by Willow Hayes
I jolt up in bed shaking. I can almost feel his grubby hands on my body and his breath in my ear. I shudder and race for the bathroom in time to empty my dinner into the toilet. I flush, wipe my mouth, and brush my teeth, twice. I decide I need a shower because I can’t shake the feeling of the bastard’s hands on my body. I turn the water to scalding and think over what I saw. Both dreams were more vivid and detailed than they have ever been. I feel confused because I get the sense that the dream of me as a child is real somehow, but the dream about the bastard seems different. I shudder at the memory of his ‘punishments,’ but I don’t remember that day going like that. I was traumatized, so I could simply not be remembering correctly, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is off, and it leaves me feeling more anxious than before.
I dry off and put a fresh tank top and shorts on, but the shaking starts again as I’m about to climb into bed. The thought of returning to the nightmare and feeling his hands on my body again terrifies me. And gods, I loved Callie, but I can’t stand dreaming about her like that every night.
Akito nudges my hand and points his nose towards the door. “Do you need to go outside?” He shakes his head but pads over to the door, waiting. Okay, not sure what’s going on. I open the door and instead of turning right toward the outside door he goes left and sits down right in front of Teo’s door. “No! No! I can’t do that, Akito,” I whisper to him. I turn to leave, but he parks himself in front of me blocking my escape. “I can’t just knock on his door and ask to come in. It’s the middle of the night! Nightmare or no, I just can’t.” I shake out my hands and decide I’ll punch out the memory of the bastard and his hands. As I turn around Teo’s door opens.
I spin back around, eyes wide, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. I don’t have to though because he says, “Why can’t you knock on my door, little Spitfire?”
My face flames, and I look away. The guilt and shame are eating away at me from the inside out, and I can’t let him see that in my eyes. He steps closer and puts a finger under my chin, gently turning my face to meet his eyes. Everything is so raw, and I can’t stand the idea of his rejection, so I shrug him off and turn away.
He snags my arm and pulls me into a hug that breaks the dam holding back my tears. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t push me to tell him what’s wrong, he simply holds me and lets me cry. “I don’t want to see her lifeless eyes anymore, Teo! Why can’t I make it stop?” I shudder as I take a gasping breath. I can’t believe I said that. I haven’t even told Rya what I see in my nightmares. I go rigid. “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t do this. I’m sorry I disturbed you,” I manage to stammer out and try to pull away from him.
Teo only holds me tighter and doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then he gently kisses the top of my head and whispers softly to me, “Please don’t pull away, Spitfire.” I still myself and listen to his words. “I won’t ask any questions, and you don’t have to say anything, but please don’t go. You slept so well the night I stayed with you. Let me do that for you. Please.” I sit on a precipice unsure which way to lean when I fall. Teo speaks up again, “Spitfire, don’t overthink this. I know you won’t sleep again tonight if you walk away. Let me help.”
I hesitate only for a moment longer before I nod. He squeezes me tighter then leads me into his room. I look around, not really talking anything in. He leads me to the bed, and I crawl in. He rounds the bed and slides in before reaching over to drag me across until I’m laying on his hard chest. He wraps his arm around me and lightly brushes his fingers over my hip in a relaxing rhythm. Another shudder runs through me as I suck in a big breath. Teo is more than I ever thought. He comes across as a cocky playboy and maybe he is those things, but he’s so much more. I don’t have it in me to say anything substantial but manage a quiet “Thank you,” before dreamless sleep claims me.
Thirty-One
Kenna
“You keep dropping your right arm. Try it again,” Nakoa growls in frustration. I adjust my grip and execute the double sword stroke on the training post. “Better. Let’s move into sparring. I think you’re ready to try it with your weapons, but we will start slow.”
This brings a smile to my face, and I dash off to trade the practice swords for my short swords. We walk through the series of attacks and blocks we have been working on. If feels different but not extraordinarily so. After going through the maneuvers he announces we will speed things up, but I will be the only one attacking. “I want to see how your speed improves when you focus on attacking only.”
I move through the different strokes again. As I get comfortable with the weight of my swords my speed increases. The clash of blade against blade echoes in the space. I start to grin because the crazy amount of time I’ve spent hitting that damn post has started to pay off. “What are you grinning about, Firefly?” he asks between blocks, a smile tugging on his lips.
“I love that my work is paying off after hitting that fucking post so many times.” I lunge forward, but he blocks it with ease.
“You’ve put in the practice hours, and now you get to see the fruits of your labor. Stay focused though, you do have blades with sharp edges now,” he says with a wink. I roll my eyes but refocus on my attacks. It helps to know that he is so fast that even if I screw up an attack he’ll be able to block it with ease.
When we wrap up the session he gives me a few pointers on how to adjust my grip on the hilt and how the additional weight means I may need to adjust my swing. I decide to stay and practice on my own with his new feedback. I feel him watching me for a short time, but he wanders off at some point, and I lose myself in the motions. For a few moments I don’t think of the attack and the ‘could have beens.’ For those few moments there is peace.
