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“Aziah?” she whispers softly.
“I’m here,” I rumble just as gently.
She lets out a long breath. “I’m scared.”
Way too many emotions slam into me, but there’s one that stands out the most.
“I promise no one or nothing will ever hurt you again.” I give that vow with cold certainty. There’s not a damn thing that will stop me from protecting Rella with everything I am.
“I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head slowly. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was just a nightmare. I have them a lot.”
Her words don’t appease me. If anything, they make my guilt and anger grow. Is she dreaming about the times my father forced me to touch her, or the years she spent with Marco and Gabriella?
My palms tingle, and the key in my pocket beckons me to use it to distract myself from the pain building in my chest.
“Are you okay now?”
She licks her lips and gives a small nod. “I think so.”
When I take a step back, her eyes widen again.
“Please don’t go,” she cries anxiously.
There’s no way I can deny her in this state. Hell, I don’t think I could ever deny her anything.
“Let me grab the chair, and I’ll bring it to the bed.”
I grab the chair and bring it to the bed, still keeping a couple of feet between us. When my ass hits the chair, I hear her long exhale.
She’s turned on her side, both of her hands tucked under her cheek. Her sleepy eyes continue to watch me.
“Thank you,” she whispers in the dark.
“Don’t ever thank me for something like this. It’s the least I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Aziah.”
I scowl, but my back is to the moonlight coming in through the window, so she can’t see the look.
“I owe you everything, but there’s nothing that will ever be enough,” I reply quietly.
She sighs, her eyes drifting closed, a pinch of something uncomfortable forming on her face. She doesn’t say anything else, but I can tell she wants to.
A few minutes later, her breathing evens out and she’s asleep once again.
As I sit there and watch her sleep, my own eyes becoming heavy, I pray I don’t wake up tomorrow and find this is all a dream. And if it is a dream, I hope I don’t wake up at all.
CHAPTER SIX
EMO
The Past
I’M ON MY KNEES IN FRONT of the toilet, puking my brains out so hard that my throat’s raw and my head feels like it’s going to explode. Even after everything I’ve eaten today has come up, I still spew up liquid yellow stuff. Then after that, I just sit there and gag and gag.
My father and I just got back from Hell Night. I wanted to kill him. I’m only eight years old, and I wanted to use one of our kitchen knives and stab and cut him until all the blood in his body drained onto the floor. I’ve never hated someone so much as I hate my father for making me do what I did tonight.
