Page 78 of Feathers and Thorns

“So, you’re saying Enara has never seen you like that before?”

“No. I mean, of course she has, and Baz a couple of times, but it’s not something I go sharing with everyone. I don’t walk around Vreburn like, ‘Hey, just wanted to let you know I have anxiety and debilitating panic attacks on a regular basis!’”

Rook chuckled again, and Soren wondered why she hadn’t tried to make him laugh more back at the manor. The melodic sound filled her soul with joy.

“I just mean to say your emotions do not make you weak. If anything, they are your strength. Your worry for your friends is what kept you going at the manor, and your love for your father is what brought you here. Your emotions are your armor, and you are the sword. They are your strength—do not forget that.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she choked down a sob. “I wasn’t always like this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened when I was young, and since then, I have always had trouble dealing with things rationally.”

“Being emotional does not make you irrational … Well, sometimes,” he said, giving her a playful smirk. “But go on.”

“It’s too hard. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it just yet.”

“I understand, and I won’t force you, but if you won’t talk about it when we could all be dead in a couple weeks’ time, then when do you think you will be ready to talk about it?”

Soren knew he was right. She also knew she didn’t want to potentially go to her grave without someone knowing all of her. She always thought when she finally wanted to share the source of her trauma, it would be to Enara. She had tried so many times to tell her what had happened that night, but she never knew where to start. After a while, she had just tucked it away in a box at the back of her mind. She had even managed to forget about it for a few years … until memories started breaking back through from the buried spaces in her brain.

Her father’s death seemed to have broken the dam that she had built inside to protect herself, and everything had come flooding back with one giant wave that threatened to pull her under.

She took in a steadying breath and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m ready.”

* * *

Rook waited quietly as Soren started to articulate what had happened to her. She went on to explain that, back when she was a child, she had a sleepover at one of her father’s friends’ houses. This had been before the incident with Altair, and he had known quite a few people in town. He had been celebrating a recent find and wanted to spend the evening with some friends from back home. So, he’d made arrangements with Mrs. Rouse and her husband to have Soren stay over at their place for the evening.

They had a daughter who was a year and a half older and a sixteen-year-old son. Soren had been eight. Tarak had been friends with the couple for years, and the kids had grown up together. He couldn’t have known anything bad would happen.

Soren went on to explain how they would play games about rescuing princesses and capturing thieves, and how she had always loved spending time with them. The older brother, Marshall, would always be the conquering hero, and her his blushing bride.

Every time they finished a mission, he would say she had to give him a kiss to say thank you for saving her. She, of course, would oblige. Even at her young age, she had always thought him to be pretty and felt special that he wanted to kiss her. She had never realized how inappropriate his requests were until the memories came flooding back. The sister, Tilly, had never known anything was amiss, or if she had, she had never said so.

Soren remembered everything about that night. She remembered what they had eaten for dinner, what play they had acted out before they were tucked into bed. She remembered the nightgown she had worn when Marshall had snuck into the room. She remembered being surprised that Tilly hadn’t woken from the bed next to her as Marshall slid below the blankets and pressed his body to hers.

Rook repressed his anger as Soren continued.

She explained how sometimes she could still feel the touch of his hands on her skin. The kisses he had planted on her neck and back that had made her child-sized toes tingle. The heat between her legs as he’d pressed his fingers into her body in a way that had felt so foreign but good in a way. The soreness she had felt afterwards as she had followed him to the kitchen.

She couldn’t recall most of their conversation, but she remembered watching him take a bite of an apple and asking him if he should clean his hands. She didn’t remember what had happened after that. She couldn’t recall any other instances, apart from that one time, but that one time had changed everything.

She had always felt the need to be in control of things her whole life. When plans changed, or people were unreliable, she would take her frustrations out on those closest to her. Her personal relationships had always been strained, and her father had been none the wiser because she had never spoken about the events of that night with him. Instead, he had always been so patient with her and let her get her anger out with sports or combat training in school.

She never blamed him for not asking more questions. She knew she had hid her feelings from him well, and when she had lashed out, she had been so quick to apologize that he had chalked it up to growing pains. Not having her mother in the picture had given him a little bit of leeway in that regard. How was he to know what the teenage experience was like from the female perspective?

“I was so angry all the time,” Soren continued. “I never sought help for my issues. I didn’t even know how to ask for it until Enara came into my life. Then Baz suggested I speak to his mom about taking something to help with the panic attacks. Yet I still never told them exactly what had happened.”

Rook had remained silent as she shared her story, building a mental wall around the anger that threatened to burst forth and burn the world to the ground himself to find this boy who had taken advantage of Soren as a child.

“You know you don’t owe them an explanation, Soren,” Rook said softly.

“I know, but how do you explain something like that to someone and share that it felt good while it was happening? Something inside me is wrong. How could I have found enjoyment in someone doing that to me?”

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