Sins of the Father (10 page)

“I promised Frank I’d watch out for you, and your father—”

“My
father
. My father, Sawyer.
He
did this to me. Not
you
. Not
Frank
.
Him.
You can’t keep blaming yourselves for things you can’t control.”

“Sylvie . . .”

“Sawyer . . . don’t. Please.”

She leaned into me and before I knew what was happening, pressed her lips to mine. I’d made out with a few girls from school before. This was nothing like that. A simple, chaste kiss that somehow meant so much more because Sylvie and I, we had a bond. Something we shared between only us and Frank. A connection. I spent my entire life feeling weak and helpless, but there, with that frail, frightened girl in my arms, for the first time I felt strong. I finally felt like I could fight back, protect, defend—not only her but myself—because she gave me a reason to.

*Present day*

Lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the sopping field. On the road, taillights shone like a pair of devilish eyes against the blackness. Ophelia’s feet and fists collided with my body, harder than expected, fueled by desperation. I took it. I took it all because I deserved it. I deserved to feel her wrath. And she deserved not to feel helpless for one goddamn second.

I took it until her right foot slammed into my shin and a frustrated, pained shriek split the night.

“Stop. Fi, stop it!”

I wrapped my arms around her, pinning her to my chest until her struggles gave way to sobs. She was so different from Sylvie. Strong, ferocious, even if she didn’t know it. Watching her break down in front of me, seeing her tears fall and knowing that I was the cause of them, it cracked the untouchable diamond in my chest.

“Please, Sparrow, stop. There’s nowhere to go. You’re only hurting yourself.”

“I hate you.” Her chest heaved against mine.

“I know. I know you do.”
I do, too.

I brushed the rain from her face, pretending she was allowing me to wipe away her tears, knowing that would never happen.

“Sawyer, please. Don’t do this. Please just let me go.
Please?
I just want to go home.”

If it was just me, I’d have put her in my car right then, driven her back to her dorm, and watched her walk away. But it wasn’t just me. I had Frank to consider. If she walked away now, we were both screwed and this all would have been for nothing. There was Sylvie to consider, too. Her justice. But I couldn’t think about her because I knew she would have hated everything about this.

“I’m sorry. Just a little bit longer.”

“Why?” The look of betrayal in her eyes hit me with the force of a freight train, punching a hole clean through my chest. “Frank I understand. He’s . . . Something’s broken in him. But you? Why
you
, Sawyer? Why are
you
doing this to me?”

“Because, Fi . . .” I had to pry my teeth apart to get the words out. “Because he . . .” I threw my arm out toward the stable just as a flash of lightning cut open the sky. “He was going to do this with or without me. Nothing I said made a difference. He was coming for you one way or another. Would it really be better if I wasn’t here?”

Rain dripped from her hair. It soaked into every fiber of her clothing and streamed down her face, making it easier to ignore the tears.

“I did this for one reason. To keep Frank from doing anything that will get him into any more trouble than he’s already in.”

“Like teaching my father a lesson by sending me back to him in pieces?” Her voice was so soft I barely heard her over the pounding rain.

Son of a bitch. Was that what he said to her?
No wonder she ran.

“I’m scared.” Her whispered confession was nearly devoured by the storm. “I’m scared, Sawyer.”

Fuck. Me.
I buried my face in her shoulder and took a deep breath to regain my composure. This girl was gutting me.
What was I supposed to do? Tell her it was going to be alright? Make her promises she wouldn’t be able to believe?
I had
nothing
to offer her. It had been a long damn time since I felt that helpless.

“Come on. Let’s get out of this storm.”

Defeat radiated from her slouched shoulders and lowered head as we turned back toward the stable. I’m sure she thought the arm I had around her shoulders was to keep her from running again, but I needed to touch her. She took a step forward, and when her weight shifted she cried out. Her leg gave and I caught her before she dropped to the soggy ground.

“Fi?”

“My ankle.” She leaned against my side and I knew it had to be bad. Worse than me.

Shit.
My job here was to protect this girl and she was hurt. Again.

“Okay. I got you.” Before she could argue, I swung her into my arms and headed across the field.

She didn’t fight me. Not at all. That worried me more than her ankle, but I kept my mouth shut. One problem at a time. Rain whipped at us and I did my best to shield her from it. Rather useless in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t until we were inside that I noticed how badly she was shivering.

“Stay here.” I carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the lid of the toilet, trusting her not to run again, knowing that even if she did I’d be able to catch her.

She must have known it, too, because when I returned a few minutes later with an armful of clothes she was right where I left her. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at me when I handed her a pair of my sweats and a long sleeved tee.

“Do you need help to—?”

