Page 28 of Redemption

“My room.” I look up at the house to where I know my old room is situated. The windows are still covered over with wooden boards to keep it dark inside.

“Can you guys search there? We’ll take somewhere else,” Gawain orders.

“No. I need to search there,” I tell him, pulling him aside. “I can do this. You don’t need to worry. It’s about facing my past.”

“Ok, but as soon as it gets too much, we’re leaving. There are other ways to find him. It’s what we guys do.”

“Deal.”

Once Seth unlocks the front door, Gawain leads us into the house.

“Are the dead bodies gone?” I ask as we walk past the lounge area. I sniff the air thinking they would smell foul by now.

“It’s all clean and put back together.” Gawain smiles, and I poke my head around the door of the lounge to see it does indeed look ready for a catalogue sale. As long as any potential purchasers aren’t aware of what went on here.

I follow Gawain up the stairs, and we pause outside the room which was mine.

“Still sure?”

“Yes.”

He opens the door, and assaulted by the memories of what happened in here, I stumble backward but take deep breaths to calm myself.

“Megan.”

“A minute.” I manage to get out. Gawain stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I welcome his warmth. It gives me the strength to enter the room. It’s as I remember it. Laying on the table still are the instruments, which he used to torment me. The dirty mattress I used for a bed has been removed, but that is the only difference.

I take a few steps farther into the room and stand in the middle of it. It seems bigger than when I was here a few weeks ago. It felt claustrophobic back then as it clawed into my soul every day—the darkness of the room mixing with the screams the four walls held.

Gawain walks over to the windows and with his bare hands rips the shutters from them. Light floods into the room, and I flinch automatically. Dust flies around the room, and I watch it catch on the sun’s rays. It’s beautiful. Dark to light.

Gawain places the shutter down and proceeds to search through what little there is in the room.

“I might have to get a crowbar in here. See if we can bring up some floorboards.”

I nod at him, the words still stuck in the back of my throat, but the heavy oppressiveness of this room is lifting. The tools M used on me shine brighter in the light. They draw me to them. Taking small footsteps over, I run a hand over them—they are cold to the touch. In fact the whole room is, despite it being a hot day outside. I pick a tool up. It’s one he used inside me. It ripped and tore at delicate flesh until I was in agony. I shut my eyes, expecting flashbacks of the pain, but nothing comes.

“Megan.” Gawain comes up behind me. “You ok?”

“Nothing,” I tell him and his brows furrow in confusion. “I feel nothing. I don’t feel scared.”

He pulls me into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m proud of you. You’re healing.”

“I am.”

Gawain cocks his head and looks over my shoulder.

“What’s that?”

I turn around to see what he’s looking at. It’s a picture of a woman M had in the room. He placed it there the day after he’d taken me for the first time, and it stayed there.

“It’s a picture,” I tell Gawain. “I don’t know who she is. M said to me once that she’s the reason he’s the way he is because she was so weak. She looks a similar age to him. Maybe she’s an old girlfriend who did something wrong to him or she died.”

Gawain picks up the picture, and his face pales.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as a cold shiver cascades over my skin.

“She’s not dead.”

“The woman?”

Gawain looks at me and says, “I don’t understand?”

He then turns the picture to face me.

“Megan, this is my mother.”

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