Page 20 of Tortured

But would that be worse. Not remembering her own young ones. If I had young ones, even if I lost them, I could never bear to wipe out that memory. It would break me if I ever forgot them. As long as they exist, even in your memory, than you once had something beautiful. Something yours. To lose that would be worse than the actual memory. At least to me.

I pick her up and carry her back into the sleeping cabin and settle on the side of the bed, holding her tightly. I think that she needs to talk about this, to diminish the ghosts that cling to her soul.

I’m not sure I really want to know but it feels like I need to ask. Like she needs to tell me.

“Tell me this story, Lacey. Show me your pain. Maybe it will help.”

She laughs, but it’s a hysterical sound, broken at the end by sobs. “Nothing will help.”

“We shall see. But if you do nothing than nothing gets better.”

She eyes me, her brown eyes tired and sad. Then she sighs and leans into me, like she needs the support. I will gladly be her support in this.

Her eyes turn distant and I don’t think she’s with me anymore. I’m not sure if she’s even on the ship anymore.

“I used to get these awful headaches called migraines. Did you read about them?”

I nod my head but I didn’t really understand what it said.

“They’re awful pains in your head and then the worse it gets, the worse your head feels. It’s like a vise closes on your mind, then you get sick to your stomach and the room spins. Your eyes get really sensitive to light and you have to turn it off and lie in a dark room with no noise because the noise makes it so much worse.”

Her shoulders sink.

“That day I had a horrible migraine and I had taken medicine but it did not get better and I was crying in the bedroom because the kids were so wound up. It was close to Christmas and the next day we were going to see Santa. Both of the kids were still young enough to believe in him and they were so excited.”

“What is a Santa?”

Her eyes clear for a moment but she doesn’t smile. “He is this old guy who visits houses on Christmas Eve to bring presents. Do you have any holidays like that?”

I shake my head. “Continue with your story.” This Santa guy sounds terrible. Breaking into houses and leaving gifts. Who knows what trouble this could cause?

“Anyway, Eric, my husband told the kids to get ready and they were going to go visit his parents so I could get some rest.”

Anger ripples through me before flaring to life like a raging fire. “You have a mate?” The need to beat him to a pulp washes over me and I have to fight the urge to throw her aside and turn the ship around to Earth just to find this male and kill him.

“I had a mate.” Her mouth stumbles over the words and she frowns.

My hands clench and I settle back, nodding at her. “Continue.”

But she’s lost to her own story now and I don’t think she hears me at all.

11

LACEY

Ican see them in my mind’s eye. Charles, the spitting image of his dad. He’s sitting in the back seat of our SUV, reaching across the seat to try and pull a toy doll out of Lyssa’s hands. She immediately starts to cry, crystal tears shimmering in her bright blue eyes and spilling down her chubby cheeks.

My husband, Eric turns back to glare at Charles. “Leave your sister alone, buddy.”

Charles huffs and crosses his arms. His brown hair flops into his puppy-dog chocolate eyes.

Eric turns back to me and smiles, his blue eyes warm and happy, concerned for me. “I’ll see you in a few hours, honey.”

I rub my pounding head and force a smile. “Thanks so much for taking them to see your parents, honey.”

“No problem, sweetheart. Take some Tylenol and lie down. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I watch them pull away and out of the driveway and my mind freezes, refusing to go any further.

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