Page 112 of Saving Sparrow
“Promise?”
“I swear it, Quentin. You protect the people you love. You don’t hurt us. You don’t manipulate us, and you’re not a coward. I… love you for it.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. My words hadn’t sunk in.
“I swear it,” I said again with more emphasis. His smile fell completely, something else taking its place. Something that made me feel devastated. Something that reminded me of what I’d never have with him. A warning gaze. Or maybe my imagination was running wild again.
Quentin kissed my forehead, his lips resting there a little longer than usual. “I love you too,” he whispered against my skin.
I spun away, fumbling my sponge off the shelf as I internally begged my body not to betray my thoughts. I’d been so good at keeping that part of things under control around them.
“Go check on Miguel, will you? I’m gonna wash my hair.” I thought he’d insist on helping me, but after a handful of quiet seconds he spoke one breathless word.
“Okay.” He left the bathroom, and I sank down to the shower floor.
The rest of the day was pretty bleak. We hung out by the pool a bit. Quentin put some burgers on the grill while Miguel and I read from the same lounge chair, but once the sun went down, we decided to go to bed early.
Quentin kicked out of his sweats when we reached the room, leaving them on the floor before diving under the covers in just his boxer briefs. He’d removed his shirt a while ago.
Miguel dumped his clothes in the hamper, opting to sleep in his underwear too. Hickeys covered his chest. I noticed a few on his back as he headed for the bathroom.
I stripped down in the closet, pulling a green silk nightgown from its hanger. The straps were thin, and the material felt cool falling down my skin. I traded the boxer briefs I wore for the lace ones I’d ordered online. I preferred to sleep in them. The lace felt soft and complemented the nightgowns I wore.
Quentin and Miguel’s eyes were on me as soon as I stepped out of the closet, as if they’d been waiting for me to appear.
“Damn, pretty girl.” Quentin’s drowsy gaze roamed over me.
“You look beautiful,” Miguel said, yawning. “Green is your color.”
I felt too shy to say thanks, so I loosened my braid as I headed over to the bed, sliding under the covers between them. I kissed both their cheeks before Miguel reached over to turn the lamp off.
Quentin held me tighter than he usually did, and I chalked it up to him releasing whatever he couldn’t release onto Miguel after the confrontation with his father. We were all too tired and mentally drained for anything more than a good night’s sleep. Miguel closed me in from the front, and we drifted off.
The skin on my back burned as the faceless man cut into me. I begged him to stop in a voice that wasn’t mine, cried hot and steady tears from a gaze that didn’t belong to me. The pain kept coming, kept increasing while the man shouted scriptures and prayers.
A woman encouraged him, her voice soft and familiar, but I couldn’t see her either.
Suddenly, I couldn’t speak or see straight, couldn’t inhale or exhale as something invisible wrapped around my neck.
In the distance, voices shouted at me, growing closer with every breath I couldn’t take. They yelled for me to open my eyes, for me to breathe. I knew those voices. They were kind and scared. They wanted to help me.
I did my best to reach them, trying to focus on the way my heart felt when they called my name. I couldn’t get to them, though. The knife had cut too deep this time, keeping me pinned to the table. I gagged from the agony, the invisible band squeezing tighter around my throat.
A sharp sting on my face distracted me from the wound along my back, but within seconds, the blood trickling down my sides returned my attention to the pain.
There was another sharp sting to my cheek, the other one this time, and the kind voices became a string. I tugged on it, their cries becoming clearer as I pulled and pulled.
“Elliott! Wake up!”
Their voices were garbled, thick, almost like I was pulling myself up from underwater. I kept tugging on the string anyway, faster and faster,as their shouts became more panicked. Tugging until I’d broken free of the surface.
My eyes popped open with a gasp, my arms reaching behind me, fingers scraping against the wet fabric there, trying to get to the wound.
“Elliott!”
“Elliott!”
The two distinct voices called my name again. I could hear them better now, but I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t see anything but blood.
