Page 28 of Darkened Promises

I know as soon as I ask that it’s not what they want to hear. Nate tenses behind me, and his chest vibrates with the growl he’s trying to hold back. Noah’s more subtle about it, but his shoulders hunch.

But I do. I need a minute to…I don’t even know.

“Of course. We’ll just be outside the door if you need us. For anything,” Noah promises, and he tries to pull Nate along with him.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Please?”

He huffs, and usually it would bring a smile to my face. But I don’t know if I can smile anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel any of the lighter emotions ever again. It feels like they were cut out of me with every slice he made against my skin.

The door clicks shut, and my eyes slide back to the mirror. The recoil when I stare at myself is still there, though not as startling. The first time was a shock I hadn’t been prepared for.

I stretch my hand out toward the stranger staring back at me, and she does the same.

Somehow I look the same, but I don’t feel it.

If you remove all the cuts littering my body, the bruises painted across my skin, the red rings around my wrists and neck, the dark smudges beneath my eyes, I still look like me. Inside however, I don’t feel familiar at all. Almost as if I’ve been placed in someone else’s mind.

And I don’t know what to do with this new person.

My gaze is drawn to my neck, my bare neck. They must’ve removed the collar; the weight of it no longer pushes me into the ground. It wasn’t uncomfortable to wear, unless I was pulled by it, and it wasn’t tight or heavy. Not physically, at least. Without the collar, I realise how suffocated I felt by it.

I’m not sure how long I stand there staring at the unfamiliarity, but I startle when a knock sounds on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Noah asks from the other side.

“Sorry, yes. Just a minute.” I fumble, realising it must have been a while. My body is completely dry. Not seeing any clothes, I wrap a towel around me and leave my hair damp down my back.

When I pull the door open, I have to force myself not to step back as Nate’s large bulk blocks the exit. I know that none of them would ever hurt me, but after having him creep up behind me so many times, sudden movements make me cower.

“Clothes?” he offers, holding up a bundle.

“Thank you.” I’m about to take them, but he pulls away.

“Let me.” Again, it’s a relief that my body and mind don’t flinch away from him. It’s easier having him take care of me than it is to muster up the strength to do it myself.

He crouches, but his head is still almost level with my chest. I use his shoulder for balance as he lifts each of my legs and inserts them into a pair of soft fleece joggers. The hoodie he slips over my head isn’t one of mine. It instantly swamps me; the dark grey material falls well below my hands and past my hips to my thighs. The scent is familiar. It’s all Nate.

He’s so strong, unwavering, and having his hoodie wrapped around me somehow provides a measure of comfort.

I’m nudged towards his bed, then falter when I see Moshi peering out from his little igloo bed sitting atop Nate’s bedcovers. The breath catches in my lungs, then tears fall again.

He’s okay.

They saved him too.

The tabby kitten takes a step out of his place of safety, somehow still recognising me even when I don’t.

“Hey, c-cutie,” I blubber, and my chest caves as I climb onto the bed. Even with me disappearing and him moving into Nate’s room, he still doesn’t leave me wanting and nudges his head into my fingers.

“He’s been okay?” I ask, not taking my eyes off him. He purrs, butting his head against me as I continue stroking him.

“Eats a lot. Shits and pisses a lot too. Will only sleep if his bed’s on mine,” Nate grumbles.

I look up at Nate; he’s staring down at the kitten with what I’m sure is a hint of affection. Moshi wanders over to Nate, meowing loudly, and his tail swishes.

“No, I told you. No more.”