“I’m sorry,” he says flatly, but then he turns away as if the sentiment were genuine.
For some reason, just hearing those words is what breaks me. The tears fall and as I wipe them away, he looks at me with distaste. I half expect him to tell me to stop, but he doesn’t.
I struggle to calm myself and somehow I do. Maybe it’s because I don’t really believe him. I don’t believe it’s hopeless. My mother will find me, and she’ll make that man pay for what he’s done. Both to me and to this boy. I know she will.
“What’s your name?” I ask to keep him from leaving me as he turns. I lick my lips, tasting the salty tears and wiping my cheeks. I don’t want to cry. I want to get out of here.
“J-” he starts to answer me, but we both whip around and face the door as it opens, silencing us and making me instinctively back away.
I grab onto the boy’s arm and force myself behind him. I don’t know a thing about him and the look he gives me nearly makes me run from both him and the man stalking into the room, but I don’t get the chance. The boy grips my wrist with his other hand and pulls me closer to him, my front to his back and my back to the wall. He keeps himself deliberately positioned in between me and the man.
It’s only when I grab onto the boy, my small fingers digging into the rough denim of his jeans at his hip and my cheek pressed against his back, that he lets go of me.
The boy may scare me some, but the man terrifies me.
Chapter 5
That night
“I want to go home,” the girl whimpers. Her wide doe eyes dart from mine every time I look at her. We’re on opposite sides of the room, and that’s how it’s been since I came back. That’s all she keeps saying as she’s bundled up in the corner and crying.
She’s terrified, and has every right to be. But after what my father’s done to me, I don’t want to look at her. Partly out of shame. Partly out of hate. I was only gone for an hour, but an hour is enough.
He did it on purpose. Taking me the moment she woke up, and showing her how easily he can break me. He knew what he was doing, and it worked. And I did nothing to stop him. No fight in me… for her. And now, I can’t even look at her.
I can feel the bags under my eyes, the desperate need for sleep. But I can’t. Not with her here and not knowing what my father will do next. I force my dry throat to swallow, the pain still present and lean my head against the cold wall as I stare at the door. Sleep’s come easily to me this past week when I had nothing left to give, but I won’t let it take me now.
“Please, can you just tell him to let me go?” she asks weakly. I can see her lean forward slightly, hesitant and praying for mercy from me. But I can’t do anything for her. I’m so fucking helpless, and it only makes me angrier. Doesn’t she know I’m pathetic? My father made sure to show her as much.
“I just want to-”
“Stop it,” I tell her harshly and hate myself even more. I glare at her, ready to tell her how she needs to be quiet. How there’s no way out and that her crying is only going to piss me off, but then I see how glossy her eyes are, how her lips are turned down in a way that makes her seem even more vulnerable.
My heart beats in a weird way, like it’s skipping instead of beating. It hurts and my stomach churns with a sickness at who I am. Who I’ve become. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be this person.
“Jay,” she says and I look up at her. Her voice is soft. It doesn’t matter how angry she is with me or I with her, we’re all each other has.
I stare at her, waiting for her to say something, but the tears fall down her cheeks. They don’t even require her to blink.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse and her shoulders crumple inward. My blood rings with adrenaline to move, to go to her and cradle her in her arms. But I don’t want her to touch me back.
“I said I’d look out for you, right?” I ask her. Offering her a small smile. It’s not genuine in the least, but I try. I mean it. I will look out for her. I don’t know what I’ve done, but I know she didn’t do a damn thing wrong. “I won’t let him hurt you,” I tell her.
“How could he not?” she asks in a murmur and her voice cracks at the end. “He’s a bad man,” she says and then licks the tears from her lips. “Bad men do bad things.” She wraps her arms around herself and then looks back at me with an expression I can’t place.
My skin heats, every inch of it feeling like it’s on fire. “I’m here,” I tell her simply.
“Hold me please,” she pleads with me, wiping the tears from her eyes and looking away. “I’m just scared and I need…” she shakes her head, not finishing her thought.
“You need to sleep,” I say, finishing it for her and she whips her eyes to mine. There’s nothing but fear in hers. Her body is stiff and she slowly looks at the door.
“I’m here,” I tell her softly and offer a hand out to her. I don’t know why I do, I shouldn’t. But she’s quick to crawl across the cement floor to me. She drags the blanket with her and glances at the door as she comes over to sit next to me. I keep my distance when her knee bumps into mine. I scoot away, keeping a gap between the two of us.
The look on her face is like I smacked her, and she immediately withdraws. “I don’t like to be touched,” I tell her with a tense jaw.
Her head lowers and she slowly pulls and tucks the blanket around her. She hesitantly offers a bit of it to me, which makes my lips tug up into a smirk and I shake my head.
I don’t want to be anything close to warm. The chill keeps me up at night. I nestle my back against the wall and stare straight ahead. She’s close, and hopefully feeling better, but there’s not much else I can do for now. I’ve already started calculating a way to sneak her out. If we both run, he can’t get us both. I just need a chance. How many times have I prayed for just that, only to go unheard?
But Robin isn’t tainted like me. Maybe fate will have mercy on her.
“Sorry,” she barely whispers the word and my eyes are drawn to her as she huddles under the blanket. She doesn’t look at me as I ask, “For what?”
“I didn’t mean to touch you, it’s just so cold,” she answers weakly.
I stare at her a moment, only because it doesn’t feel cold to me really. A little chilly, but then again, maybe she’s not used to this. I snort a humorless laugh, a huff really at the thought and that gets her attention.
When she looks up, her eyes dart to the rip in my shirt.
My father did that on purpose, too. She slowly reaches her hand up and I grab her wrist, my fingers wrapping easily around her as a small gasp comes from her lips. “Don’t,” I warn her, my heart beating wildly.
Her eyes look back down, past the tattered cotton and at the smattering of scars.
“What happened?” she asks me with sadness so evident in her voice.
I want to shove her off my lap, to leave her in this filthy cell. But I don’t. Instead I stay perfectly still until I can lower her arm back down. If I leave her, I have nothing.