She isn’t making noises, but she is crying.
Her tears dampen my black hoodie.
I walk towards the glass doors, not making eye contact with my parents who look shocked. My mom has her mouth cupped by her hand and eyes wide while Dad is staring hard with questions burning in his gaze. It’s a relief that they don’t say anything as I move past them.
Hope shakes terribly in my arms as if she knows they are a few steps away from us.
Picking up pace, I hurry down the hallways and take the stairs that lead up to my room. Once we’re inside, I lock the door and set her down on my bed. She doesn’t let go of me.
So, I sit down with her on my lap and remove her shoes so she can slip under the duvet.
She still doesn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, lifting her chin.
This time she doesn’t hesistate.
“I don’t want to think what your parents are thinking, but I can’t stop thinking about it,” she tells me in a quiet voice. “What will I tell them if they ask me why I’m here?”
“Tell themIwant you here.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I can’t stay away from you.”
She looks up at me and the sight of her shoots an arrow right through my heart. Her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed and her cheeks are flushed with streaks of tears. She resembles a mess—pulled apart piece by piece, barely holding it together. She still looks beautiful. But in a sad, kinda way that tugs the heartstrings of my fucking heart.
Just like that my mood switches and my body turns stone.
“What the fuck happened tonight, Rose?” My tone is hard, laced with anger that I can hardly keep inside.
“A lot,” she whispers.
My muscles lock in tension. She doesn’t look hurt, but I know her shitty father is the reason for her pain.
Taking a deep breath, she tells me everything. The things her father said makes me want to kill him, but then she tells me about her mother and how she practically shoved her out of the house in the middle of the night with no care.
He said I’m a mistake.
They were drunk.
He wanted to get rid of me.
After hearing those words, I feel sick to my stomach. My insides have fused together in a knot. With every twist and turn, nausea stirs, and I feel like my dinner is going to come up any second.
“They didn’t want me.” She sobs. “I was a mistake. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I hold her close to me. “You’re not a mistake.”
She shakes her head, adamant about it.“He said it. And he sounded so sure.”
“Well, he is fucking wrong, so don’t listen to him.”
She sniffles. “His words. His voice. I can’t stop listening to it. It’s playing in my head.”
“Rose,” I cup her face in my hands. The look she wears splinters my lungs, making it hard to breathe. “You are not a fucking mistake.”
“How can you be so sure?”
