Page 8 of Saving His Forever

He takes my hand to steady me. I let my body adjust and slowly make my way to the front door. I love how the house has rocking chairs and a bed porch swing that is begging for me to read in it.

My mind wonders to my reader that is probably broken or stolen at this point because it landed on the ground outside of my apartment.

He pushes open the door for me and I take in the beautiful living room. The black leather couch with the white accents and a huge flat screen hanging on the wall in front of the couches.

“Want me to show you your room?” he asks me, shutting the door behind him.

I nod, “Yes please.” My back is killing me and I need to lay down. I haven’t regained all of my strength; I was so malnourished after going so long without food.

He leads me to a room on the first floor past the kitchen, which I’m in love with. I can’t wait to cook there.

He pushes open a door and shows me a large, beautiful room and a four-poster bed settled in the center of the room. “Wow, this is beautiful,” I walk into the room. I can see some of my personal items spread throughout the room to make it more comfortable for me.

Settled on the center of the bed is a kindle I have been eyeing for a long time. With shaky hands, I turn around and look at Isaac. I don’t want to ask, almost afraid.

“Isaac...” I start and he smiles as slips past me. “Chase found your reader and it was broken, so I got you another one.”

I walk over to the bed, next to where he’s standing. He hands me the reader and also hands me a gift card. “I could tell you love to read.”

I stare at the reader and I try to push back the tears that are threatening to fall. “This is the first gift I have ever gotten. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” I whisper, shocked.

I set the kindle on the bed and I split the short distance between us, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much, Isaac,” I whisper, my head pressed against his chest. I’m shaking from nerves and emotions of everything happening.

He pulls back, cupping my face with both hands. “You’re more than welcome, darlin.” I smile at the name he gave me. He pulls me back into his arms and presses a small kiss to the top of my head.

I close my eyes at the feel of his lips touching me and let out a rattled breath. “Get some sleep,” he encourages me, but he doesn’t make a move to let me go and I can’t bring myself to move either.

“Want to watch a movie with me?” I suggest and he relaxes like he has been waiting for me to ask him.

“Your bathroom is over there.” He points to a closed door. “If you want to shower, your clothes are in the closet and all your personal items are in the bathroom.

. I make my way to the closet slowly and find a pair of sweatpants and a soft, comfy flannel shirt.

When I walk out, Isaac isn’t in the room. I shut the door behind me in the bathroom, leaving me alone for the first time.

The nurses wouldn’t leave me alone because they were afraid I would fall. God, I needed this.

I turn on the shower as warm as I can stand it. I place my back to the wall so the shower spray doesn’t get on my back because of the stitches.

The warm water sprays onto my face and I close my eyes, letting the tears roll down my cheeks.

I can’t believe how much my life has changed. I can’t even bare to go back to my apartment because I’m afraid it’ll trigger flashbacks.

I put my hand on the wall sobbing, feeling this pain with every part of my body. But I am so thankful to God that I am still here, there is hope at the end of this.

I can live a normal life one day.

Right now, I’m going to enjoy the things that I promised myself in that basement that I won’t take advantage of ever again.

So, I smile and wipe away the tears, encouraging myself to pull my shit together. I have to feel what I have to feel so I can move on.

I turn off the water being careful not to get my back wet. I stare at myself in the mirror and touch the bruises on my face. They are healing; they aren’t dark and purple anymore, but more yellowing and not as sore.

I take my hair down and gently brush through the strands, trying not to tug on my scalp because it’s painful where they used my hair as a means to drag me around.

My hands hit the counter and I close my eyes, everything hitting me once again.

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