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“Please, bring her back!” she shouts, pushing off me. “Give her back to me!”
Journey's tears reach into my fucking chest and yank out my heart. She owns me—my beating heart and fucking blackened soul. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew. I knew what she’d bring to the table. I just didn’t know I’d be sharing her with my two best friends.
No matter. I’m keeping her forever.
Her panic rises, her cries growing louder and louder until her breaths come in heavy pants. Shit. She clutches her chest, turning red from the lack of oxygen. Her gasps ring in my ears as she continues to cry and beg for air.
I open my mouth again, sucking in a breath. Mentally, my mind tumbles with indecision. Do I? Can I? It’s been so fucking long since I’ve used it. Or had the desire. Not since he took my tongue, effectively muting me.
“Now, you’ll never be able to utter another word to Gabriel ever again.” His sickening smile haunts my dreams.
I open my mouth, feeling the hollowness where my tongue should be. On instinct, I try to move it, but I only work the base of it where it still rests at the back of my throat.
It’s gone.
He took it.
Without my permission.
And now, I’m voiceless amongst the loud.
Just how he wants me.
I shake away the memory. One filled with probing hands and hateful looks. Thomas Mondelli was never a father. Especially not mine. He didn’t deserve the title. Ever. He deserves to rot in the deepest part of hell, sizzling for eternity. I’m glad someone killed him in the line of duty for Gabriel. I’m glad he was shot straight through the chest and choked on his own blood. He deserved to hurt.
I’ve never had the desire to speak since my father cut out my tongue. He took my voice. My way to communicate. Right now, I need it more than ever to cut through her cries and panic.
In a futile attempt, I sign loving words in front of her eyes. Not that she’d know what I was saying, but maybe it'd knock her from her stupor. But it doesn’t do anything at all.
There’s only one thing I can do to soothe her. Only one thing to do before she crashes and burns before my eyes.
Even if everything inside me squirms and my skin heats from the uncomfortable feeling of clearing my throat and producing the unmistakable sound of my deep voice. Little noises erupt from my vocal cords, and the webs from disuse fall off, giving way to something I completely forgot about.
My voice.
“It’s okay,” I rasp out as best I can without the support of my tongue.
I freeze. It’s odd to hear a piece of me that I haven’t experienced in years. My eyes widen at the sound of my scratchy voice, barely above a whisper. It’s low, raspy, and airy. A forgotten entity I’ve buried for so long, hellbent on burying the memories of the man who took this from me.
“You’re okay, I swear. I won’t hurt you, Sweetheart. I’ll protect you forever.” That’s a goddamn pledge I can get behind. “We’ll never let you go.”
Journey’s body continues to tremble, her glazed-over eyes zeroing in on me when I bend down in front of her, clutching her cheeks in my palms.
“Wherever you’re lost at, I’m the lighthouse bringing you back. Fight through the fog, Sweetheart,” I rasp in a whisper, forcing her sleeping form to stare at me. Even if it doesn’t register. “Fight to get back to me.”
Journey’s lip quivers as more tears spill. “I just want to go home,” she whispers with desperation. Her fingernails dig into my forearms where she hangs onto me like a life raft. “Please. Don’t let my monster come back. He’ll hurt me.”
“I am your home,” I whisper again, pressing my forehead into hers. “Let go, Sweetheart. You’re safe here. Not there. Follow my voice and leave the darkness.”
She nods like she understands, loosening her grip and falling limp.
“I’m safe,” she whispers, shivering in my grasp.
“Journey?” I murmur, catching her cloudy eyes.
“Hmm?” she hums, growing weaker and weaker in my arms.
“Who’s Sunshine? And who has her?” Tears sting my eyes when a small smile pulls at her lips, and she sighs wistfully, almost seeming awake. But I know by the glazed look in her eyes, she’s still not with it. She’s sleep-talking. She’ll have no recollection of this in the morning.