I hear another thwack of one of Callum’s arrows hitting the mark. Since the attack he’s been shooting almost every day and before that he hadn’t shot at all. I grab my camera and decide to watch him work. I quietly open the door and slip out, but knowing Callum he knows I’m here.
I watch as he places another of the stunning arrows and draws back the string. He’s beautiful when he shoots. His face fierce with focus and his body moving fluidly. I lift my camera as he raises the bow again and take a few pictures. At the sound of my camera he turns to me with a half-smile then turns back to the target. He empties his quiver while I watch then walks down range to retrieve his arrows.
I don’t want to break the magic of the moment, so I say nothing. Once he’s finished pulling all of them he turns back to me and asks, “Would you like to learn?” I’m shocked by his offer but quickly say yes. I put the cap on my lens and set my camera down.
Walking to him, I know my eyes are wide, but I’m just too excited to care. Once by his side he shows me which hand to hold the bow in and how to grip it. I feel the same cry of recognition from my magic at holding his bow, and it makes me smile. It takes me a few tries, but eventually he’s satisfied. Then we work on what he called ‘nocking’ an arrow onto the string and how to hold the string.
He indicates that I should aim and shoot. The arrow drops a foot from where I’m standing with an undignified clatter. He laughs softly, the sound warming my heart, and steps behind me, “Your string hand has to come to here.” He indicates a place on my cheek, touching so lightly I’m not even sure he made contact. “Your bow hand is gripping too tightly.” He adjusts my grip, and I stop breathing at his closeness.
After adjusting I try again, this arrow actually hitting the target, although nowhere near the center. Stepping up behind me again he has me draw the string back and hold it. “Where were you aiming?” I tell him where I was looking, and he tells me to aim lower, he checks my grip, and steps back. The arrow only hits the outer circle of the target, but it’s closer than before. “Good. Aim a bit lower.” I do, and it hits just outside of center.
“This is amazing! It’s an elegant weapon, and I can see why it’s your choice.” I turn my grin on Callum to find his midnight blue eyes on
me with an indecipherable look on his face. With my inspection his look disappears, and he smiles warmly at me.
“We will have to get you a bow then. It is a good weapon. I think we could find a way to use your fire with it and make it doubly effective.” He reaches out to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear, skimming my cheek as he does, making my breath hitch at the contact. “Ómorfos,” the unfamiliar word rolls off his tongue as he whispers it almost more to himself than to me. He gives me a small smile and bends to take his bow back. I watch as he walks to the door, realizing something has changed in Callum, but I’m not sure what.
Thirty-Two
Teo
I jolt upright in bed, my heart pounding and hands shaking. I’m haunted by the day I found my family and village slaughtered. Only this time, when I approach the pile of everyone I knew and loved, Kenna is on top. Her eyes vacant, face forever frozen in fear. It’s been years since I’ve dreamt of that horrific day. But since the night I sat helpless, while Kenna walked out of the building in the clutches of those fuckers, I have dreamt of my family, and Kenna, every night. The only night I slept without nightmares was when Kenna came to my door and let me hold her. I glance at the clock to see that it’s just after four in the morning. I shake my head; I won’t be going back to sleep now.
I’ve not played in months and this morning, I need to. I throw some sweats and a black tee on and walk silently out to the living room. I approach the glossy instrument as one who is starving approaches his first meal. I run my fingers along the surface and feel my muscles begin to loosen. I slide onto the bench and release a shaky breath. I place a foot on the pedal and reach out to touch the familiar worn keys. I play a song my mother used to sing to me when I was a child and scared. The familiar lines of the music wash over me like waves and begin to ease the ache.
I have no idea how long I play or even what I play. I only know that as I play the fear and anger fade, and then there is nothing but the music. I become aware of Kenna padding softly down the hallway. I have never played for a woman who wasn’t family before. In all the years I’ve been playing since my family died it has always been just for me. Because I needed to play.
There’s no question as to whether I will continue to play when she enters the room though. She is different. She is more, and I can show her this part of me. Kenna pauses at the doorway, watching me intently. The song I play for her is of a man who longs for home. When the last notes fade I lift my eyes to take in her sleep rumpled clothes, hair piled messily on top of her head, and blue eyes keenly watching me. “That was beautiful Teo. Sad, but beautiful.”
I give her a small smile and motion for her to join me. I scoot over a bit to give her room. When she sits I breathe in her warm neroli scent, and her comforting presence makes me feel things I’m not ready to explore yet. Instead, I play upbeat tunes and make my little spitfire laugh with my antics, and her smile is my smile. She feels like home.
Thirty-Three
Kenna
It’s been two weeks since the attack. I pretend to be okay, but I’m not. I miss Rya, but more than anything I feel scared and I’m buried under an avalanche of guilt. I almost lost her like I lost Callie. All because I made another selfish choice. The violence and brutality in my nightmares seems to increase night by night, and I find myself sleeping less and less.
