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“Good morning,” I said.
“Good…morning…”
“How are you feeling?”
Her forehead creased and she looked deep in thought. “I don’t know. Weird. My head hurts.”
Ayla brought her hand up but she winced again. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bandages wrapped around her arms. She froze, her hand still in the air over her face.
“Do you remember?” I asked, leaning forward.
She was silent for a few seconds and then nodded, slowly and cautiously.
“Ayla, why did you do it?” I tried to keep my voice soft, making sure that I didn’t spook her with my questions.
But she didn’t answer.
She sighed and her hand fell back down on the mattress. Her gaze moved to the ceiling again and she purposely avoided eye contact with me.
“If you don’t talk to us, we can’t help you, Ayla. And we want to help,” I whispered. “Say something,” I begged when she didn’t answer.
It was like I wasn’t even there anymore.
I moved my hand so that it laid next to hers, our fingers resting mere inches apart.
“Ayla.” Sucking a deep breath in, I tried to calm my rapid beating heart. “I can assume what happened. I can guess. But I don’t want to assume. I want to hear the real truth from you. Say something. Anything.”
No words were uttered from her.
Nothing.
She stayed stubbornly silent.
I rubbed my other hand tiredly over my face and pinched the bridge of my nose before blowing out a frustrated breath.
This was harder than I thought.
After a few minutes of utter silence between us, I leaned closer. “You are worth more than you think,” I whispered softly, hoping that the words would have some effect on her. “You bring happiness to others. You bring light, Ayla. You have people who care about you. People who want to help. Let us help.”
But she didn’t react. Her body stayed rigid as she continued to stare at the ceiling, almost unflinching.
I hated the unfairness that Ayla had to go through. I wanted to know the truth. No, I was desperate for the truth. I needed to know who she was and who the fuck hurt her.
I looked down at our hands. They were next to each other but not touching. I inched my fingers closer to hers, feeling the heavy tension and anguish rolling off her in waves.
“Can I touch you?” I asked.
I shifted my gaze up just in time to see her eyes widening in shock at my question. “Can I hold your hand?” I murmured, wanting another reaction from her.
But Ayla stayed silent. Her green eyes lost focus again. If it was possible, she grew even more tense and I started to worry if I had pushed too hard, too fast.
Rather than answering, Ayla slowly moved her hand. But she didn’t move toward me. Instead, she took her hand away and placed it over her stomach.
That was all the answer I got. But it spoke volumes.
She was shutting down and refusing any comfort.
I blew out a sharp breath and then sighed as I stood up. “I just want you to know that you are loved. You matter. To Maddie. To Lena.” I paused and swallowed hard. And to me. But I didn’t say it out loud.
Silence.
Ayla closed her eyes, effectively shutting me out. She was reclusive. Unresponsive.
I stared at her one last time before turning around and walking away. Each step I took away from her was painful but I forced myself to take them.
She needed time alone. To think and to come to terms with what happened. But I just hoped that she heard the words I said.
Because they were the truth.
Chapter 34
Ayla
The night before felt like a blur. I was ashamed that Alessio and the others had found me this way. They had to see me in my moment of weakness.
Alessio continued to ask me questions. He coaxed me to reveal the truth. His words felt like they were coming under water and my body felt like it was floating.
He begged. He cajoled. He sounded desperate. He told me I was worth more than I thought, yet I couldn’t bring myself to respond.
He was wrong. I was worth nothing. I was a whore. Dirty. Used. I was just an empty vessel.
His words hurt because he was lying.
I wanted to scream. I hated him. Stop lying, please. My heart was aching. It hurt so much. I didn’t bring happiness. I was not light. I was darkness. Nobody cared. I was on my own.
Alessio bent closer and I felt his warmth next to my hand that laid on the bed. His hand was close to mine. So close yet not touching.
“Can I touch you?”
I went rigid. No. He couldn’t touch me. I didn’t think I could bear a man’s touch at that moment. Or anyone’s touch.
It felt like I would crumble and fade away in the air.
