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“Nay,” I say in a calming tone since I don’t want to cause her to go scared again. “But to stay on the safe side, you have to promise me one thing.”
“What is it?” she whispers.
“That you will always stay close to me. No matter what happens. It is crucial that you do that. Do you understand?”
Swallowing, she nods and there’s a tremble in her body that I don’t like. Still, it eases me that she promised and I know that as long as she stays close, nothing will ever happen to her. It is baffling to me, how many police officers hesitate to use their bodies as shields to save a victim but I have never been like that.
And that instinct to protect is ten times as strong with Melody.
On our way home she is silent and I try to distract her by telling her some of the funny stories that get exchanged at the office but it is apparent that I’m a lousy comedian, because Melody doesn’t laugh once.
She doesn’t even smile, her forehead deep set and when we enter the house, she walks into the living room, staring out the large windows as if she’s expecting an attack any time now.
“Love...” I say in a low voice and she jerks, turning to look at me and her eyes are big in her face. Slowly lowering her shoulders, she nods.
“I know,” she murmurs, “I shouldn’t let him get to me like that.” Her brows furrow even more. “Or her.” Shivering, she does a shaky little move with her whole body as if she’s trying to shake off all the bad, before adding. “And I won’t. From now on, I’ll just stay glued by your side.”
Good. Then hopefully we won’t have any more incidents.
But she still looks too worked up for my taste and I feel that I need to fix this. Pulling a hand through my hair, I try, “How about I go upstairs and run you a bath?”
To my relief, her eyes light up a little and she nods. “Yes, please.” Nodding, I turn, hurrying upstairs even though I know it is stupid because we are in the comfort of my home but I still only turn on the tap before walking down again.
She’s sitting on a chair by the window and the dark is slowly falling outside and she turns her head to me, looking like she wants something.
“What?” I ask and she bites her lip.
“Do you mind if we go out into the garden for a little while? I want to see the stars.”
I get it. You can’t see the stars in the city, so I nod and we walk out of the backdoor into the garden and Melody takes her place among the bristly bushes that my mother halfheartedly planted and that now mostly consist of weed but she doesn’t seem to mind.
Bending her neck far back, so that she looks straight up, she takes a deep breath. “Stars tell stories, you know,” she says and I nod, but I am not looking at them. I’m looking at her because she if far more fascinating and celestial to me than anything else on this earth. Moving her head down, she turns to me, whispering, “And I think it’s time that you tell me yours.”
15
Melody
My heart seems to beat so loud that I can hear it and I wrap my armsaround me, watching Callan carefully and I’m expecting him to come up with some excuse like always but to my surprise, he exhales, looking wary.
“I suppose I do owe you an explanation,” he rasps, his voice even deeper than usual, “but I do not want you to fear me. Or think that I could ever hurt you.”
Swallowing, I nod and it seems to get colder by the second now or maybe it is just my blood stilling in my veins, but I brace myself, firmly looking Callan in the eyes. “Tell me,” I whisper and he clears his throat, moving his hand up to his scars and rubs it but he’s not gentle like I would be.
“When you asked me who did this to me, I told you that I did it to myself but that’s not the whole truth.”
I nod softly. “Then what is?”
Looking into the woods, he says, “You know that I lived in this house together with my mother and stepdad but we were not a family. My stepdad was very cruel, especially to my mother.” Breathing out, he adds, “One day I overheard him saying something stupid and I started laughing at him. I was only a mere boy, nine years old but that didn’t stop him from taking a knife and shove it into my hands.”
Gasping, I put my hand on Callan’s arm. “No, don’t tell me...”
“He grabbed my mother and told me that he was going to kill her if I didn’t make my smile permanent.”
A hoarse whimper exhales from my throat and Callan’s focus goes fully to me as if I’m the one in need of comfort. Always so attentive to me and never as attentive to himself.
“When people saw my face, he managed to convince everyone that I was a lunatic in the making and they believed him. My mother refused to divorce him and one day when I was twelve I had enough. I grabbed his gun and shot him in the back of the head while he was standing by the sink and mixing water into his vodka.”
Callan looks down at his big hands. “My mother put in a good word for me and I only got some time in a detention center but ever since then, this whole town has treated me like I should be on death row.”
