Page 186 of Hymns of the Broken
Now, I can’t stop thinking that maybe I deserved it. Maybe wanting those things broughthimto me.
A sob tries to claw its way out of my chest, but I swallow it down and press my face into the pillow. Riot’s hand finds my hair, brushing it so soothingly that I almost break down.
I have to tell them. They have to know. It’s not fair to let them think I’m someone I’m not.
I force a breath. Riot kisses my temple. Jasper’s hand tightens, like he can feel me slipping.
I want to trust them.
I do.
But what if this changes everything?
I roll onto my side, throat burning. “There’s something I need to say,” I whisper, voice shaking. “I can’t keep it in. Not after everything.”
They both freeze—only for a second—then press closer, holding me steady as I fall apart.
I stare at the wall, fingers twisting in the sheets. “I always thought… I always wondered what it would be like to be taken and tied up. Not to have a choice for a little while. All the books I read—men with masks, knives, chains—those scenes always did something to me. I liked the fear, the danger, the surrender. I liked it. I thought it would be safe, because I’dchosenit.”
My voice cracks. “But withhim, I didn’t choose. I was just a possession to him—something to break. And I can’t stop thinking about how I reacted, even when I hated it, even when I was scared. My body still—” I choke. “—still wanted things. It’s like my body didn’t get the message that it wasn’t a game, it wasn’t a book, it wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not with him.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t look at them. I can’t.
“I keep thinking maybe it’s my fault that I’m sick, or broken, because I wanted things like that. Because maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop my body, why I…” My words fall apart. “Why I came for him. Why, sometimes I moaned or begged, even though my heart was screaming no. I keep blaming all those books, all those fantasies. Maybe if I weren’t so fucked up—”
Riot’s hands come up, cupping my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. He’s fierce, trembling with rage and love. “Stop. That’s not on you. That’s not your fault. Wanting to give up control isn’t the same as someone taking it. Your fantasies don’t make you weak, or wrong, or responsible for what hedid.”
Jasper kisses my shoulder, his voice rough with emotion. “It doesn’t make you anything but brave—for saying it out loud. For surviving it.”
“But I feel dirty,” I whisper. “I feel ruined.”
Riot shakes his head. “He doesn’t get to ruin that part of you, Sawyer. That darkness is still yours. If you want it back, we’ll help you take it. On your terms. When you want it. Only ever when you say yes.”
Jasper leans in, his lips at my temple. “You’re ours. All of you. The parts you love, the parts you hide. We’ll never be afraid of your fantasies, Little Demon. And we’ll never make you ashamed of wanting more.”
Riot nods, thumb wiping my tears. “You’re not broken. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you if we have to.”
I collapse against them, breath hitching, body shaking—but for the first time, a tiny piece of hope sparks in my chest. Maybe I can still be all the things I want. Maybe darkness can be safe again, if I choose it.
Maybe with them I can still be whole.
JASPER
She’s between us, Riot’s shirt swallowing her, hair damp with sweat and tears. My hand hasn’t left her hip—won’t leave her hip—like if I let go, all those ugly thoughts in her head will come back and take her from me again.
But little by little, I feel it. The tension is bleeding out ofher. Her body softens, her shoulders unclench, her breath settles as she finally lets us hold her.
Riot brushes her hair back, presses a kiss to her forehead, and I tuck the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“Stay,” she whispers, voice barely there.
“We’re not fucking going anywhere,” I murmur. Riot grunts in agreement, arms locking her against his chest. For the first time since we pulled her from hell, she closes her eyes and doesn’t flinch when I touch her. Doesn’t pull away. Just melts.
Within minutes, her breathing slows even more—deep, unsteady at first, then evening out, lashes fanned dark against her cheeks. She’s asleep. Finally. Safe between us, at least for tonight.
I exhale, thetension I didn’t even know I was still holding, finally draining from my chest. My hand stays onher, thumb rubbing gentle circles intoherhipbone. She makes a soft sound, almost a sigh, and I know—she trusts us. Even if just for this moment.
Riot’s hand is splayed wide over her ribcage, thumb rubbing slow, endless circles. He looks at me over the top of her head, face tight, haunted. I see his jaw working, like he’s chewing up everything he wants to say and can’t spit any of it out.