I vacillate between pushing hard in every session and not giving a damn. My moods cycle just as much, and I’m sure I’ve been an utter joy to be around since the attack. I try not to blame the guys because logically I know it wasn’t their fault, but a part of me does. I trusted them to keep me safe, and when I needed them they weren’t there. At the same time, I was going to go out with or without them, so if they hadn’t been there Rya would probably be dead, and gods only knows where I would be.
As I sit in Luka’s office I watch the dust particles float around in the shaft of sunlight coming in through the window. The book in my lap just can’t hold my attention. My leg swings back and forth over the armrest in an agitated rhythm. “Want to talk about it?” Luka asks softly.
I look up to find Luka studying me with a sad smile. I give him a small smile and a half truth, “I’m having a hard time letting go of that night, but I’ll be alright.” I shrug. I’m sure he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push. “Actually,” a thought having just occurred to me. “Do you know if any information was retrieved from the kidnappers?”
He sadly shakes his head. “They were professionals and covered their tracks well. They wouldn’t give up any information, and I couldn’t track any records digitally. I’m afraid it’s a dead-end.” I nod and move my attention back to the book to try to take in what I’m reading.
My training session with Nakoa today failed spectacularly. We were working through a few attacks with my short swords, but after the second time I screwed up because my mind wasn’t there he called it quits. Now I’m sitting on the small couch in my room trying to read through one of the books Luka gave me.
I’ve spent more time in here since the attack. I feel too much, and it’s too hard to hide it from the guys. Akito is curled around my legs, his face on top of my thigh, and his warm eyes watch me. I run my fingers through his warm fur and feel my thoughts spin, focusing on nothing and everything. My phone lights up with a call, startling me out of my reverie. I’m surprised to see that it’s Reg, then my heart stops, thinking the worst. I answer the call, my heart in my throat, “Hey Reg, what’s up?”
“Hey there, Killer! How are you, hon?” His mellow gravelly voice putting me at ease.
“Busy training here. Let me tell you what though, I thought I was all set when it came to fighting, but these guys are all crazy fast with their supernatural speed and shit.” I laugh.
“You’ll get it. You always do.” He chuckles.
“How are things with you? With the class?” I ask eagerly, grateful for a small dose of normal.
“I’m great, hon. Miss seeing your face around here, but things are good. The class is great. The kids miss you too, but they are progressing nicely. You’ve done a great job with them.” I blush at his praise, grateful to hear they are all doing well.
“Not that I don’t love to hear from you, but did you call for a reason?” I try to redirect the conversation.
“Oh, right. I’ve got a letter here for you. It’s a fancy envelope with your name scrawled across.” My heart completely seizes up, and my panic spikes. “I wasn’t sure if it was gym business or if somebody dropped it by here on accident, so I thought I’d call and ask if you wanted me to open it or get it to you somehow?”
I manage to squeak out the words, “Don’t open it Reg. I’ll have someone come by and pick it up for me okay? You being nice to the security Nakoa sent over?” Gods, please let him be gracious with them.
“Of course, hon. The guys either spend time making fun of them or worshiping them, but they’re comfortable and making sure we are all safe. Is everything okay? You’ve got me a bit worried now.” His voice goes from jovial to concerned with my line of questioning.
“Everything’s fine, Reg. Don’t worry,” I attempt to sound casual. “I’ll send someone by in a few to pick up the envelope. I gotta go, but I’m so glad you called.”
“Alright hon, take care of yourself and call me later.” He disconnects the call, and a sob finally breaks free. I find Nakoa and fill him in on the envelope. He sends Luka and Teo to grab it and to check in with the security guys who are watching the gym. Waiting for them is painful, and I find myself pacing the living room. Nakoa tries to distract me, but I can’t focus on anything. Akito paces with me looking up at me frequently, checking on me.
When the guys finally arrive I hurry to snag the envelope from them and open it. I pull out a letter, two papers fluttering to the floor when I do. I bend down to pick them up, and when I flip them over I scream, my hand flying to my mouth. I start shaking all over, and I can’t stop staring at the same image I’ve seen in my nightmares for years. A body. Callie’s
body. Bile climbs my throat, and I barely make it to the trash can in time for the contents of my stomach to empty into it. As I hold onto the edge of the trash can the pictures are slipped from my hands.
Nakoa’s voice is confused and concerned when he asks, “Kenna, why would someone send you pictures of a dead child?”
I shudder and take a deep breath. “Callie. Her name is Callie. She was one of my foster sisters, and she died while I lived in the house with her.” I can’t bear to tell them more, hating that they already know more than I ever wanted to share. I remember the dropped letter, and I go to retrieve it but reading the words only makes the bile rise again.
“What does the letter say, Kenna?”
