Page 33 of Signed for You

He looks down at me, and I see something different now. I’m not sure if it's in his eyes, or in the reflection through his of my own, but the hate, the anger, the frustration. It's all gone.

“I sure hope you don’t hate me, baby girl.” He stops for a moment, though I know there’s more.

“There was more than one child and even though I would have done it for any child, it was you that fuelled the killing spree. You were on the list of names.”

I freeze. I’m still on the floor next to Liam, staring up at him. Me. Whoever these men were, they were going to take me. Do horrible things to me. Possibly even kill me. I picture myself ten years ago, the innocence, the child that I was, and I want to cry in both anger and frustration but also in gratitude for Liam. Knowing that he did that for me. He spent ten years in prison to protect me. I’m sure he would have done it no matter who the child was, but to know that it was me both breaks and wrenches apart my heart completely.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice is soft, barely there. I feel both ashamed and so grateful that I’m not sure which way my mind is taking me.

Before I have chance to stop him, he’s on the floor with me, pulling me into a hug. Caring for me even after I’ve taken ten years of his life away from him. Guilt is over-riding my senses even though I know rationally that it shouldn’t be.

I feel his hand under my chin, lifting it up to look at him again, and it's only because of the guilt and shame I feel that I’m doing it, otherwise I’m not sure I’d be able to bear looking at the man in front of me. Not the asshole. This poor man that threw away so much of his life to protect me. I was hating him this morning and now I can’t even comprehend what I feel. Something between adoration and overwhelming guilt.

“I’m so sorry you lost your life because of me,” I tell him with a shaky breath, my words cracking.

“I haven’t lost anything. You’re safe, and I’d happily do it again,” he says, “I needed it.” He sounds so strong, so sure.

I’m not convinced by his words, but after so long suffering because of me, or what could have been, I remind myself that he doesn’t need tears. He doesn’t need some girl crying and slobbering all over him. He’s the one that’s suffered, not me. So why am I crying?

I wipe my face, my hands wet from the tears that managed to leak, no matter how much I hate crying.

“I need some fresh air,” I declare, lifting myself from his embrace. “Wanna come?” I ask weakly.

“I’m pretty sure coming would get rid of a lot of tension right about now,” he jokes, and besides myself I literally burst out into the stupidest, most abrupt laugh in a long time.

Did he just? He just made a sex joke. He actually did. My God.

“Where are you going?” he shouts as I walk outside.

“To hell most likely,” I yell back towards him. “But for now, I’m going to go sit on the swing,” I say with a grin, watching as he chuckles to himself.

“It looks nice out here at this time of night.” We had been sat in silence for a while, both in our own heads. The stars have joined us, and it is at times like this that I’m more grateful than ever for the lack of street lights, so that we can truly see the stars.

“It’s my favourite place to be,” I tell him. “Second favourite next to my bed, and the lake,” I explain with a smile. “Have you seen your room?” I ask, having completely forgotten about the transformation I’d completed in there for him through the haze of anger and frustration.

“Yeah, it’s insane in there, baby girl! Have you seen it?” Have I seen it? I bloody did it!

I turn to him now, wondering why Dad wouldn’t have told him.

“I designed and decorated it, Liam.” I laugh. “Of course I’ve seen it”.

“Are you being serious?” I laugh again at his lack of belief in my skills.

I nod at him, taking a breath in and blowing it back out, watching as the cold air turns it to what looks like smoke.

“Do you know what it means when you blow smoke at someone?” he wonders, obviously thinking the same as me about how it looks like smoke.

“That you’re a rude bastard?” I ask.

He chuckles at me. “No, that you want to kiss them.” He smirks at me, but this one, unlike the smile from earlier, is filled with his usual arrogance.

“No, it does not!” I hiss-whisper at him, remembering I can’t shout since we’re outside with neighbours that probably don’t want to hear us at this hour, shoving him in my annoyance. I’m not really annoyed, though I won't tell him that if he can't already tell. He laughs again, regaining himself from my probably far too forceful push of him.

“What is it with you and your terrible jokes today?”

He chuckles heartily at my words, shaking his head from side to side lightly. “Ten years away from women, and I think I’ve forgotten how to act like a gentleman.”

“I’m not so sure that’s true. Apart from the terrible jokes, you’re not doing so bad,” I tell him.

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