Page 140 of Branded
But the thunks weren’t stopping.
And I could hear my mom crying out, louder with each whoosh of noise.
My bare toes sank into the carpet as I walked across the room, reached for the knob. My fingers slipped on the cool metal, trying to turn it, but eventually, I managed to get it open and moved into the hall.
The noise was louder there.
But I didn’t go back into my room. Because my mom was nice, so much nicer than my stepdad.
We’d made cookies that afternoon, with extra chocolate chips, and my mom had even let me eat some of the dough before it was cooked.
Even though my stepdad said sweets made little girls fat.
I had liked the cookies even better than the dough, but I’d liked making them with my mom even more.
So I needed to make the thunks stop.
So I walked down the hall, reached for the handle of my mom and stepdad’s room.
Turned it and?—
Gasping, I sat upright, the memories choking me…like those hands had done that night.
“Baby.” Warm palms on my arms, fingers wrapping securely and holding me in place when I would have bolted, and I was so entrenched in the past that it took me several long moments to realize that the hands were gentle.
Not squeezing.
Not bruising.
Not hurting.
Just lightly running up and down my arms.
And paired with a gentle voice.
“Baby, wake up. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Raph’s voice. “Beth, honey. Sugarpie, you’re good, sweetie. You’re okay.”
Eyes flashing open, I saw that I wasn’t hallucinating.
Having nightmares, yes. But not hallucinating.
I was in my house, on my couch. The setup Pru and Marcel had left me with still in place.
And Raph was there.
In my house.
Kneeling in front of my couch.
Putting his hands on my body.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
“You’re safe,” he said again, still in that gentle voice.
That wasn’t what I’d asked.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
