Page 50 of Depraved

He captures my hand and presses my palm to his chest, directly over his heart.

“Always,” he repeats, a deep vow.

I can’t suppress a shudder—something between yearning and vicious, cautious hope.

“Are you still scared?” he murmurs. “Will you dance for me?”

That flutter of fear makes my heart race again. “I don’t know if I can.”

He takes a step into the room, keeping my hand caged so he can lead me into the studio.

“Then let me play for you.”

My apprehension finally ebbs enough that I notice the grand piano in the corner.

“You still play? After everything Shirley and Charlie put us through?”

He sits on the bench and arranges my body beside his, so we’re still touching even as he uncovers the keys.

“I don’t think about our abusers when I play. I think about you dancing for me. It was never for them, never for the prestige they wanted from us. This was always for you.”

My breath hitches.

All I remember is pain and trauma, but Brandon finds beauty in the arts that bonded us.

And when the first, bittersweet notes soar through the studio, my heart twists with agonized desire.

He plays fearlessly, untouched by the cruelty of our tormented childhood. Our foster parents couldn’t beat this out of him. He still has his passion and skill.

I rest my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head, not wavering in his song.

We linger in that space for long, painful minutes. With each note, the walls around my heart crumble a little bit more, until I’m raw and exposed and aching.

He flows into a second song, more powerful and passionate.

Nothing has diminished his fierce spirit, his bold tenacity. Not the cruel abuse, and not the horrific years that separated us.

I’ve been a coward. All this time, I’ve let Shirley win. I let her take something I loved from me.

Brandon is so much stronger than I am.

He keeps saying he’s not worthy of me, but I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him. He seems to have forgiven me for leaving him for dead.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to atone for what I did to him, but I can try to match his strength.

He wants me to dance. It’s the least I can do for him.

And I’ll do it for myself, too.

My cruel foster parents won’t take one more thing from me. They’re dead.

Brandon made sure they can never victimize another child.

They can never harm us.

I’m done shuddering at memories of my tormentors.

They’re nothing but ghosts now, and I don’t have to let them haunt me.