Page 81 of Splitting Secrets
All the things I’ve heard the Supremes and the leaders of the rebellion regurgitate in their custody battle over her. They each sit on their invisible thrones, barking out orders. Is there even a difference between the two anymore? It seems the rebellion has lost sight of what matters lately at the prospect of wringing Sonny out for all she’s worth to further their own agenda. Even her parents are willing to push the limits.
What would this woman do if I repeated the words that have made me want to smash my fist through the face of every “leader” who has realized how valuable Sonny is?
Would she feel just as protective? Would she rage just as severely as I have?
Something tells me she would, and that earns respect in my eyes.
“I plan to shield her from all of this as much as possible,” I promise. “That’s always been my objective, even when it didn’t appear that way.”
“Then I suppose we’re on the same page.” She nods toward Sonny’s lifeless form. “Now, try again. I think you’re getting close.”
43
Sonny
“It’s been four days.”
“She needs rest.”
“After that episode? I don’t doubt it. But she needs food and water, too.”
The voices argue over my head, though I feel so far away from them. I’m trapped in this never ending, emotionless abyss. Like floating in the ocean or flying through space, gravity can’t even touch me here. No one can get to me here.
No one can hurt me.
There are no traps or prisons.
No life or death.
I am nothing and everything all at once.
“How long has she been like this?” a deep voice growls. It’s different from the ones that have been present, yet so familiar.
“A few days,” someone answers, their words shaky.
“And no one bothered to tell me?” the angry man asks.
“We were dealing with our own problems,” another booming masculine snarks back.
“Why would we tell you?” Someone else dares to ask, and I’m instantly filled with rage at their words.
But this rage doesn’t feel like mine. It doesn’t claim me in the same way, shaking me to my core.
A warm hand lays across on my arm, its weight boring into me more than it should. It’s comfortable and secure. A buoy thrown out into the vastness of my mind.
“You’re safe, Little Nightmare,” the first voice assures softly into my ear. “Nothing can get to you anymore.”
Something about his promise makes the ice around my heart begin to thaw.
“Don’t tell her that,” someone barks, sending my shield back up. “This happened because she’s been refusing to address her emotions.”
“It’s like a dam broke,” a female agrees hollowly. “We’ve been drowning in it for days.”
I focus on the hand that’s on my arm. That voice...it’s the only one I want to hear. Everyone else needs to leave so I can listen to him some more. Maybe he can help me out of this purgatory.
“She doesn’t need to feel anything she doesn’t want to,” my savior tells them, and I mentally bob my head in agreement.
Yeah, scram, I want to say, but my lips are like stone.
