Page 24 of Brutal Knight

I don’t know what to think about her anymore. I didn’t know what I was taking on when I let her in. But I don’t regret it.

She comes down the stairs slowly, so quiet I almost don’t hear her. I keep my back turned. I want to give her the advantage of seeing me first. I know she’s probably felt at a disadvantage this whole time.

When I finally turn around, I can’t speak for a second.

She really is beautiful. I’ve always known it, but I’ve never stopped to really look. Now that she’s cleaned up and sober, it’s even more obvious.

Her hair is dark, almost black. Her curls shine under the kitchen lights, softly falling over her shoulders. Even despite her obvious nervousness, there’s something hopeful about her blue-gray eyes, like the sky in spring before it rains.

Besides that, she really fits her name. Willow is slight and lithe. It reminds me of some of Violet’s ballerina friends. She holds herself carefully, poised, like she’s used to being watched. I hate thinking of Dmitri being the one with his eyes on her. It’s obvious that she’s worth seeing, is so beautiful, and he didn’t fucking deserve her.

I can’t imagine what he did to her. All her nightmares are just a glimpse of what I’m sure she’s been through. I almost can’t believe she’s standing in front of me now, intact. As hurt and scarred as she is, she’s alive. She’s present.

But I know she doesn’t trust me. Not entirely.

This is dangerous. Willow is on edge. Talking to her feels like luring a wild animal in to eat from my hand.

I keep my voice neutral and say the only thing I can think of.

“Hello.”

Willow’s hands flex. I wonder if she notices the way she almost clenches them, then lets go.

“Hi.”

I gesture to a chair. I don’t say anything. It takes a minute, but she sits at the island near me. I let her settle for a few minutes, then venture to say something again.

“So, how do you feel?”

Willow laughs nervously. “Oh. Well, it’s…all right. I guess I feel tired.”

She rubs her arms like she’s cold, but it looks more like she’s comforting herself. Like she has to work up the courage to be around me.

I know better than to take it personally, but I can’t help wondering if it’ll always be this way. I don’t want it to. But I don’t really have a say in it.

“I’m sure.” I lean back against the counter and face her. “It’s been rough. I can only imagine.”

She blushes a little. The color looks good on her, makes her face less pale and drawn. I find myself hoping it happens more.

“I’m sure it was a lot to handle. I’m—”

“You were suffering,” I reply, interrupting. I don’t want to hear an apology. Not when I know it wasn’t really her fault.

Still, I’m not sure how much of this is true sobriety and how much is her wanting a fix at all costs. I want to trust her, but I’m not sure if Willow is truly ready to be done.

This seems like progress, but seeing Finn swing back and forth between sobriety and drunkenness has taught me that sometimes it’s just an act, and sometimes it’s just a moment of peace before the storm. Maybe she really is sober for good. Or maybe she’s sober for now, while she’s detoxed from enough pain.

I don’t want her memories and trauma to come back and find her again. I don’t want her to fall right back to drugs because of it. But I know it’s not my place, not my choice. I can’t predict anything. I can’t stop the memories from coming back.

All I can do is try to keep her sober.

She nods to herself. There’s a distant look in her eyes, clouded over by some memory. I want to ask what she’s thinking, but I don’t want to shatter this moment. The interaction we’re having feels almost normal.

“I’ve…been on pills for a while,” she finally admits. “It’s been years.”

“I didn’t know.”

Willow nods. “I got clean once before, you know. It just…didn’t last.”

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