Chapter 8: A New Kind of Peace

I sit with my back against the wall for a while, adjusting myself to stay in the light as I watch the sun move across the room. I'm so relaxed I have to fight to keep my eyes open; I can feel myself drifting in and out. It doesn't take long for my lids feel like lead so I give in, feeling completely tranquil until my mind begins replaying the events from this morning with Mom. I can even smell the cigarettes and booze on her breath. I'm bracing myself for another smack when the scene suddenly changes and I see my father pushing me on a park swing. I'm maybe only five years old and I'm laughing as I beg him to push me harder. When he does, I instantly fall off, his voice screaming my name, becoming its own echo. I look up and can't see my dad anywhere because a black mist forms from the ground up, blacking out my vision. It's so dark that panic starts rising in my stomach because I know I'm alone. I hear my name and watch as the mist slowly begins to morph into the shape of a man.

My body starts to tremble and when I try to get up to run I'm frozen and can't do anything but watch. The black shadow man gets closer and reaches out, almost touching me. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. He backs away immediately and I'm suddenly flushed with a renewed sense of calm. I'm no longer terrified, but just like the house, I sense something very alluring about him. When the shadow man reaches for me again, I flinch, jerking myself away. Everything fades.

My eyes pop open to an almost pitch black room. I'm disoriented but I can see dim light coming in through the open window. Reality slams into my brain and I bolt up.

I'm still in the house.

Holy shit!

My body doesn't have time to catch up with my mind as I run as fast as I can, nearly tripping when I jump through the window. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through every single vein, my heart hammering against my chest. I can't get a deep breath and have to stop. I'm so lightheaded I bend over, trying to get a grip before I throw up.

I'm panicking and briefly pinch the inside of my wrist, hoping it will take my mind off the nausea.

I don't want to throw up.

Please don't throw up.

I feel my watch instead and look down at the time. I swallow the bile already in my throat because I can tell it's late. My eyes go wide while my hand automatically jerks to my mouth.

12:17?

In the morning?

Holy shit, how did I lose nearly nine hours?

From the moment she looked up at the house, I recognized her. I remained hidden and watched her approach the window, coaxing her to keep going. She was hesitant at first and even attempted to leave, but I brought her back, admiring her delicate features as she slid through the open frame. Her beauty took my breath away and it was everything I could do not to reach out and touch her long, honey strands as they dropped off her shoulder.

She drifted around the room, gliding her fingers across the mantle as if reminiscing about another time from years gone by. I hoped so badly she would recognize this house. I yearned to be the one she was touching. Decades have come and gone since I have felt her caress and I wanted more with each second we spent together.

So I made her stay.

My hands were within inches of her face. I could feel the warmth radiating from her beautiful skin. Almost instantly her eyes closed as I cradled her to the floor. Her soft flesh awoke a hunger in me-the kind of hunger a man feels for a woman. Her beauty was intoxicating and I came so close to kissing her enchanting lips, but I forced myself to pull back. I could not risk it; I must gain her trust first.

I held her close to me, savoring the feel of her body close to mine when without warning, troubling images slammed into my head. I could see what she saw and feel what she felt.

An overflowing river of sadness and anger crashed all around us and I understood-her world is dark. As I glimpsed into her past it made my connection with her even stronger. When I searched even deeper, I discovered that it is her own mother who is the burden of her torment. Intimidating and belittling her with words and actions, taking away the essence of the joyful girl she once was.

My rage became an entity of its own while I watched her dreadful memories play over and over.

I must help her.

I must protect her.

And I will, very soon.