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“Try harder! They say you’ve forgotten shit. Maybe you’ve forgotten her too.” He reaches out to touch me, but I stumble backwards. “I need something… anything! Where they kept you. Was it close to here?” His hands are on me now, wrapping tight around my bicep and squeezing my flesh.
“I wish I could remember. I really do.” I want to help Storm find his sister. I want to help all the girls who are still being treated like I was. Maybe if I could, I wouldn’t feel so useless.
“Everything’s there in your head, Lydia. You just have to fucking search for it.” He sounds so desperate, like something inside him is broken, and I’m the only person who can fix it. I just wish my brain wasn’t refusing to cooperate.
“Where did they hold you? What were the walls like? Was it cold or warm? Were there windows?” His questions come so fast that I can’t focus on the answers, and I really don’t want to go back there. The memories are too painful.
“Come on, Lydia!” he shakes me so hard that I feel my bones rattle. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a rumbling sound, and the yard starts to light up. Storm’s too close for me to see anything behind him, and I close my eyes tight, trying to remember something for him. I push past my fears, taking myself back to the room where I was kept for so long and the narrow corridor Clara led me down.
“There were lots of doors and a long, narrow corridor.” I force the words from my mouth while my mind tries to pull in more details. “There were no windows in my room, just a small vent in the bathroom.”
“Get the fuck away from her!” a voice I recognize interrupts.
When I open my eyes, it’s him I see. My dark angel, saving me again. He looks savage like he could kill. The blue in his eyes is now dark gray, and wild like a hurricane.
“The fuck you doing here?” My arms get released too quickly, and I stumble backward. The vision through my tears is blurry now, but I still see Screwy, feral and dangerous as his fists attack Storm.
“You got a death wish or something?”
Squealer quickly moves behind his brother, balancing his cigarette between his lips so he can use both his hands to try to pull his brother back. “Come on, Screw, he’s just a kid,” he mumbles around his cigarette. But Screwy doesn’t let up, his elbows flying and fists pounding as he lays into Storm like a hungry animal.
“I was just…” Storm wraps his arms around his ribs to protect himself instead of attempting to fight back.
“Stop!” I yell out. Desperate to make Screwy pull away. Yes, he scared me, but I don’t want Storm to get hurt.
“Please stop,” I beg, reaching out my arm to place my palm on Screwy’s huge, tense bicep. The second my fingers make contact with his skin, he stops, his manic eyes diverting from Storm to the spot where my fingers touch. I feel his gaze deep in my bones as he raises his eyes up my arm and meets them with mine.
“He had his hands on you,” he explains in a low, predatorial growl. I can feel the tension trapped inside him like a fire beneath his stone surface.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, sliding my fingers higher up his tattooed arm until they’re touching his shoulder.
“Come inside with me, I’ve really missed you,” The tension in his muscles seems to ease ever so slightly, and he lets out a deep groan before he drops his head.
He takes his time but eventually holds out a hand and drags Storm back onto his feet with him.
The poor boy’s a mess, his one eye starting to close up from swelling and blood trickling from the split in his lip. Screwy keeps his grip firm as he forces Storm back against the porch pillar and presses his forearm across his throat.
“You ever touch, talk, or even breathe near her again. I swear I will rip out your insides,” he warns. I’ve seen the damage this man can do. I don’t believe he makes empty threats. I’m sure Storm knows that, too.
“Right, now that we cleared that up, I’m gonna go unload the cannons. Night y’all.” Squealer dusts off his hands and heads toward his cabin. Screwy gives Storm one final push off his porch and turns his back on him.
“You okay?” His voice rumbles through me as his bloody hand reaches up to tuck some hair behind my ear, and he checks me over for injury. I lean into his hand like a needy kitten because it’s exactly what I need to feel.
“I just want to find my sister. Can you imagine knowing that she’s out there somewhere? Thinking about what those animals are doing to her and being able to do fuck all about it,” Storm calls out from behind him, wiping away the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. I watch as Screwy closes his eyes, his jaw tightening and his hand starting to tremble.
“I just want to find her.” Storm is crying now, like a lost child, swiping at his tears like he’s ashamed of them and looking both angry and sad at the same time.
“I’ve got to find her. I can’t take it happening to her, too.”
Screwy can’t see how sad he looks because he’s got his back to him. Maybe if he could, he’d understand why I have to go to him. He’s broken down, and he needs comfort the same way Alex comforted me yesterday.
I kiss Screwy’s palm and slowly slide it from my face before stepping around him to go to Storm. He looks so much younger like this, so helpless, as he drops to his knees in front of me.
“I’m sorry.” I kneel down in front of him. “I want to help you, and I promise I’ll speak to Grace tomorrow. And every day after that, if that’s what it takes to remember something that will get her back to you.”
Storm stares at me for a while, like he struggles to understand the words I’m speaking, and when I manage a small comforting smile for him, he nods his head back.
“Thank you.” He accepts the hug I wrap around him before we stand up, and he steps back into the shadows.
