and to you. My eyes were on the sky, my feet were on the warped hardwood floor.
“I once heard a story about how a boy of paint and a girl of ink could slay any monster together. The real monsters.” Your eyes looked glassy in the moonlight. “The ones you never tell me about.”
Together. I inhaled the night air. I leaned over to grab a long-sleeve shirt so that the bruises would be hidden. I was going to tell you everything, I didn’t want to force you to see everything.
“Don’t hide them, Ellie,” you whispered. “Don’t hide them from me anymore.”
I clutched the long sleeve in my fist. Hide. Hide. Hide. That’s all I wanted to do, but your voice was feather-soft and it tickled that part of me that wanted to be seen.
“Okay.”
I dropped the long-sleeve shirt to the ground, and while it didn’t make a sound, I felt like it crashed like smashing glass.
I pulled my leg over the windowsill and found purchase in the small holes of the lattice. I heard you climb your way back down the tree. I felt the wood between my fingers and felt every steady step on the way down. As I looked up, the distance between me and my window growing, I wondered how I never saw my window as an escape route before.
My feet touched the grass and it was cool and dewy. I closed my eyes, fingertips still clinging to the lattice as if letting go would break me.
Your hands went to my shoulders and I felt the warmth of you step closer. You leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Let go, Ellie. You can let go.”
And I did. Weaving your fingers through mine, we ran.
It was our special place in the woods. I knew that. It had lived on and grown without us, becoming more wild and beautiful as I was locked away and rotting. What I hadn’t expected were the candles. Battery-operated candles were everywhere, making our little childhood space look magical once again.
Did you know that I wouldn’t be able to see the magic without them? I looked at you, and you sheepishly looked back. “I wanted you to see it like I see it.”
Your hand was rough and callused, but you hadn’t let go yet. I pulled free so that I could step into our land of dragons and castles, our little world of victories and magic. I turned in a circle. The electric candles flickered like real flame and I smiled. “Electric candles?” I asked.
“What? You think I was going to risk burning down our childhood home with real flame all for the sake of a romantic setting?”
“So, is this supposed to be romantic?” I felt strange asking. It felt too intimate.
“It…” You looked around and shrugged as color flooded your cheeks. “It’s … for you. For us. I—I don’t want to say anything more about it because I think … you might run away from me. Again.” Your eyes shone in the darkness and flickering orange. “Like always.”
“I wish this was real,” I said, motioning around.
“It was. It was all real.” You stepped forward, careful to not trod on the plastic lights, and reached for my hands. My heart thudded in my chest and I hesitated looking up at you. You cupped my cheek.
“What we had here was real. You shut me out. You didn’t let me in.” You let go of my hands and I let your fingertips trail up my arms to rest on my shoulders lightly where the bruises bloomed in rotting colors. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you let me save you?” You were so very close. “Why couldn’t you let me be your knight in shining armor for once, just for once?”
I could feel the tears coming, feel the sob building like a volcano, and I didn’t want to cry.
“Because you aren’t my knight in shining armor. You’re my boy of painted dreams,” I whisper. “I was too afraid to ask you to paint me as someone new, someone different. I was too afraid to ask you to paint all of my pain away. I was too afraid to ask you to paint me unbroken.” And then I told you everything. It felt a little bit like loss, and a lot like freedom.
You looked at every bruise. You saw me and your eyes were sad. “Ellie, you might be hurting, but you were never broken.”
I wasn’t going to sob, going to bawl. Not there. Not