The witch chained me up, but she tortured Hansel. I screamed until I couldn’t make a sound. I still have scars from where the metal dug into my skin.
He was different after that. He didn’t want anything to do with me, and I can’t blame him. How could I ever blame him? He wasn’t the one who suggested knocking on the door. If I hadn’t done it?—
If I hadn’t dared him, maybe we would have walked back out of the forest and headed home. Maybe our lives could have stayed simple.
But that’s not what happened.
Something hits the floor with a loud ‘bang’ and brings me out of my memories. Hansel pulls pieces of wood off a stack in the corner. It’s the same stack that was here the last time we were. He kicks one of the fallen logs back into place and turns to face me.
“I’ll make a fire. We’ll stay here tonight.”
The darkness outside lets me know there’s no way we’d be able to make it through the woods. “Here?” I question and he looks back at me as though it’s an odd question.
“We have to rest before heading back. We’ve travelled all day and night.”
There’s no hearth in the little cottage. It’s heated—when it’s heated—by the oven. While Hansel tips the wood into the oven and gets the fire started, I find a broom in the opposite corner. I find a rag near the sink and use it to brush away the cobwebs from the broom, then use the broom to brush the worst of the cobwebs off the walls and corners. Then I do the floor, starting near the door and working my way around.
Hansel shuts the oven with a clang just as I reach the doorway. I’m simply keeping myself busy. Exhaustion weighs down on me but I don’t know how I could possibly sleep here. Foolishness once again sinks it’s claws into me.
The cottage has one bedroom, and I hesitate at the door.
It must have been her bedroom. But it was also where she kept us, for a little while. It was where she kept me when she tortured Hansel.
Not wanting to make this any worse for Hansel, I lift my chin and go inside. One foot after the other even though my body feels frozen and unmoving.
It’s as dim as the rest of the cottage, but I attack all the cobwebs and brush some of the dust off the window. Not quite looking and thinking of the fire.
I lean the broom in the corner and move to the bed. It’s big enough for two people, but I want the faded blanket off. I pull it away from the mattress, fold it up, and stack it in a free corner. There’s a chest at the foot of the bed, and I open it, hoping?—
Yes. There’s another quilt inside. I shake that one out and spread it out on the bed. All the while my heart races and my mind begs me not to think of anything. The back of my eyes sting with the memories. I can hardly breathe.
It was so awful here, and it was all my fault. Hansel shouldn’t forgive me. He shouldn’t touch me ever again. He was right, and I was wrong, and I’ve always been wrong, and?—
“Maybe we don’t need to stay,” I manage, and turn to face Hansel directly behind me. “Maybe?—”
He closes the distance between us and puts one hand on my waist, the other on my chin. Hansel tilts my face to his and looks into my eyes.
He doesn’t look blank anymore. He doesn’t look like a stranger. He looks like the boy I knew, grown into a man and hurt badly along the way. There’s so much pain in his eyes that I can’t believe he’s not crying.
No tears well up. He rakes his eyes over my face, his thumb tracing a path over my bottom lip.
Hansel lets out a breath. “Gretel it’s okay.”
“I don’t think we have to stay,” I whisper in a rush. I’m the one with tears slipping onto my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. “I’m not afraid to travel at night, as long as I’m not—” I stumble over the words. “As long as I’m not alone. We shouldn’t stay here. We should never have come here in the first place. We?—”
“Shh.” Hansel runs his thumb over my lips until I quiet. “Never have I ever?—”
“Hansel, please. You don’t have to?—”
“Never have I ever fucked anyone in this house,” he says, stealing my breath. “But I want to. I want to claim every inch of you. I want to change what this place means to me. I want you. I want this house to know the sounds you make under me. I want you to know what pleasure is.”
My entire body trembles. It’s cold in the bedroom—the heat from the oven hasn’t had a chance to fill the cottage yet—but it’s not the temperature that overwhelms me. It’s Hansel’s touch. Every nerve ending is lit aflame.
“I’ve never,” I whisper. No one has ever spoken to me like that. No one’s ever looked at me the way he does now. My body bows to his, with an aching need.
“I know,” he says, and kisses me. Deeply and with a devotion that ignites a lust within me. A desire I’ve had for years.
It’s slower than it was in the wagon. He tastes my mouth, exploring with his tongue, and pulls my waist closer to his.
