Page 43 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Zach shrugs, flashing a cute dimple. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“But why do you care? Any of you?”

Sitting back on his haunches, his brows furrow. “Because… why wouldn’t we? I know you’ve been relying on yourself for a long time, but here in Briar Valley, we’re a family.”

“I don’t have a family.”

“That’s not true.” His widening smile is simple and honest. “If you think Lola would let you leave now, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I don’t know this man. In fact, I don’t know any of them, but I’ve allowed myself to get comfortable already. Nothing is guaranteed in life. I can’t let my guard down. It will only hurt more when this temporary peace is ripped away from me.

“Please move out of my way.” I struggle to my feet, aiming to dodge past him. “I don’t need you to care about me.”

Zach’s eyes soften with sadness. “I think that you do.”

“Stop trying to get in my head.”

“Maybe you need some company in there, Willow. Maybe even some help. You should let someone in for once.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Are you calling me crazy now?”

“I’m saying that we want to help you.”

“And I’m saying that I don’t need your help.”

He grabs my arm again when I try to squeeze past. His grip is tight enough for me to flinch as the past slams into me. I drop my eyes, making myself small and insignificant. Silent. Breakable. Just like the monster wanted.

If I didn’t fight, it would always end quicker. Mr Sanchez would grow bored of the games and crawl on top of me, his breath hot and disgusting. It felt wrong, speeding the whole process up and encouraging the inevitable violation.

Sometimes, I just wanted it all to be over. Enough to let the unthinkable happen. Does that make me at fault, somehow? Did I want it? If anyone else asked me this, I’d never allow a victim to think like that. But the same logic doesn’t always apply to ourselves.

Zach quickly releases me. “Willow?”

My body moves on instinct to assume the position that’s been ingrained in me through years of training. Kneeling on the floor with my palms facing up on my legs, I keep my head lowered and lips sealed.

The world fades away as my eyes close, preparing for the first blow. I can’t hold back a pained gasp as two big hands cup my tear-stained cheeks. It hurts to be touched, even with good intent. Zach’s thumbs softly stroke my skin, and his voice filters in.

“Who did this to you?”

All I can do is shake my head.

“Breathe for me, babe. I’ve got you.”

“Zach… I c-can’t… do this.”

“Just listen to my voice. That’s all.”

His arms wind around my shivering body, and he sinks to the floor beside me. I’m pulled into his lap, and the solid press of his built frame beneath me offers a welcome distraction from the billowing darkness trying to strangle me.

He smells so good, like the fresh pomegranates and tropical fruit I used to look forward to for breakfast. On him, the fragrance is a tantalising promise. The soothing scent drags me from the depths of my nightmare and allows me to take a deep inhale.

“You’re doing good,” he praises in a gentle croon. “Keep breathing nice and deep for me. Nobody is going to hurt you. We’re safe up here.”

“Not s-safe, n-nowhere is safe.”

Rubbing circles into my back, he begins to rock me back and forth like I’m a scared child in need of comfort. I clutch his t-shirt even tighter, dragging in ragged breaths. Arianna used to crawl into my lap like this when she was younger.

With the roles reversed, my head is spinning.

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