“No.” Her voice was flat. She was shutting down on me.

“Alright.”

A bitter draft washed down the alleyway, sprouting goosebumps up and down my body as I swapped out my own rain soaked clothes for a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Not exactly the most comfortable clothes to sleep in, but it was all I had left.

I was just buttoning them when the bathroom door opened and Fi hobbled into sight. “Let me—”

“I’m fine.” Her teeth were grinding so hard I could hear them as she moved gingerly toward the stall.

Against my better judgement, I let her walk, but insisted on holding her arm. She only put up a token struggle before giving me some of her weight.
Dammit.
I could feel the ice of her skin
through
the shirt sleeve and she was
still
shaking. The last thing we needed was for her to get pneumonia or some shit.

Frank snored softly in the corner, oblivious to the howling winds and bone jarring thunder. I’d always envied his ability to find peace in sleep. I didn’t think a single minute of my life had passed where I’d been able to rest that well. Always anticipating. Always on alert.

Though somehow the Sparrow had managed to escape me . . . What was it about her?

Fi crawled onto the cot as I dug through a bag of supplies in search of the first aid kit I’d picked up earlier. It wasn’t much. Some Band-Aids, antiseptic wipes, gauze . . . but it had an ACE bandage and a snap-and-go ice pack.

“Let me see your ankle.” I crushed the pack in my fist and gave it a shake. She flinched when it made contact with her swollen joint. “Sorry. Can you move it? It’s not broken, is it?”

Frank was the closest thing we had to a medical professional and there was no reaching him for at least a few more hours. Besides, then I would have had to explain
how
she got hurt, and I had no intention of telling him a damn thing about what went down tonight.

“I told you I’m fine.” Fi turned her face from me, but didn’t refuse the icepack.

“And that’s a load of crap. If you can bend it, show me.” If she couldn’t . . . fuck, I didn’t know.

Her breath caught, but she was able to move her foot. I breathed a sigh of relief. Sprained then, most likely.

“Okay. Good.” I kept the icepack on as long as I could stand to, until her shaking grew worse and her eyes began to droop. She was losing a battle with exhaustion. “I’m gonna wrap it up. Then you can rest.”

She didn’t say anything, simply watched as I wound the stretchy bandage around and around her foot and ankle, careful not to make it too tight. Her face was blank when I finished.
She’s just tired.
That’s what I told myself. I’d worry more about her state of mind tomorrow, after she got some sleep.

I hadn’t even reached for the cuffs before she was shoving her hand at me. Air hissed between my teeth at the sight of the torn and tattered flesh circling her wrist. “Shit, Sparrow. What did you do to yourself?”

“I’m—”

Fine, yeah, I know
. “Shut up.”

I grabbed the antiseptic wipes and though she fought to remain impassive, I could see the tiny stress lines pulling at the corners of her eyes and mouth as I dabbed at the raw skin. Tiny tremors raced along her fingers when I blew on it to relieve some of the sting. The gauze went on next and I just looked at her, at this girl I swore to keep safe, bruised and battered. Just like the last girl I’d sworn to protect. And look how that turned out. My chest squeezed and I eyed the cuffs in disgust.

“I don’t want to use the restraints,” I confessed, and a flash of surprise widened her eyes. “Jesus, Fi.
I don’t want to hurt you
. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“Then don’t.”
She looked at me with a confusing combination of hope and fear. If it was confusing for
me,
how much more confusing must it be for
her
? I wasn’t playing fair. Wasn’t sticking to my role. I couldn’t be both the villain and the hero. Mind games, making her question herself . . . that was never part of the plan. I needed to remind myself who I was.
What
I was.

“Lay down.” She looked nervous and I honestly didn’t know if what I was thinking was better or worse than the damn cuffs, but I had to try.

She lay with her back to me as always and I slid in behind her. Normally, I would have faced the other way—given her at least the illusion of privacy—but tonight I laid with my chest against her back. I knew the instant she felt the difference. Her breathing turned into shallow pants and the shaking started all over again, though this time I doubted it was from the cold. Despite her capitulations and moments of trust, she was afraid of me.

Good. She should be.

I slid my arm over her waist, but when her entire body went rock solid, I froze. “It’s either this or the cuffs, Sparrow. It’s up to you. I’m just going to hold you while we sleep. That’s all. But it’s your choice. I can cuff your other wrist if you prefer.”

It felt as though an eternity passed while she struggled to make up her mind, to organize her fears and decide which was the greater of the two evils. It surprised me how relieved I felt when she made her choice. “I don’t want the cuffs.”

