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"Just trust me," he goes on. "Let me take care of you."
"I can take care of myself," I manage weakly.
"I know you can." Dexter's voice is shockingly sweet. It actually sounds like he wants to help me. "But sometimes you need to let people in so they can make things a little easier for you, okay? I just want to help."
"You'll forgive me if I'm cautious," I spit out. "I don't think I should trust you. All you've done since I've been here is try and make me miserable."
He's silent on the other end again, then finally, he speaks up again. "I promise I'll make things right, Pandora."
"You better."
"How can I help you now?" To see Dexter fucking Booth this eager to help me is a win in itself, but do I really want his help? It's something I have yet to decide on.
"I just want to rest," I whisper. "I'm tired as fuck. And I can't fall asleep."
"Why?"
"What do you think?" I cry out. "Because of what they did to me, Dexter... Because of what your fucking friends made me go through!" I feel the traitorous burn of tears in my eyes, and now I'm grateful Dexter isn't in the same room so he can't witness my breakdown. I hate people seeing me get weak. I want to be strong. Always.
"Let me help you sleep," Dexter speaks up. "Just listen to me and lie down, get comfortable."
"Your voice isn't that calming," I groan, but still, I get comfortable in my bed surrounded by fluffy pillows. I don't tell Dexter the reason his voice isn't calming is because it still makes my heart race and my pussy ache, despite everything that's happened. I don't want him to know that. He'd be too fucking proud of himself, and I don't want to feed his damn ego. "But fine, let's try it. Work your magic."
"Just imagine I'm there next to you." His voice is rough, strained with emotion. "Lying next to you in bed. Can you do that for me?”
"Yeah," I whisper.
"Good girl." Still, the two little words send a shiver of excitement through my body. "Close your eyes for me. Imagine I'm there - or if not me, someone that could comfort you. Maybe your sister?"
My bottom lip wobbles at the mention of Andie. I miss her so much it fucking hurts. "Okay," I manage to get out.
"I'd hold you so tight right now, Pandora," Dexter mutters. "I'd hold you right against my chest and whisper in your ear that everything's going to be okay. That I'm going to take care of you. That I'll make sure they pay for what they did to you. Can you imagine it for me? My arms around you. My lips against your forehead. Just holding you and telling you everything's going to be okay."
"Yes." My eyes are getting heavy. His words are actually helping, though I'll never admit it. "Keep going, Dexter... please."
If he's surprised that I asked him to keep going, he doesn't show it. Instead, he keeps talking to me in low, calming tones, and they slowly lull me to sleep. My eyes close with the phone still pressed against my ear, and when I wake up hours later, the call is over, and I'm all alone in the darkness.
3
Pandora
I drag myself out of bed the next morning, groaning when I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look like I’ve been dragged through the mud.
A long, hot shower makes me feel marginally better, and I draw out the time spent in my bathroom, scrubbing myself down until my skin is burning. It's time for another family breakfast, one I'm dreading, because I know it's going to change the course of my life. Father already threatened to take away my Firstborn privileges before, and I have a feeling I won't be able to convince him to keep this secret.
Getting dressed in a simple white dress and black tights, I slowly make my way downstairs. I'm the first one at the breakfast table, and I slide into a chair silently, my eyes glued to the plate in front of me.
The others walk in without saying a word to me. Tatianna, beautiful and somewhere far away in her thoughts. Bryony, who pays no mind to me and places a single wedge of orange on her breakfast plate from the massive selection before us. I guess that's her breakfast.
Father and Brazen walk in together, deep in a discussion I'd rather not hear. We are all there now, and we pile our plates and dig into breakfast. The feeling of dread in my tummy won't go away though, and I shiver thinking about what Father will do next. I don't have to wait for long. Not even ten minutes into the meal, he clears his throat and says my name in his authoritative voice that leaves no room for arguing.
I look up at him, eyes wide and pleading with him to have some mercy for me, even though I know it's hopeless. His own gaze is harsh and unrelenting, and he begins speaking without so much as asking me how I'm feeling after last night.
"I've come to the conclusion that I cannot keep forgiving you for your transgressions," Father says. "I've done it for long enough, and all it's done is enable you. It's time you became a proper member of this family. I don't make excuses for my children, and I have been going easy on you since yo
u came back."
I'm tempted to laugh out loud, but his serious expression stops me in my tracks. Best not feed with the beast.
