TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER …
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” I woke screaming and shot up in bed covered in sweat, my heart beating out of my chest. Ringing sounded in my ears and tears dripped from my chin. I was on a perfect bed but didn’t recognize the room. All the memories instantaneously returned. We’d driven all the way to Spain to the little cottage we used to visit during Christmas break.
Was it all a dream?
No. It really had happened, but it was over.
They can’t follow me here. They’re gone.I repeated the mantra and rocked back and forth, resting my head in my hands. The gashes on my leg and stomach hurt so bad. Then another memory sprung. Dad had sewed me up while Mom packed everything possible including putting the sleeping twins in the car. He’d had to burn the gash on my stomach so that it would close. That’s when I had lost consciousness, when I felt my skin melt and become one. Only certain sitting positions didn’t lead to me whimpering like a broken dog.
Dad stood in the doorway, staring at me. How long had he been there? I peeked at the clock but wasn’t searching for the time. Holding eye contact with him was suddenly not so easy. “Morning, Dad.” My voice was still hoarse. Every word I spoke, I felt as if tiny pieces of glass were cutting my esophagus, so I massaged my neck. The image of Sylban’s dick down my throat popped into my head and I squeezed my eyes tight, cringing away from the memory, feeling the nausea rising but my stomach was empty.
Dad.This was the first time I was consciously calling him Dad instead of Daddy and it felt so fucking weird, but it was important because I needed to remind him that I wasn’t the same person so if he didn’t love me anymore, I understood ... technically.
The headache and dizziness pushed me to lay back on the bed. It wasn’t just throbbing; it shook my brain. Dad had told me it might be because I’d lost too much blood. I’d been close to dying by the time we’d made it home.
He closed the door behind him and sat at the edge of the bed, facing me. The whole time my heart drummed, scared this would be when he’d start asking questions. I hoped not; I’d been so grateful for the lack of them. When I dared to look at him, it felt as if two strangers were having a silent conversation. Were we strangers?
Did he still love me?
“Angel. I don’t want to push you to tell me anything. But—” He sighed and dropped his head in his palms as he rested his elbows on his knees. The thought that he was disgusted and ashamed of me sprung into my head. Why else wouldn’t he be able to look at me? It brought tears to my eyes.
I can’t lose Daddy. I already lost Killian. I can’t lose him too.
I tried to fight them, Daddy, I really tried. I promise, I promise. And and I tried to make them stop but... they wouldn’t I didn’t want to kill anyone. But fuck it felt so fucking good.
Still facing away from me, he stated, “If he hurt you in a different way, if he raped you, you need to tell me or your mother. I don’t care who. I know after what happened... you don’t like therapists, but you need to get it out of your system. I’ll even bring Aunt Mindy here if that’s what you need, or even send you over to her home in America for a month but you need to get it out of your system. And you need medical attention.” With bulging eyes, I held my breath and shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it. I was trying so hard to forget it.
After peeking back at me for a minute, he sucked his teeth and sighed. “I should have taken you to a hospital yesterday. You could have internal bleeding. Do you understand? Did he?—”
“I just need a morning-after pill,” I said the words fast. There. Now he knew it’d happened.
Slowly, he turned back toward me and studied my eyes. His face seemed tense. There were hints of anger, like his ticking jaw, his eyes slightly glaring, but he was otherwise expressionless. I tried to hold his gaze but couldn’t. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I’m just not ready. I don’t want to talk to Mom. She’s too perfect. She can’t handle something like this. I-I can’t explain it, Dad, but there’s something big going on. You can’t go back there. They’ll come after us. I can’t go to the police, it will just get back to his family, and then you will all be in danger. We’re all enough danger as it is. I don’t want to drag you deeper into this. I would never forgive myself.” I realized I wasn’t even aware what had come out of my mouth.
“Okay...” He nodded. “I understand. You need a little time. But... don’t underestimate your mother, Magdalena. Most people couldn’t handle five percent of what she has survived.”
“Ember!” Ashton yelled, startling me. His feet smacked the wooden floor as he ran down the hallway past my room. We both peered at the closed door then Dad dropped his head onto his palms again while sighing.
“I’m not ready to talk about it, Dad. I mean, I don’t know if I ever will be.” I spoke with finality once my gaze met his again.
He nodded. “I understand. Let’s unpack, then take you to a doctor who can examine you and you can speak freely to.” He stood, facing me.
“Thank you… Dad. I’m so sorry.” My voice broke and I swallowed.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He shook his head. “Whatever happened is not your fault. Okay? Don’t you dare think otherwise. I mean it, Magdalena. Look at me.” I did. “There’s nothing you can do to make me love you any less or to stop me from being proud of you.Nothing.”
It was the longest I’d looked into his eyes since yesterday. They were one of my favorite features about him. I’d missed them. Missed feeling worthy. “I love you, Daddy. Thank you.” I whispered, then swallowed tears.
“Sweetie, you have absolutely nothing to thank me for. It’smyjob to keep you safe…” He pounded his chest when he saidmy, and his voice broke when he saidsafe. “And help you whenever you need it.” He sniffled as he turned to leave.
“Dad, I don’t want you to think this was on you. This was not your fault. I mean, I’m eighteen. I was the one who accepted the invitation.” I shrugged.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Magdalena.” At the door, he stopped and said something he had not said to me since I was a hard-headed toddler who often refused help with assignment,puzzles and toys. “Magdalena, even little angels need help sometimes. Remember that.”
Time ran different after being raped, or maybe it was because I hadn’t killed all my rapists. Maybe it was because of how much I’d enjoyed stabbing them and feeling the warmth of their blood on my hands. I had to admit, the hunger to do it again was overwhelming. It was the only thing that made me feel better, imagining new creative ways to killhim. The fact I’d allowed him to charm me in some way, that he was still out there, tormented me day and night. Why did I do it?
The way he tried to get me through it. I often found myself raking my hair the way he had, then would immediately stop myself. The memory of the gentleness in his green eyes as he tried to talk some sense into me after he saved me from Mael and even from myself… there were at least twenty cuts on my leg from the knife. He’d acted as if he wanted me to somehow escape all this, to survive but it was too late. It was inside me like a billion red ants stinging me, crawling all over me. The sensation never dissipated.
After I recovered enough to walk, all I did was sit on a chair by a window that overlooked the backyard. Out there, bushes full of pink flowers were surrounded by the perfectly manicured grass, lit to it’s utmost beauty by the clear skies and raging sun. The sun lit it so brightly, as if nothing bad had ever happened in the world, as if we should have all been celebrating to be alive. The twins played with sprinklers, giggling until they would collapse and hold their tummies.Should I be alive? Am I really alive?Once the numbness had settled back in, I was no longer suicidal. I felt nothing at all. After feeling so much agonizing pain and horror, it was hard to believe I was truly alive. I searched for the intensity of my emotions everywhere inside mebut it was gone. It felt like a punishment. Why could I only feel when such a horrible, sick thing was happening to me?
