Jace
* * *
We spent a couple more hours lying on the couch watching movies before Calla fell asleep in my arms. I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, but I get the feeling that she doesn’t sleep nearly enough. Or when she does, she isn’t resting properly.
After putting her in her bed, I watched Calla sleep for a few minutes before heading back to the couch. It’s cute that she and Cali share the single room, but after sweating my ass off since relaxing, I understand. It’s ten times cooler in there than out here.
“Jace!” Cali calls my name from the doorway to their room. Looking over, I see her eyes are wide. “She won’t wake up.”
On my feet quickly, I rush over. “What do you mean?” But she doesn’t have to answer. I can see Calla lost in the throes of a nightmare.
“She has them almost every night. Usually, I can wake her, but she’s locked in there tonight, and I don’t know what to do.” Cali plops down on her bed, grabbing a pillow tight to her chest.
Crawling in the cramped bed with Calla, my feet hang off the edge as I wrap myself around her. “Sshh, Calla, it’s Jace. I’m here. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you no more.” I can feel the pounding of her heart against my chest. Her breathing is uneven and choppy, and her body is sprung so tight, I think she might actually snap.
“Come on, Calla, come back to me, sweetness.” Plunging my hand through her thick hair, I tilt her head back and kiss along her jaw, whispering words of comfort into her ear. When she stops struggling against me, I think I’ve finally reached her.
“I’m sorry, Mamma.” Her tortured voice cracks, and I know no matter how many times I soothe her in her nightmares, she’s still going to remain haunted.
Calla
* * *
“Mamma, no. Please, no,” I cry against the closet door. For three days, I’ve been locked in here again. Instead of celebrating my sixteenth birthday, I’m tossed in a dingy closet with no light. Sitting in the back corner, I try to stay quiet. Try to remain hopeful that one day she won’t hate me.
But she will.
She will always hate me, and I don’t think I’ll ever find out why.
A storm rages outside. I can hear the rain pelting against the thin roof of our tiny trailer as the wind howls. Thunder cracks, the sound magnified in the enclosed space I’m trapped in. If I shut my eyes, I can envision a tree splitting in two as lightning strikes. I can feel the electrical current of such power rushing through my veins, and I beg and plead for it to hit our home.
I want to feel it.
I want my mother to feel the anger of the storm.
She needs to understand how I feel every second of every single day.
“I’m sorry, Mamma.” I whimper again, knowing it will never make a difference.
Warmth suddenly envelopes me, and I wonder if this is what death finally feels like. Did my wish come true?
Chapter 4
Jace
I can feel Calla slowly shifting in my embrace, and I know the exact moment she realizes I’m sharing her bed. Her body freezes, and she whimpers. “Oh, crap.”
Keeping my eyes closed and my hold on her steady, I murmur, “Cali couldn’t wake you up. You calmed down when I laid with you.” I don’t want her to run, but I don’t want her thinking I’m going to make a big deal out of something either.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“You said that in your sleep a lot. To your mother.” I look down at her then, and she’s trying to shrink away from me. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”
Letting Calla and the conversation go is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. After hearing her close the bathroom door, I rise from the bed, heading to the living room. I stop short when I see Cali in the kitchen with two men.
Blowing out a breath, Cali signals to them. “Jace, this is Silas and Roman. Boys, this is Jace, Calla’s guy.”
Slipping my shirt on, I grab my socks and shoes. “Nice to meet you.” I nod at them. They’re intense, likely government guys. I keep the observation to myself.
“She alright?” Roman asks, nodding to the bathroom door.
I ponder the question a moment. Staring at the piece of wood separating us. “No,” I answer bluntly; Cali’s jaw drops. “How much sway have you got?” I ask them instead.
“Enough.” Silas’s gaze narrows on me.
“Callalily Davies, Wisconsin, kidnapping abuse case. See what you can find out for me.” They share a look before nodding. If they’re half as good as I suspect from three minutes in their company, I get the feeling I’ll know by tomorrow.
“Unbelievable,” Cali hisses, and I get the feeling I’ve stepped in it with her.
Before anyone can respond, Calla exits the bathroom, her face pale and hair wet. Having just gotten out of the shower, she’s only wearing a tank top, and it’s then I notice the scars on her arms. She's holding the towel to her chest, and I’m willing to bet there are more.
I follow her into the bedroom as Cali and her men begin whispering to each other. Pushing the door open, I catch Calla off guard. No towel to block her, no long-sleeved shirt to cover her up. I see the consequences of her life, and I have to wonder how in the hell she’s still here. How she’s allowing Cali, me, anyone to be a part of her life.
“There’s more, isn’t there.” It’s not a question. I see the shame written in every line of her body. There is so much more than I will ever be able to understand. Taking her wrist, I lift her limb to better inspect the wounds and see that some are burn marks. “Cigarettes?”
“Yes.” The word is barely a sound.
“How was this woman never caught?” It boggles my mind. Calla should have been taken away.
“We moved a lot. And she always told me”—her rough swallow is audible—“that Daddy never wanted me, that he’d do worse to me than she ever did.” I can tell she believed it too and maybe even still wonders if it’s true.
“Why’d you come here then?”
Calla stares down for so long at where I’m still holding onto her that I don’t think she’s going to answer me. “We led vastly different lives, Jace. You had loving parents, security, a home. I had a vague memory of a man who used to read me bedtime stories and a sister who held my hand going to the park. The good things I can remember about my early life, they were ripped away from me in a single night and beaten out of me for over a decade. I lived in fear. I was tortured, abused, hated.
“The day my mother ran me over wasn’t the first time she tried and failed to kill me; it was the third. Three times I survived something so horrific that I needed to believe whatever life I had before, it had to be better, but it wasn't that easy.” This woman's startling brown eyes meet mine, and in them, I see strength. “I took so long to come here after Derek found me because I was afraid that my mother was going to be right. It took Derek months to convince me that Petal and Dad weren’t bad people, that I was free to have my family back. I wanted my family back, Jace.” I drag her into my arms, her skin clammy as she shivers. I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt.