Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,45
For once, the rich brown of his eyes doesn’t look so black and dangerous.
I close mine, and when I open them, I use the patient look on his face to fuel my courage. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a fuckin’ great idea.” He must feel me tense because he continues, “But not one you’re ready for. I get that. I can give you all the time in the world if it’s what you need to work out what those sick bastards did to you. What I can’t give you is time to work out of your mind what you think of yourself. I won’t take that shit, and I won’t let you do it either. That’s not somethin’ you should fight through alone. If I have to tell you every fuckin’ day you’re beautiful, I’ll do it until you got it.”
I shift in his lap. “You shouldn’t have to do that. I-I should just be normal.”
“You’ve been livin’ through hell, so this probably isn’t even on your radar, but all women have been trained to think that beauty matters most. Girls who’ve lived a fairy-tale life still wake up in the morning and look in the mirror only to find something they’re unhappy with. They get plastic surgery and injections to look youthful for as long as possible because somewhere along the way, growing old turned into a bad thing. Took me a long time to figure it out, but growing old is a privilege. Especially when you got someone to do it with.”
At that, I watch his eyes close and his jaw clench, almost as if in pain. Is he thinking of his own family? His mom, sister, and dad, all of them—gone. Is he feeling how alone he is? Or does he dread the indefinite future with me until I can get on my own feet again? Maybe talking about growing old only reminded him that I’m stuck bouncing between him and Elias until I can figure my life out.
The warmth from earlier has disappeared with nothing left but a chill in my bones.
“Sorry,” he mutters gruffly. His voice pulls me from my thoughts. With slow precision, he reaches up and carefully brushes the back of two knuckles along my cheekbone. “Got lost there for a minute. You hungry? We should have breakfast.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m starving.” I take the change in conversation as the perfect opportunity to scramble away. “I’m going to get changed. I brought with a bag.” I grab my things and start for the hall.
“Eggs and bacon okay?” His voice calls after me.
“Yeah, sure! That sounds good.” I don’t know why my hand shakes when I reach the handle to his bedroom, but it does. It’s not like there’s anything—or anyone—to find. I chalk it up to all that’s happened this morning and slowly push open the door, only bothering to close it halfway behind me. I deposit my small bag on the bed and begin digging around for something to wear. The gray sweatpants and a soft shirt are nice for sleeping, but they aren’t appropriate for during the day. Not that I go anywhere other than three places. Still, the luxury of changing my clothes is still so new to me.
For years, I wandered around naked, only given clothes when we were set out on a street corner or taken to the motel. Indoors, though, we were stripped of all basic comforts such as clothing and forced to walk around nude or in dirty old tees. I shudder at the haunting memory.
Clothing isn’t something I take for granted.
Someday, I’d like to learn about styling my outfits. I haven’t ventured into wearing skirts or dresses yet. They make me feel too…exposed. And I don’t miss the grins from Alex and Elias if I wear something that doesn’t match, like adding a funny hat with my jeans and top. I learned quickly that accessories aren’t necessary for a girl like me.
I find a pair of jeans and a soft red tee shirt in the bag and lay them on the bed. The pants are one of the first pairs Elias got for me. The first or second day I was there, he said I needed some clothes of my own and made a phone call. A few hours later, a woman showed up at his house with a shopping bag from Target. Since then, several more shopping bags of clothes have shown up at his place, but I have no idea where they’re