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Otherwise, I’d have to deal with them.
CHAPTER
NINE
Thatcher - age 10
“What are you doing over there?”
I closed my eyes tight, trying not to flinch, trying not to cry. I said nothing, and a deep sigh came from behind me.
“You came here, didn’t you? You did, so get from over there and come here.”
I flinched, a sound behind me, movement. It wasn’t close but far away.
A ripping noise filled the room, like a scratch. It reminded me of my neighbor’s cat when I accidentally stepped on her tail. I didn’t always see Piper. She was so fast sometimes and liked to hide.
I wished I could hide now, but I didn’t. I never did. I couldn’t.
Music sounded after the scratch, a record player. I’d never seen one before, but now, I saw them all the time. They played in my head on autopilot, old music like what my gram listened to sometimes through her radio. She liked to listen to old music, but never this.
This wasn’t music. It was noise that made my stomach tight and made me want to throw up. It always played when I came here. It was so loud, and even if I cried, no one would hear. I guess that was why it played.
“Kid…” Another loud sigh, and I flinched again. I couldn’t help it.
Be brave. Be brave like Dad.
My dad wasn’t scared of anything. He was so strong. I had to be strong too. I had to be for my friends, my brothers. I couldn’t let anything bad happen to them too.
“No one’s making you be here,” a deep voice said. “Remember, this is your choice. It always is.”
I opened my eyes, then played made-up movies in my head. I liked to pretend.
If I did, it didn’t hurt so much.
CHAPTER
TEN
Aspen - the present
The music had woken me up, but then… Thatcher.
“Thatcher?” I sat up, his body quaking beside mine. We’d both fallen asleep. What time was it?
I didn’t care about the time when Thatcher hit the pillow. On his side, he forced his fist right into it. It’d been my pillow, but I obviously wasn’t there anymore since I was sitting up. My heart raced. “Thatcher, wake up.”
He wasn’t, and the noises falling from his lips sounded tortured, pained. He let out a cry that quite frankly clenched my fucking stomach, and the music was coming so loud from somewhere. Thatcher and I were still in this motel room, so it must have been next door.
My hand hovered over him, hesitant to touch him since he was shaking so much. He was such a big guy, and this was honestly scaring the shit out of me. “Thatcher, you have to wake up.”
The noise he made next was something between a strained bellow and a bloodcurdling whimper. He sounded like a small child being beaten, and I didn’t fucking play around anymore. I rocked him, terrified myself since he was so large, and I had a right to be when he snapped awake. He swung his big arms just barely missing me, and his blue eyes were so wild.
“Thatcher…” I was shaking, but he was too. He paled, his dark hair curling over his rapidly blinking eyes, and his hands gripped the bedding so hard his fists were ghost white. “Thatcher?”
His attention zoomed in my direction, his earring dangling when he turned his head. He blinked again. Like he was just now aware of himself and me sitting here.
His mouth parted as if to say something, but then he faced the wall.
