“I don’t care if he didn’t love me, Nicholas,” I said in between sobs. “But what he did was pure evil. You don’t do that to a person. You do not do that to your child. You just don’t!”
“Your father should rot in jail for this if you ask me,” Nicholas said. “But the next step is up to you. And whatever you decide, I want you to know that I will be there for you.”
As I rested my head on his shoulder, I realized that I was thankful for him. When I first met him, I wanted to take him down and burn him to the ground. But if I did, then what would have happened to me tonight if he wasn’t there? If he didn’t find it in his good soul to come to my rescue and take me in tonight when I had nowhere safer to go, I’d be on the street, half-naked and crying over my lost virtue.
“And while you’re figuring things out, you’re welcome to stay here. I will keep you safe and offer you whatever help you need.”
Nicholas sat on my chair, taking me with him. He put an arm around me as I leaned my head against his shoulder. Never in a million years did I imagine myself being held like this by a man. But I must admit that right at this moment. I felt as if there was no other place I would rather be and no other person I would rather be with.
“You did great out there, kitten,” he whispered. “You put up a very good fight. If you didn’t manage to get out of the house, I would not have been able to help you.”
“The bastard forgot to lock the gates.”
“Too bad for him. He didn’t know how strong you were.”
He was right. That maniac underestimated me. So did my father. They totally missed the fact that even with my small figure or fragile frame, I would not go down without a fight.
“Nicholas…”
“Hmm?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m glad you were there tonight. At the right time.”
He was silent for a while, and then he said, “When you didn’t answer my calls, I thought I’d go to your house and check up on you. I remember you were accusing me of knocking you up that first night you slept here. I just wanted to know if I should tell my mother that she was going to be a grandmother soon.”
I could hear the laughter in his voice in spite of his attempt to be serious.
“You’d tell your mother that even though you were pretty sure, you didn’t touch me?”
“Well, you’re Ken Clarke. And if you put it in your head that I’m the father of that kid, I’m sure you’ll find a way to prove it, and I will be helpless to defend myself. When it came to the two of us, you were always right, and I was always wrong. So why not just accept my fate, right?” I felt his chest shake when he chuckled.
I sighed. “No. The tests were all negative. So I guess you’re off the hook.” Then I remembered that I hadn’t even apologized for hitting him in the face and accusing him of taking advantage of me when he was nothing short of being a gentleman. “Nicholas…”
He cut off the apology that was going to come out of my lips. “Shh… I know. Whatever.”
For the first time that night, I was able to smile genuinely. “Yeah. Whatever.”
***
I woke up in the middle of the night because my throat went dry, and I needed to drink water. I sat up on the bed. The whole room was covered in darkness. I stood up to turn the lights on. Suddenly, I noticed movement from the other side of the room. He moved swiftly, soundlessly toward me. The next thing I knew, he had me pinned between the mattress and his body.
I screamed, but his rough palm covered my mouth. I struggled to get away, but I was trapped. He was too strong for me. I heard the devilish laughter of a person standing at the foot of my bed, behind the man. I could only see his silhouette, not his face. But I knew that figure. I knew that man. My father.
“Help me,” I pleaded, tears running down my cheeks.
Thunder bellowed, and a flash of lightning illuminated the room for a few seconds. It was a small fraction of time, but it was enough to register my father’s sinister expression in my mind.
“No! No!” I shouted. I punched my fists in the air in my futile attempt to escape from the man. “No! No! Help me!”
“Ken! Ken!” I heard a different voice this time. This one sounded worried, alarmed, but gentle at the same time. “Kitten, wake up! Come back to me…”
I felt somebody calling me, shaking me. I dared to open my eyes. The room was not dark anymore. The lights were on, and the face I saw was not of the unfamiliar maniac who had every intention of shredding my soul to pieces by defiling my fragile body. Instead, I saw an incredibly handsome face, angelic and devilish at the same time. His usually light brown eyes were somewhat dark this time—full of wariness and anger. But his expression was soft and gentle. I could see genuine concern in his eyes.
I blinked twice before I realized that I knew the man in front of me. The vile, lust-filled maniac and the evil laughter of my father were nowhere in the room. They were just in my head, in my nightmares, in my memories.
I was sweating and shaking. My heart was pounding loudly inside my ribcage. I was not breathing evenly.
“N—Nicholas!” I whispered hoarsely.
I sat up on the bed and threw myself in Nicholas’ arms, hugging him tightly, trying to find some comfort, some assurance that the worst was over.
The storm raged outside. Thunder roared in five-second intervals. But it was nothing compared to the torment that was consuming my broken spirit.
Nicholas enclosed me in an iron embrace, locking me in the warmth of his body, giving me the security I needed.
“Shhh…” he said gently. “Hush, kitten. I’m here, and you can trust me.”
I continued crying against his chest. The nightmare felt so real. The memories were so vivid.
I thought I would fully recover from this. I thought it would be soon forgotten.
When we went to bed, Nicholas insisted I sleep in his room while he took the couch just outside the bedroom. I thought I was strong enough to get over this ordeal. That I could do this on my own, I wouldn’t need anybody besides me—to hold me, comfort me, and tell me that everything would be okay. But maybe it was too soon.
Nicholas shifted his body without letting me go. He leaned on the headboard and continued holding me in his arms, making me rest my cheek against his chest. I continued crying, soaking his white shirt with my endless tears. He caressed my head gently and allowed me to cry and unload all the emotional pain I had been carrying for the past six years. He made me feel that it was okay to be weak, to feel pain because I was only human.
When, at last, my tears subsided, Nicholas kept still, listening to my breathing, feeling my pulsing heartbeat against his body. We listened to the murmur of the rain outside the window. He didn’t ask, but I knew he understood. I didn’t say anything, but I knew he could hear every word I wanted to say.
I felt him move slightly to reach for the light switch beside the bed. He turned off the lights except for the one in the far corner of the room as if he knew that I didn’t want to be in the dark. He didn’t let me go, as if he understood that I didn’t want to be alone. Not yet.
I closed my eyes and allowed my senses to calm down. After a few minutes, in the sanctuary of Nicholas’ embrace, I finally let my exhausted body and scathed spirit rest. This time, I floated peacefully into a dreamless sleep.
When I opened my eyes again, it was bright and sunny outside, as if the night didn’t spend time playing in the rain with lightning and thunder. I was covered in a white duvet, delicate and soft, in contrast to the strong and firm chest where my head was resting on. Both served the same purpose—to keep me warm, to give me comfort.
I was hoping that Nicholas would still be sleeping so I could slowly ease my way out of his arms and hide from him, even for just a few minutes. But when I looked up, my eyes instantly met his. He was wide awake. In fact, he looked as if he didn’t get any sleep at all.
“Good morning,” he whispered.