“You look sad again.” Nessie noticed. “Woodrow, hold her hand; she needs comfort.”
He walked to me, a hand again leaving Nessie's body. This time, moving to me, accompanied by his silver eyes as he followed his sister’s instructions.
I looked down to my hand, already joined with Woodrow's, fingers clasped tight. He gave me a gentle squeeze before gifting me a kiss like he’d done his sister, then piloting us in a different direction, proving my confidence to lead us out into the daylight was useless.
The sun lightened the sky, its radiance shining from behind the house in the far distance.
Decay, which could even be sensed from here, was shrouding what was once a beautiful home. We looked to be about a mile away from the once-white monument, when Nessie requested to run the rest of the way.
Woodrow's grip loosened, and she slipped down his back and away from us, seeing her home in the distance, not realizing how far away it was.
She shouted something in her excited little voice, but the gentle breeze and distance between us distorted her words, making them incomprehensible.
My steps became stunted. Now that I was out of the house, I didn't want to return.
“Are you okay?”
“I feel. . . I don't know what to feel.”
“Please, forgive me.” Woodrow dropped down to his knees, his bones pressing into the mud. “Let God be the one to judge me because only he can see that this hurts me as much as you.” His fingers massaged Jesus, dangling around his wrist.
“No, I see that.” My fingers brushed his cheek, and I knew he'd have leaned into me if he could.
“You don’t have to be scared of me.”
“That’s not true.”
“I know. Deep down, I know,” he admitted, with such pain in his voice, it brought me to my knees.
Knee to knee, I stared into his eyes. His soul.
“The second I saw you, my heart beat differently. I figured it was a teenage crush, but it wasn't. It was bigger than that. Stronger than anything. I listened to you cry every night. I listened to you talk to a person who isn't here, and it hurt me so much. But this, your pain because of me, it's killing me. . . I'd do anything for you to forgive me.”
“I just haven't healed yet.”
“How can I help with that?” He moved in, inhaling the scent of the daisies around us, and feeling calmer because of them. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I don't know.”
I had two ideas, the complete opposite of each other, but I kept them silent. Secrets, I shared only with myself. One, avoid him forever. . . run, and hope to be fast enough to rush from Ville’s battered truck, praying that in time, I’d forget them all. Or, ask Woodrow to repeat what happened. . . with gentleness, forcing out the violent memories.
For now, I pushed the thoughts away, because I couldn’t leave without him. I couldn’t lose him. . . I couldn’teverlose him because I would never forget him. But I couldn’t even think of the idea of sex with him, not without a rush of nerves and nausea.
“Walk with me?” I helped him from the ground, and walked slowly, enjoying the views of the open land, hand in hand, withthe boy who had violently assaulted me only days ago. The same boy who'd give me the love I needed to heal.
Days went by, and Woodrow was still Woodrow—this version of himself. He’d bring me snacks throughout the day because I was constantly hungry and craving something sweet to gift myself a little comfort. . . but aside from his scheduled food deliveries, I didn't see much of him.
He gave me space—something I thought I'd need to heal.
It wasn't working.
In my head, he was ever present, whispering words of love. Whispering apologies I no longer wanted. I just wanted him.
I was almost ready to try option number two.
He'd pushed my dad from my daydreams, hogging my attention. Nothing could distract me from him, and when something tried, like Nessie, waving a doll in my face, asking me to play, I'd have to swallow my agitation.
I became distant from reality, in a place that only existed for me. Because of that, I empathized more with Woodrow and his struggles.
