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I reach out and grab the key from the shelf, leaving my palm open so I can stare down at it.
Image after image of our intertwined childhood flashes in my mind. The pain and fear in Rella’s eyes every time I was forced to touch her. The disgust, loathing, and remorse I felt before, during, and after. The pure hatred I held for my father.
Taking my other hand from the wall, I grip the rounded head of the key and set the teeth against the flesh midway up my forearm.
Another image slams into me. The one of finding Rella in the gazebo, her white flowered dressed stained with blood, her face pale and deathly looking. Seeing her small lifeless body hurt more than anything ever had up to that point in my life, and nothing has ever come close to it since then.
After we found Rella’s body, I went looking for my father and found him at the lodge. I had every intention of killing him. Unfortunately, he sensed my mood and knew what I intended to do. I was too small and a lot weaker than him. Before I got the chance to stab him with the knife I had stuffed in my pocket, he clocked me across the cheek, knocking me out. When I woke up, I realized I needed to be more careful and plan my attack. I also wanted to take my time destroying him. That was a few days before the note about the raid came, which stopped my plans.
My father was a high member of the Council, so he knew all the secrets Sweet Haven carried. Now I wonder if he knew that Rella didn’t die that day. If he knew where she was sent.
Thinking about where she was the first fourteen years after she was taken from Sweet Haven, what she endured after already living a horrific and painful childhood the first ten years of her life, has my blood turning to lava and red filling my vision.
I dig the key into my flesh, slowly puncturing the skin. I ball
my hand into a fist, making the muscle tense and giving the key something firmer to break into. My brothers worry I’ll eventually hit the wrong vein and bleed out. What they don’t realize is that if I wanted to hit a major artery, I would have already. Being a medical examiner, I know what spots on my arm to avoid and how deep I can safely go. There’s been a few times I’ve purposely hit a prominent vein, watched the blood rush from my body, and known if I didn’t stop it, I’d fade away. At the last minute, while I still had the strength, I staunched the flow and stitched myself up. Not because I was a coward and was scared of dying, but because there were things I still needed to do in my life.
I watch as the blood seeps from the two-inch gash on my arm, mixing with water and rushing down the drain. Guilt penetrates my conscience. Earlier, when Rella came upstairs for her nap and Trouble asked me to stay behind with him, he made me promise to not hurt myself while I was here. He worried if Rella saw any fresh wounds, she may become upset. At the time, I gave him what he wanted and fully intended to keep my promise. I never go back on my word once I give it, but right now, with my head full of the things I did to Rella and my imagination running wild with what else she’s been through, it’s either do this or crawl out of my skin. I feel like I’m on the edge of losing my fucking mind.
Right beside the strip of jagged skin, I make another uneven line with the key. It hurts like a bitch, but feels so damn good at the same time. I drop my arm to my side, letting the blood drip from my fingers.
I stay under the spray for a few more moments, my shoulders rising and falling as I take in steady, deep breaths. Slapping the dial in front of me to turn off the shower, I step out and dry myself off. I slather some ointment on my wounds, wrap my arm with gauze, and get dressed. My long-sleeved black shirt ensures no one will see the gashes.
I don’t breathe easy again until I spot Rella’s sleeping form huddled underneath the covers. I waited until she was asleep to take a shower, and even then, it was hard to have her out of my sight.
The room is dark, but I have no trouble finding the chair in the corner. Not wanting to wake her, I take light steps across the room. I like that she’s turned toward me so I can see her face.
Just as I’m about to take a seat, Rella lets out a low moan. I freeze, my eyes locking on hers. They’re still closed. There’s just enough light from the moon to see the frown forming between them.
She moans again, this one sounding painful. The hand on her pillow balls into a fist, and her legs scissor back and forth.
“Please stop,” she whimpers softly.
I walk across the room slowly and stop a couple feet away, my anxiety of hearing her moans making my insides tighten.
Just as I come to a stop beside the bed, Rella’s whimpers turns into low sobs. Tears glisten on her cheeks.
“It’s hurts,” she sobs. Her knees draw up to her chest and she huddles into herself. “Oh God, please don’t. Please. It hurts too much.”
My head throbs and my chest feels like there’s a huge weight sitting on top of it. Rella’s face crumbles into a mask of unbearable agony. Whatever’s in her dream holds her prisoner and is slowly torturing her. Watching it sends excruciating pain through me.
All of a sudden, she rolls to her back, her hands lashing out in front of her as if she’s trying to push someone away. Her legs kick underneath the covers, and her body thrashes back and forth.
“No!” she yells tearfully. “Stop!”
“Rella!” I call her name, unable to hear her cries anymore.
As soon as the a rolls off my tongue, her eyes snap open, locking immediately on mine.
It’s a punch to the gut. During her dream, she was scared, but now, the look in her eyes says she’s terrified.
She scrambles back on the bed until she hits the headboard. The blanket is tugged up to her chin, and she rocks back and forth with her arms wrapped tightly around her raised knees. Her eyes are so wide with fright I see white all around her irises.
I have no fucking clue what to do. It’s dark in the room, but still light enough that she has to know it’s me. Should I say something and let her hear my voice? Or should I keep quiet and hope she comes fully back to her senses on her own?
What I want to do is pull her into my arms. It’s a stupid thought that will only make matters worse.
Minutes pass by. I stay where I am, too worried to move, and watch her. She breathes heavily, never taking her eyes off me. Eventually, the fear begins to fade, confusion replacing it.
