Page 27 of Finding Noah

The fear lived with me. The images I'd seen after walking into the house played on repeat in my head whether I asked them to or not.

Mom knew something was wrong. She could tell, and I think Soldier could too.

But I didn't say anything. Not to them, not to anyone.

Talking meant to relive it, and reliving it would make me cry and feel things I didn't want to feel.

So, I stayed quiet.

I went to school and played my video games. I spoke when spoken to and very little otherwise.

I caught Mom glancing at Soldier from time to time and him glancing at her. Mom even asked once if I thought I wanted to see someone, a doctor or something—like Mark from years ago. I didn't want to, but I’d told her I'd think about it, just to make her go away and shut up.

Because, like I said, talking meant to relive it.

I didn't want to relive it. I just wanted it to go away, even though I knew it wouldn't. Not as long as there was a chance it could happen again.

Trying to sleep was the worst thing of all.

After Dad had broken into our house, busting the door and shattering everything—including the happy bubble the three of us had found ourselves in—Mom and I moved into Soldier's house.

I had gotten my wish, and yet I couldn't find a way to be happy about it.

They—Mom and Soldier—kept saying it was temporary, until our house was fixed and cleaned up, but I didn't want it to be. I had a room here, and although I couldn't seem to sleep easily, no matter where I was, I was able to at least drop my guard and close my eyes when Soldier was in the room next door to mine.

He was going to save us.

I thought I'd known it all along, from the moment I’d laid eyes on him through the living room window, but I knew it even more now.

I’d never been more certain of anything in my life.

***

A crash of thunder startled me from dozing off. My eyes snapped open to the darkness of my bedroom in Soldier's house, and I held my breath, listening to the nighttime noises.

The pattering of rain on the roof.

The dripping against the window beside my bed.

The whirring, grinding sound of the refrigerator's ice maker.

The thumping of my heart, hammering against the inner walls of my chest.

Nothing else, nothing more.

Mom and Soldier must've been asleep. Eleven must've been too. Sometimes, he zipped around the house late at night, racing up and down the hallway and chasing the little jingling balls Soldier's friend Harry had brought over for him. Not tonight though. Everything was still and calm, except for the jittery sound of my heartbeat.

With a sigh, I knew I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon, and quietly, I rolled out of my bed and tiptoed from my room.

I didn't like to sleep with my door closed, so I peered through the crack to look down the dark hallway.

Mom and Soldier's door was closed, confirming my suspicions that they were asleep—or doing things.

Like what Dad did to her.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gave my head a quick shake, chasing the thought away, only for the image of her bloodied face to flash across my mind, and I snapped my eyes back open.

With a shaky exhale, I left my room and tiptoed down the hall quickly toward the living room, where Eleven was sleeping peacefully on the couch. When I sat beside him, he jerked his head up, letting out a startled purr before rolling over and leaning his weight against my thigh.