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The amount of fear she has over what happened is freaking me out. My paranoia, for some reason, is completely ignoring that she could be something evil. Every time I dredge up the thought, it gets immediately rejected. She’s just a hurt little girl without a chance to figure out what she wants and how to take care of herself. She’s not a danger to me. Even if she wanted to be, I don’t think she could be. I’m so much bigger than her and I’ve pretty much got her cut off from the outside world.
Does she fearme? I hope not, but I can’t be sure. I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow. My phone dings from the nightstand and I pick it up to read the message I received from Pres. He has a soft spot for Phoebe. It was written all over his face when we watched her break down. He’s always gentler with the girls, probably because of his own daughter.
How’s she doing?his text says.Did she tell you she was a witness in a trial as a teenager? She told me that in her interview but I forgot until today.
That strikes me as odd. Being a witness in a trial can’t be the ‘bad thing’ she says she’s done. It doesn’t make her a bad person. It could very well be a valid reason to run away though. It explains the frequent changes of address and would definitely explain the threatening note. There are so many questions that plague me and I wish the damn stubborn woman would just tell me the truth about what happened so I can protect her from it.
I trust Pres in everything, but I don’t necessarily feel pressed to indulge unnecessary information about Phoebe. She’s my ward, and I’ll keep her safe. I don’t care if it's paranoia talking to me. I’ll handle it myself without Pres’s input.She’s fine,I reply.Thanks for the info.
What is that fucking noise? Grunting, I roll over in bed and stare into the darkness, trying to figure it out. The noise has stopped, so I can’t tell what it was. It must have been a fan kicking on or something. I close my eyes and let sleep start to take me over again.
Shit!
Phoebe’s cries are ramping up downstairs and I groan as I shift out of bed. She’s sobbing when I reach her, and the second I touch her she fights back, slamming her fists into my chest.
“Phoebe, wake up. Ow, fuck!” I pin her arms to the couch, so she can’t hurt herself beating up on me, and shake her rougher than may be necessary to try to jar her awake. “Wake up, Phoebe.”
Her eyes open wide and she lets out a scream, clawing at my hands and leaving trails of stinging pain along my flesh.
“Okay, alright!” I release her arms and pull myself back. “Fuck!”
She jumps from the couch and runs towards the entryway, and I’m not thinking I need to follow after her until I hear the door open.
“Shit! Phoebe!” I get to the door just as she forces it closed and it locks between us. I have a key to manually override it, but it’s too far away. By the time I got to it, the door would have already unlocked. I have to get this fucking door open first when the light goes green, because if she gets the outer door opened first, I’ll be locked inside for another twenty seconds before I can get to her. “Phoebe! Don’t go outside!”
Her blue hair swings over her shoulder as she looks at me, pushing frantically at the door. It’s so dark outside and she’s going to hurt herself trying to escape. If she’d just stop for a second and take a breath, I’d get her calmed down and find out if she really wants to leave. I’ll take her wherever she wants to go, but if she tries to scale the fence or something she’s going to get hurt.
She jams her door open as soon as it unlocks, and I’mstuckbehind the first fucking door while she sprints outside to the gate. She’s not even wearing shoes. She’s so panicked that she’s going to get hurt. Fuck this shit. I’m going to get stuck between those doors for another ten seconds without the key, and ten seconds is a long goddamn time for her to hurt herself.
The door unlocks, the light turns green, and I’m through the first door, shoving it closed so the timer will start for the outer door, all thoughts of going for the key disappearing. Phoebe’s just running along the fence trying to find a way through it, but there isn’t one. It wouldn’t be a very good deterrent if it had big gaping holes in it for people to slip in and out of.
Adrenaline builds inside me as I wait at the door for it to unlock, pissed off with my own system. I set everything up this way because it makes sense for one person. It doesn’t make sense if I’m trying to get to the outside after someone that’s abusing the system against me.
When the door unlocks, my muscles are so coiled that I’ve closed half the distance between us before she even recognizes I’ve made it outside. Her hair waves behind her as she spots me and takes off sprinting. It only takes a few more strides before I have my arm around her waist, but the abrupt change in momentum takes us both down to the gritty sand beneath us.
Phoebe sobs and tries to catch her breath as I catch her under my body and pin her there with her back against my chest. “Goddammit, Phoebe,” I growl against her cheek. “It’s one in the morning. It’s not time for a game of tag.”
“Let me go,” she begs in a whiny, breathless voice.
“Inside. I’m too tired to do this tonight.”
Her entire body stiffens. “I’m too tired tonight. Don’t scream,” she whispers. “You’re next.”
Fuck, I set her off again. “It’s okay, Phoebe. I didn’t mean it. Let’s go inside,” I coax, lifting my weight off her in case that’s adding to her fear.
“PreeettyPhoebe.”
I get up on my feet and tug on her arm, but she doesn’t budge. “Come on. Let me help.”
“Your fear tastes so sweet,” she mumbles, almost singing the words to herself. If this is what that motherfucker said to her, no wonder she’s scared. It’s turning my stomach to watch her recite this horror to herself. “Wait till tomorrow. Don’t be scared, honey. You’re next.”
“Fuck this.” I flip her onto her back and lift her up into my arms. I’ve got to get her inside under the light so she can see me and remember who I am. Hopefully that helps. While we wait between the two doors, she’s still whispering shit to herself from her memories. When the light hits her, I see blood on her legs and groan. Shedidget hurt, but it looks like it was from when I tackled her to the ground. I did this, not her.
“Shit, Phoebe. I’m sorry.”
“Pretty Phoebe.”
“Fucking shit! What are you talking about?” I grumble more to myself than to her, knowing she’s not going to answer me. I have to turn a little to the side to get us up the stairs and into the bathroom, where I push her up onto the bathroom counter and grip her chin to try to get her to focus on me. “Phoebe, listen to me. Can you hear my voice?”
