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Maggie opened the door, eager to discover what ailed Crispin. Only, when she stepped inside, nothing could’ve ever prepared her for what she met. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound poured from her lips.
The man before her wasn’t who she fell in love with, but a man set out to protect himself. The far-off gaze in his eyes scared Maggie more than the knife raised above his head, ready to attack. His gaze reflected the depths of a lost, frightened boy who lived in a hell he was unable to escape from.
Maggie’s heart cried out at Crispin’s vulnerability. How had she missed seeing this side of him? What terrors had he endured in his lifetime to leave him in this state?
“Crispin?” Maggie whispered, stepping forward. She held her palms out in front of her to show she meant no harm. She approached Crispin with the same calmness she had of the frightened horses she worked with.
Her calm voice offered him reassurances of her intention toward him. He wasn’t himself at this moment, but a shell of a victim set to protect himself at all costs. When she reached out to touch him, he recoiled, jumping away from her. Maggie kept talking. When she stepped forward again, he backed away, shaking his head. When they were close to the wall, she stopped. She didn’t want him to feel trapped.
“Crispin, my love. It is Maggie.”
A heart-wrenching moan tore from Crispin’s throat, and he advanced on her like a predator, but Maggie stood her ground. She pleaded with him to break the hold from where his mind wandered.
“Crispin. Crispin. Crispin,” Maggie repeated.
He towered above her, his knife inches from her heart.
“I love you, Crispin.” The words trembled from Maggie’s lips.
She might have sounded confident, but she was anything but. His actions terrified her, but her feelings for Crispin stood firm.
His hand lowered, and Maggie clenched her eyes shut.
Waiting.
