaceful aura, they all worked together to help me breathe more easily as the hiccupy sounds dissipated.
“Can you talk now? It’s okay if not. I’m not in a rush, so just relax.” For a moment I thought I heard the bedroom door, but nobody spoke and his posture didn’t change at all, so I must have imagined it.
I wanted to speak, and I didn’t, because if I spoke, it’d break this spell, it’d put those boundaries back between us, and the one person who’d offered me a comforting touch since my early teens would push me away again.
“Em? Talk to me, and we can stay like this if it’s easier,” he whispered softly. Why did it feel so right? Why did it feel like he was the balm for my soul? The one who could make the pain go away, who would make the world feel brighter again.
“I was horrible,” I finally whispered back, and he hesitated for a second, before he resumed stroking my hair.
“It sounds like you had some anger to let out, and that was the best place for it to happen, Em.”
If not for the awful things I’d said, I’d agree with him.
“My parents didn’t deserve the things I said, Mr E.”
“Ethan.”
I lifted my head, his fingers still against the back of it.
“Huh?”
He quirked a small grin. “My name’s Ethan. It just seems weird for you to call me Mr E right now, but I’ll absolutely insist on it after today.”
I liked his grin, just like I liked his smiles, because they were always genuine, and warm, and not at all creepy like other men seemed to be.
“Ethan. I like it, I mean, it suits you.” That was dumb. I sounded brainless, but then he knew me, and he knew I had my dim moments.
“How did they react? I mean, your dad seemed a little tired when he answered the door, but not upset.”
“Must have been dad Dory then. Dad Gray was pissed.”
“Em.” Oh, swearing. I lowered my eyes.
“Sorry, Mr… uh… Ethan.” His smile was my reward, and it warmed me from the inside. Who knew a smile could lift that chill that seemed to be permanently settled in my chest, in my heart.
