Page 23 of Brutal Knight

I feel someone near me and realize dimly that it’s Connor untying me, but in this moment, all I know is that there’s a body to cling to.

Despite the horror of the dream and the memories it brought up, I have to hold on to something, someone, to remind myself I’m in the present. I have to remind myself that Dmitri is gone and the nightmares, as horrific as they are, are just that. Nightmares.

Connor talks to me. I don’t know what he’s saying. My brain feels like it’s on fire, the fear in my chest still too present.

But his voice is deep and soothing, and I can’t help feeling better.

His presence isn’t like Dmitri or my father. He doesn’t suffocate me, doesn’t shove me down. He just holds me like he’s keeping my pieces from flying apart.

I don’t know how long he stays with me. I just know that the moment passes at some point, and when I’m alone again, a part of me wants him to come back and hold me longer.

I’m in and out of it. Connor brings me food every day and guides me to the bathroom. He’s present but not pushing, never forcing me to talk.

He tries to help me wash up one day, but when he does, panic spikes through me. I shove him away, my breath coming in bursts and gasps. I start to say no, but he’s already given up and backed away.

It doesn’t matter that I wanted him to comfort me. All the want in the world can’t change the instinct I get when he’s too close, too intimate. Everything in my body screams at me to fight, to run.

I appreciate that he backs away, but I don’t know how long his goodwill will last.

It takes a good fifteen minutes for me to loosen up enough to let him near.

The rest of my time is a blur of pain, a pounding in my skull and the stabbing need I can’t get rid of.

It takes a hazy week for me to emerge from the worst part. For the first time, I wake up and have a clear head. The worst of the symptoms are gone.

And I’m not tied to the bed.

It all feels like a fever dream. I rub my wrists, uncertain, and look around the room. It looks lighter, different. I almost wonder if it’s the same room I’ve been in.

I carefully roll off the bed. My body feels worn out and ragged, like I’ve been running a marathon every day, but all my limbs are working. I run a hand through my hair, and my nose wrinkles at the oil I feel. I can tell I’m grimy, like I’ve been sweating out the flu in the same bed for days.

Beyond that, I still feel self-conscious. Part of me wonders if I said or did something while I was detoxing. I remember bits and pieces, vaguely. I remember clinging to Connor, but that’s fuzzy. I hope it’s not real.

God, I feel like shit.

I haven’t showered in so long. I feel gross. There are towels in the bathroom, so I decide I might as well. The hot water feels like heaven on my skin, my hair so much better once I shampoo it. It feels a little like I’m washing away the grime of another life.

When I’m done, I find clothes in the closet. I’m not sure if they were meant for me or if they’ve always been here, but there’s no way I’m going to stay wrapped in just a towel, so I get dressed quickly.

Once I’m fully dressed, I turn to stare at the bedroom door.

Is Connor out there, somewhere in the rest of the house? Has he realized that I’m awake and moving around?

What happens now?

CHAPTER8

Connor

When I hear the shower start, I know Willow is up. Although I stay where I am, I’m half-listening, ensuring there are no issues.

It’s been just over a week since the day I came home and found her passed out on the bed after taking the rest of her pills. With every day that’s passed, I’ve felt less anger toward her. Less resentment for what she did. Seeing her get sober firsthand is painful.

I know she’s not stupid. She’s clever—smart enough to escape twice already, smart enough to stay alive under Dmitri’s rule. She’s not an idiot. She knew when she started doing drugs what could happen, and she knew what it would be like to get sober.

But despite that, she still turned to drugs to survive. To make it through a nightmare of a life.

Seeing her suffer through her memories all over again is sobering. I don’t know the details, but I know it must be horrific. That much is obvious every time she wakes up screaming from a nightmare, every time she curls into herself on the bed and starts to sob.

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