“Okay.” My arm inched farther along until it encircled her narrow waist. I could tell she was holding her breath. Waiting for . . . what? What did she expect me to do to her? “That’s it, Sparrow. That’s all. Go to sleep.”

Several long seconds ticked by before I felt her take a breath. Almost another hour before her body began to relax against mine. I was wide awake, holding perfectly still, terrified of moving and triggering whatever the hell it was that had her so frightened. She was trusting me and I wouldn’t screw that up. When her breathing turned deep and even, I finally allowed my eyes to close.

Chapter 10

~Ophelia~

I lay on that hard cot, listening to the screaming wind and booming thunder. None of it compared to the storm raging inside of me. Sawyer’s arm felt hard and heavy wrapped around my waist as I fought the bone-deep fatigue threatening to pull me under. His body heat warmed me as I struggled to remain alert, waiting for him to try something.

He didn’t. He kept his word, not moving an inch.
My hero.
The bitter thought infected my mind. And I cursed myself for believing it just the tiniest bit. Exhaustion gripped me in a steel fist and I surrendered. There was nothing left for me to do but trust his word and pray that he could keep it.

It was one of those disgustingly humid nights, the kind where your hair starts to look like you stuck a fork in a socket and even the grass seems to perspire. Tiny dew droplets soaked into my shirt. It was so hot you could smell it. The air was heavy with sweat, and sticky as syrup. It was nearly impossible to breathe.

Or maybe that was because of the forearm planted across my chest?

“Stop.” I gasped and tried to squirm free. A twig stabbed my shoulder, tearing the lacy material of my favorite shirt. “Don’t.
Get off
.”

Hands. More hands. So many hands. They captured my wrists and tugged them above my head, pinning them to the ground.

“Please, stop!” My voice was shrill with panic. “No! Don’t!”

There were other voices, too. They surrounded me. Words, laughter, sounds I’d never be able to forget. They seeped inside my ears and lodged themselves in my brain.

The sound of material ripping hit me like a shotgun blast. The damp night air touched my skin in places it shouldn’t. Places
nothing
should touch.
No one
. But they did. They
did
.

Oh God, they did.

My stomach heaved and I tasted vomit at the back of my throat. Every rock and stick and piece of bark on the ground dug into my back as I was crushed beneath his weight. I could feel every last ridge and whirl of his fingerprints imprinting on my hips, my thighs.

My legs were useless, pinned beneath his lower body. I couldn’t stop him when he wedged a knee between them and pried them apart. I couldn’t stop him when he shoved the hem of my shirt up to bare my breasts and cover my face. Red lace distorted my vision and blocked my airway, and I couldn’t stop him.

I couldn’t stop him . . .

Pain splintered my mind and I screamed and screamed and screamed. But no one heard me.

“Ophelia!”

Someone was coming. Someone heard me. But it was too late. They were too—

“Fi, wake up.
Ophelia!”

The pain. Oh God, the pain. It was too—

My entire body jolted and my eyes snapped open.

I could see?
I could see
. And I could
breathe
. I drew in deep lungful’s of oxygen, nearly choking on the abundance. Slowly my pulse eased from a sprint to a steady jog. My brain began to clear. It was dark, but I could tell I wasn’t lying on the ground. And I was fully clothed, warm and cozy. But I wasn’t alone.

“Fi?”

A shadowy figure loomed over me, propped up on one elbow. My heart tripped over itself and I gasped.

“Sparrow?”

“S-Sawyer?” My brain was beginning to catch up.

Nightmare. Another damn nightmare. The
same
damn nightmare I’d had for years. I thought when I went away to college they’d stop, and for a while they did. Not anymore.

“I’m here.” A feather light touch caressed the back of my hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” My throat ached, but that could have been from the cold air. “Just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you.”

His touch returned and when I didn’t pull away, he took my hand, his thumb swiping idly over my clammy skin.

“Who hurt you, Sparrow?” His voice was soft, but the raging storm had weakened to a rain shower pinging off the tin roof.

“I . . .” How could he even ask me that? “No one.” I tugged my hand away. “No one hurt me. Besides
you
.”

My words hit their mark and he flinched. I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would, however. Instead it was guilt that crept up on me. Planting my hands on the cot, I pushed myself up to sitting. I needed space. Cool air brushed over my shoulders as the blanket fell away. Sawyer moved out of my way, shifting around until we found ourselves seated face-to-face in the dark.

He gave me a minute—room to breathe—but he refused to be dissuaded. “Somebody hurt you.
Before
we came along. Something happened to you. What was it?
Who
was it?”

“I can’t. I . . . can’t.”
Don’t say a word.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t. I can’t.”
Negative publicity. Don’t create a scandal.
“If people knew . . .”
Whore. Liar. Slut.
“What would they say?”

