“Since you found me. I’m not in my heat anymore. How did you get me out of there?”
Torin looks over at Storm, as if he’s asking who’s going to tell me the answer to my question. Storm swallows hard, his Adam's apple rising and falling with the movement.
“I told you earlier, Dad told us what he did. Torin is not only a genius with the medical shit, but he’s a computer whiz, and he was able to find where you were and get us inside.” Storm continues pacing. “Just wish we weren’t fucking late,” he mumbles.
“We accounted for everything, knowing there would be a fight. You being in heat wasn’t something we were prepared for, however. I’m sorry, by the way,” Torin adds.
“For what?”
“You were so out of it I couldn’t get you to leave on your own, so I had to knock you out. Then, when I got you out of the building, I gave you a sedative so that we could keep you unconscious until your heat passed..” He finishes cleaning the wound, placing the rag and antiseptic on the nightstand before reaching back into his bag.
“I’m going to need to numb you up so that I can stitch up some of the ones that are deep. Sorry, but there’s going to be scars.” I can’t help but notice the pointed look on his face, like he means more with his words than the obvious.
Scars. What’s a few more? It’s not like I don’t have enough of them and now that I’m marked with an Arcane bond, any hope of a future with a pack, if I wanted one, is over.
Storm clears his throat, hesitating before stepping over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. He reaches out, taking my hand in his, giving a comforting squeeze. I watch as his mouth opens, but clamps shut.
“Okay, I’m going to numb up the area so I can stitch you up. The needle’s going to prick a little,” Torin cuts in, saving Storm from having to say whatever it is that’s on his mind. He sticks me with the needle, and I flinch.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“When did you start?” Storm’s voice cracks.
I know what he’s talking about. There’s no way the scars on the inner part of my thigh or along my stomach weren’t noticed by him.
“Storm—”
“No, River, when did you start carving yourself up with a blade? Why didn’t you tell me? Talk to me if something was bothering you so bad that you would do that to yourself?” His voice rises an octave as he speaks.
I don’t know what to say. There’s no answer I can give that won’t upset him.
“Storm, calm down,” Torin tells him. “I need the both of you to be calm. Let me stitch her up, and then we can all discuss everything.” He locks eyes with me. “I need to go over everything that happened while you were unconscious.”
I gulp. What could’ve happened? It couldn’t have been anything worse than what was done to me by the Hartman Pack.
For the next half hour, there’s silence while Torin stitches me up. Storm turns his head, not watching as he closes the cuts on my breast. I glance down, hating that even with all the damage, the stupid Arcane bond mark is still visible.
“I don’t even remember when I started. I just couldn't handle everything. Dad and his abuse and then school. The cutting was so I could feel something else. It was my way of taking control over something in my life. It was never about trying to end it.” My voice is soft as I spill my secrets to my brother. To Torin.
“What was happening at school?” he growls, before gaining control of his emotions. “You always talked about how much you enjoyed going there. Your friends.”
“I lied.” The truth finally comes out. “I did like the time I was away from Dad. Out of the house. But the abuse there was just as bad, just not physical. I knew if I told you how bad it was you’d try to find a way to fix it and there wasn’t one.”
“But I could’ve done something to help you so that you didn’t think you had to do this to yourself.” He chokes on his words, holding back his tears. “You have to promise me you won’t do it again. One day you’re going to cut too deep, and I’ll lose you.”
I wish I could promise I won’t do it again. But I would be lying to him, and to myself, because I’m craving doing it again, right now, as we have this conversation.
“She’s not going to be able to stop, Storm. We’ve talked about this. She needs counseling. Help to find a new way to deal with her pain.” Torin speaks while finishing up the stitches.
“And we’re done. Get your sister a shirt to put on so we can have the rest of our discussion.”
Storm rises from the bed and moves across the room, to where there are boxes sitting. I peer around Torin, taking a double look at some of the items flowing over the top. It’s my stuff. Stuffies from my pitiful little nest I had in my closet, and clothes.Myclothes.
He rummages through the box until he pulls out a nightgown and brings it to me.
“This is my stuff,” I state more than asking.
“Yeah.” He lifts his hand and runs it through his shaggy locks, far longer than he normally wears it. “While you were…ummm…sleeping, Jaylan and I went and got your things. Mine too. There’s no way in hell either of us are ever stepping foot in that house again.”
