Page 86 of Moth to a Flame

She’s on her back, and I do the only thing I can for her as she sobs and her breaths hitch andfuck. I use my body to shield her.

Just like I did earlier when she had another one of those damn nightmares. Night terrors, if you ask me.

I have my forearms bracketing her face. Knees bent, straddling her.

I build her a fortress with my body. A place no one can get into.

“Regan. Baby. Sweetheart.”

My thumbs wipe away so many tears. My voice changes, shifts. I try fucking everything. A growl, a hiss, a near-shout.

Rosemary won’t barge in on us again. She probably thinks it’s a sex thing. Better this way, for both of them.

Regan needs me now. She needs something no one else can give her.

Only me.

I’m going to find out what it is. Even if it kills me.

Which I’m pretty sure it will.

Something I did—something Isaid—triggered this. Brought back memories of her rape.

The sinking feeling in my gut tells me this is the night that I finally hear about it. I’m ready. Hearing her story will rip my soul in half. It’ll hurt worse than anything I’ve ever gone through.

Dad’s brains splattered on our living room wall and Mom’s erratic, psychotic goodbye note will be nothing in comparison.

I loved my parents.

I live for Regan.

“Regan.”

Her eyes are squeezed shut. Her body is limp beneath me. I wish she’d punch me. Claw at me. Seek comfort.

Anything.

The pain she’s going through paralyzes her. That, too, hurts like a motherfucker.

My heart.

“Whatever it is, you can talk to me.” Just in case she feels shame on top of everything else.

I’ve read enough books, watched enough movies to know it can happen to victims. As if the actual attack wasn’t enough.

“I won’t judge you. I won’t be”—God, I could throw up at that word—“disappointed. I love you. Love means…”

Her eyes open as rivers of tears keep streaming from them. Her hands slide up to my neck, her fingers tugging at my hair.

Good. I’m finally getting it right.

“Love means that I want all of you. Every fucking part.” Her sobs are less agonized. “I’d say the good parts and bad ones, except there aren’t any bad ones where you’re concerned. I don’t see one goddamn thing that I don’t love about you. You could cut me. You could spit on me. Kick me. Burn me. I don’t fucking care, do you understand? I’ll still be here. I’ll still love you the same. I’ll never leave. But I can’t…”

I grip her face hard. It’s all I can do not to scream my frustration at the world. For what it put her through.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

I’m not talking about whether I’ll kill her rapist or not. Whether his death will be a merciful one or so painful that he’ll regret the day he was born.

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