Page 25 of Under His Protection

“He didn’t rape me. I wanted to, I think.” She stumbles over the words, her voice wavering. “You don’t know our world, Ava. It’s not all tea parties and Netflix subscriptions. This little cozy place? This 9-5 job? Fuck that.”

She spits the words, her eyes bloodshot.

“My life is everything but pretty,” I say, my voice laced with anger and a deep, aching pain. “You think I’m oblivious to the darkness? I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it.”

“Sure, you have,” Michelle mocks. “Your most life-changing event would be a Prime subscription!”

“Michelle–”

“Oh, shut up,” she hisses, her voice sharp and cutting. “No wonder Alex chose you. You’re a great escape, something new to play with. Not like his other dolls, with high heels, long legs, and model bodies. You’re—you’re ordinary.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. They leave a sting, a burning mark on my soul. I know she’s hurting, but the words are sharp and cruel, echoing my pain. I know I’m ordinary. I know I’m nothing special. But I’m not a doll. I’m not a toy. I’m a survivor.

“You don’t know me—”

“I know enough that you’re not gonna stick around. You’r’ gonna leave like everyone else in our life when the going gets tough, yeah? We’ just like a beat-up old car. Exchange us when necessary, huh?”

“I’m not like that—”

“Fuck that!”

A sharp rap on the door jolts us. My hand instinctively goes to the knife on the table.

“The fuck?” Michelle snarls, grabbing a frying pan from the stove, her eyes blazing with a protectiveness that surprises me.

We move towards the door in a silent, tense ballet. Every creak of the floorboards makes me jump.

Peering through the peephole, my pulse quickens. It’s a familiar silhouette: broad shoulders, a rumpled suit, and tousled dark hair.

Alexander. My shoulders sag, and I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding.

The door clicks open. The scent of rain and something raw and wild washes over me. He’s a mess, his clothes damp and clinging to him, his eyes dark and desperate. My heart aches with a confusing mix of emotions – I want to run into his arms and feel his body’s heat, but something holds me back. We’re broken. We’re over.

“Ava,” he says, his voice is raw. “Where is she?”

The frying pan clatters to the floor with a resounding thud. Michelle, a whirlwind, runs into her brother’s arms, and I’m left standing in the doorway.

The scene unfolds before me, a tableau of pain and raw emotion. Alexander stands there, drenched from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, hugging his little sister.

The lines etched on his face speak of a weariness that goes beyond physical exhaustion and seems to seep from his very soul. His usually bright eyes are now dull, clouded with a pain that pierces me to the core.

Alexander pulls Michelle close, his arm tightening around her. There’s a silent reassurance in the way he holds her. I can hear her whimpering, "Alex," her voice is a choked whisper.

He sees the fear in her eyes. "It's okay, Michelle. I'm here. It's over now. Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek in the woods? I always found you. I always will."

“I didn’t mean to leave Rockford. I know how much you went through to get me in there, Alex. It’s just that—-”

Michelle stops, her eyes darting around nervously. “Just—”

“I thought I lost you, Michelle, damn it,” Alexander says, his voice rough. “I thought I lost you.”

A choked laugh, a hollow echo of past joy, escapes Michelle’s lips. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me so easy. I’ll always be your annoyin’ little sister.”

Their embrace feels like a wall, an invisible barrier that shuts me out. I find myself shrinking back, my presence jarring.

They need to be alone, and they need to talk.

“I’m here now,” Alexander says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

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