It belonged on him.
He was the one who had found Maya, he was the one who had taken on the responsibility for supporting her, and had been building a bond with her. He was the one who had messed up in handling her.
“You have to stop doing that,” Lion said as the five of them came to join him on the hall floor.
“Stop doing what? Watching her? Don’t think I can.” If this was as close to her as he could get right now, then he wasn't moving a single step further away.
“Managing her,” Lion clarified. “She’s not a project.”
“She needs help, support.”
“Help and support don’t mean managing her,” Voodoo said gently.
“Despite everything, she’s still standing,” Steel added.
“Because she’s stronger than she realizes,” Blade said.
“She feels so far away,” he admitted. The worst part was that he didn't know how to bridge that distance. He didn't want to admit that it was impossible, but it damn sure felt like it was.
“But she’s not,” Dragon said simply, turning to look at the woman in question, still painting away, her pace frenetic. Lost to what she was doing, seemingly unaware that they were all out there, watching her, talking about her.
Maybe she was there in that room, but she wasn't reallythere.
“She’s angry,” Dragon said, stating the obvious.
Anger filled the room, spilling out into the hallway, seeping into the rest of the house.
“She has every right to be angry,” he said, his gaze settling on Maya as she swept her arm backward and forward, making large swipes on her canvas.
“We all know anger,” Dragon continued. “It’s the one thing that links us all.”
“You're saying I should connect with her through anger?” That felt wrong, abusive almost. For thirteen years, Maya had been taking the brunt of other people’s anger. She was a sex slave, her body used and abused to the point where mentally checking out was her only option. To capitalize on her rage felt like adding another layer of trauma on top of so many others.
“I'm saying you should meet her where she is instead of trying to decide where she should be,” Dragon corrected.
Was that what he had been doing? Trying to decide what Maya should be feeling? The last thing he wanted to be was just another man to control her.
Maybe he should do what Dragon suggested. Maybe he should take a step back and embrace what Maya was feelingright now, reinforce that not only were her feelings valid, but she had every right in the world to express them.
Express them any way she wanted, she didn't have to limit herself to painting. If she needed to scream at him, rage about the unfairness of what had been done to her, and what was still being done to her, he would happily stand there and take every drop of her anger.
March 4th
2:49 A.M.
Exhaustion clung to every inch of her body, weighing her down.
But she couldn’t stop.
It didn’t matter how heavy her limbs were, how uncoordinated her movements had become, the only thing keeping her sane was filling canvas after canvas with the dark emotions swirling inside her.
Maya knew she needed a break, knew she had to give her body time to rest, but what would happen to her if she stopped?
Would she fall apart?
Would she give in to the voice whispering inside her head that death was better than a lifetime of captivity?
It wasn't that she thought Thunder and his team were going to keep her locked up forever. Maya knew they weren't. Her anger and fears when it came to Thunder were more to do with him throwing her away like used garbage than keeping her.
