Page 26 of Nyx
You’re safe.
Well-meaning, with a world of good intentions behind them, butheavy.They place the burden of acceptance on his narrow, beaten-down shoulders. The responsibility is his—to believe them, trust them, when he has no way to understand them.
Hecan’tunderstand them because they aren’t true.
Heisn’tsafe.
Not from his past, or the horrors that haunt his mind, or the uncertain future he couldn’t possibly imagine after a lifetime of confinement. They’re empty words with good intentions, and those sometimes cut the deepest.
“It’s alright to be scared,” I say instead of offering him a blanket reassurance, and he blinks up at me in surprise. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. It’s valid, and you never need to apologize for that.”
“Everyone else is so brave—”
“Everyone else is scared, too,” I interrupt, and his eyes widen further. “Some are better at hiding it than others, but we’re all terrified of what might happen in the future, because we can’t plan for it.”
“You are not scared,” he argues, wrinkling his nose in a way that makes my expression soften.
“Oh, I am. I always have been.” His eyes beg for more, so I answer the unasked question. “Every day I was alone in that camp, I believed it was my punishment for notfighting. That it was my penance—my burden to bear. Because maybe, just maybe, if I hadn’t been so scared, if I hadn’t been paralyzed… it could’ve made the difference.”
“Paralyzed?” he asks, sounding out the word.
“It means… frozen. Unable to move because you’re too afraid that something horrible will happen if you take a single step, so you just stand in place.”
A deep sense of understanding crosses his face as we look at each other, and the moment stretches but never becomes uncomfortable. “Paralyzed,” he whispers, and I nod as another of those urges to touch him makes my fingers squeeze against my clothes.
“Yes,” I answer on a breath, and he takes an inhale, steadier than before. Like my admission gave him the boost he needed.
Like we’re not that different.
“I am paralyzed,” he says, and my heart breaks further at the surety in his tone.
“Yeah,” I respond, my voice thick. “Me too.”
“But…” He trails off in that thoughtful way he does when he’s finding his words. “I want to share with you,” he says again, more decisively this time. “And… if you want… you could share with me, too.”
A strangled, breathy laugh chokes from my throat as I realize he’s offering me comfort. Nyx, a lifelong prisoner who carries a history none of us could ever understand… he comforts me.
I surrender, then.
Any fight left in my body, any resistance that warned me not to fall for him, is shattered in that moment. It’sripped apart, obliterated into a million tiny pieces, and I’m left with no defenses.
“I would like that,” I manage to say through my closed throat. This time, his smile spreads further, like his mouth finally remembers what it’s supposed to do. It’s sunshine and radiance, and for the fleeting moment it’s there, every pound of pain vanishes from his face and leaves him bright and beautiful. It erases the history that turned him hard, and offers me a glimpse of who he was meant to be, before this world stole it.
“Me too,” he says, and that momentary smile fades, but its memory remains.
“Why don’t we eat alone together tonight… a little closer to the others?” I ask, and even though my question makes no sense to an outsider, he nods.
“I think… this is a good idea.”
“We’re both filthy,” I say, gesturing at our dirty clothes and skin as I compose myself. “Get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you here. We’ll go together and find somewhere to sit. Close enough for us to listen, but far enough away that we don’t have to talk if we don’t want to.”
He agrees with a subtle nod of his head, and as we part to wash for dinner, my feet move like they aren’t stuck in the mud for the first time in years.
Maybe I don’t have to be paralyzed, either.
Nyx
Myfistclenchesatmy side as I stand before Reyes’s door. He has always come to me, and I have always waited. I’ve watched him pass my window while hoping he’ll stop, only to be disappointed those times when he doesn’t. I could go to him—wantto go to him—but I haven’t had enough courage to take those steps. Today, though, I have something to share.
