Changed by Fire (Phoenix Rising #6) - Harper Wylde Page 0,98
nerves eating at me. “But I need to.”
“Sweetheart, we’ll listen if that’s what you need,” Hiro told me gently. “But you don’t have to relive it. That’s what this option is for.”
“I can’t explain it without, well, explaining it.” I struggled to find the words I needed to make them understand.
“Here.” Ciarán gave me a cold bottle of water, and I sent him a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Ciar.” He sent me a soft smile, but stayed far away from me, his hands down and low.
“Nix, I’m going to go check on our recruits,” he informed me.
“You can stay,” I whispered, my eyes on my hands.
He knelt beside Killian, the pair so similar yet so different like the dual sides of a coin. “Little sister, thank you for your trust in me, but I think this time it would be better if I step away. I’ll always offer an ear if you need it. I love you, little sister.” I tried to smile at him, but it was dim and faded swiftly.
“Thanks.” As Gaspard and Rini pushed to their feet to follow Ciarán from the room, I looked at them pleadingly. “Will you stay?” I requested softly. Rini hissed, her eyes wide, and Gaspard studied me silently. “It’s easier, sometimes, with groups. It’s a story. Not a memory.” That was how it had felt when I’d spoken to the social workers and cops. If I told just my mates, I’d be watching for their pain. Telling the story though… maybe that I could manage.
“Stop if you need to,” Gaspard replied gently. “We’ll step out at any point.” I nodded my agreement, and they settled back down.
I relaxed into the couch. “It’ll be easier, I think, if you don’t touch me for this part,” I addressed my mates carefully, my eyes flicking to them and then away. It wasn’t that I was afraid of their reactions really, I knew they wouldn’t love me any less, but it didn’t mean I didn’t love me any less.
It spurred something inside me, and I laughed humorlessly. “It starts as friends.” The word was bitter in my mouth. “Michael had beaten me too badly at one point. Teachers had seen it. There’d been an investigation, and I’d been placed with a foster family who lived a few towns over. They had this perfect little house with flowers out front. A husband, wife, and their teenage son. I was with them for six months before CPS pulled me out,” I recalled softly.
“It started after the first three weeks. Initially, when I moved in, I was kind of excited. Happy, even. I mean, I’d always wanted a big brother to protect me. That’s what he was at first.” I leaned forward, rubbing my damp palms across my knees. “It’d be easier to hate him if he’d just been evil from the beginning, but he hadn’t been. He made me laugh. We watched TV together. Played cards sometimes. He… he even helped me with my homework. I wasn’t that old really. I’d just turned thirteen. I hadn’t even started noticing boys, I was too busy dealing with Michael and just surviving day to day. But the beginning of my time with them?” I stared blankly at the wall, not really seeing it. “It was what I thought I wanted. We’d have family dinner together, all of them chatting and laughing. She always cooked. His parents were gone a lot—working, you know. He was a few years older, so they didn’t see anything wrong with him being in charge. I had my own room. It was so pretty. There was a little bed with a soft, turquoise blanket. It wasn’t odd, at first, for him to come sit with me in there and talk about his day. The first time he touched me, I thought it was an accident,” I intoned, unwilling to look at any of them.
“He was leaning across me, reaching for one of the pillows. His hand brushed my breast. He ignored it, and I thought he just hadn’t noticed. Then, a few days later, the same thing happened.” I took a shaky sip from my water bottle. “It sped up after that. He liked to pick the lock on the door when I showered, or hide behind the curtain before I went in to surprise me. He’d steal my clothes, the towels, and the mats to force me to walk out naked, and then he’d touch