“I know what I’d say.” Sawyer waited until I risked a peek at him before continuing. Something dark and altogether terrifying flashed in his eyes. “I’d say give me his damn name because I’d like nothing more than to teach him some fucking manners. Make him sorry he ever laid eyes on you.”

“No. You wouldn’t. Not if you knew the whole story.” Tears clogged my throat.
It was my fault. All my fault. If they knew . . .

“Why don’t you try me?” Patience was a steady presence, pulsing around him.

Don’t talk about it. Don’t make a scene. Forget it ever happened.

“Fi, I’m guilty of kidnapping, extortion, holding you against your will, and probably a hundred other things . . . I’m hardly in a place to judge.”

That was . . . true
. And the words were right there, on the tip of my tongue, begging to break free as they had for the past three years. This was my one chance to let them out.

“Christ, Sparrow.” Sawyer’s whispered words washed over me. He tipped his head sideways as his lips tugged downward. “It’s like I’m watching you trapped in this cage, beating your wings against the bars, desperate for someone to open them and set you free. But what you don’t realize is that the only person who can do that . . . is
you
.”

My heart turned over painfully in my chest. He was right. I
was
trapped. Trapped in the past. Trapped by my family. Trapped by my secrets. I didn’t want to be trapped anymore. But opening that cage meant more than letting me out. It meant letting everything else
in
. Letting
him
in.

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Did you know that the sparrow is one of the most aggressive birds in the world? They may be small, but they overtake the nests of other birds all the time. Sparrows are fighters. Don’t stop fighting, Fi.”

Don’t stop fighting.
Don’t stop fighting what? My parents? My upbringing? My sordid history?
Him?
I fought every day. I was so damn tired of fighting. Maybe . . . just this once . . . I didn’t have to fight.

“I . . . I w-was sixteen.” The words stuck in my throat, years of conditioning warring to keep them locked away.

In the stripe of moonlight coming through the planks on the wall, I saw Sawyer’s face harden and the fingers resting on his knee strain toward me. “What happened?”

“I went to this party with my friends. A high school party. This guy’s parents were out of town for the weekend and he . . .”
Not the point
. “Some of the guys from the football team were there. The kind of guys every girl in school swooned over. One of them started talking to me and I thought . . . I thought he liked me. I didn’t . . .”
So naïve.
“He asked me to go for a walk with him. There was this really pretty pond at the back of the property. We went out there and talked. He stole a bottle of something from the liquor cabinet and he kept refilling my cup.”
God, I was such a fool.

Choking down the fear and the shame and the memories was harder than I could have imagined.

“I wasn’t drunk, I swear. I didn’t do anything—”

“I believe you.” Sawyer’s words took my breath away. I blinked at him in awe.

He believed me?
No one believed me. Not even my own parents. They said no one would believe I was sober. That I hadn’t come on to those boys.

“What happened next?” His hand slid a little closer, close enough that the tips of his fingers brushed the back of my hand. Surprisingly the contact didn’t make me squeamish. It almost felt . . . comforting.

“We were sitting on the ground talking when . . . when his friends showed up.” They materialized from the shadows like a pack of hungry wolves. I was surrounded before I even knew they were there.

“His
friends?
” Sawyer’s hand balled into a tight fist, leaving mine feeling cold. “How many?”

I tried to focus on the facts to keep the terror of what came next at bay. “There were six of them in total.”

Twelve eyes, twelve hands, six sets of lips, six . . .
I shied away from that thought.

“
Jesus Christ
.” Sawyer looked like he was about to puke. Or put a hole through the wall. Or both. “Fi, did . . .? Did they . . .?”

It lasted so long.
So long
.
Days. Weeks. Years
. I couldn’t understand why the sun never came up. I fought them. Hard. But after a while . . . I just lay there. And cried.

My throat closed. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t do this. The shaking in my hands traveled through my entire body. I couldn’t live through that awful night again. My parents were right. I needed to forget it. I needed it to go away. To pretend it never happened.

“It’s okay.” A warm hand encompassed mine and squeezed. “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anymore.”

But I
had
to tell someone. I had to get it out. I’d been keeping it locked inside of me for years. Letting it corrode me from the inside out.

The comforter bunched between us as Sawyer scooted closer. He was the last person on Earth I should have been drawing strength from, but that was where I found it.

“They tied my hands with a belt.” I could still
feel
the cold leather around my wrists. It made my skin crawl. “Took turns pinning me to the ground. I couldn’t get up. I couldn’t—”

“Breathe, Sparrow. Deep breaths.” Warmth seeped into my face and I realized Sawyer was cupping my cheek, watching me carefully. I sucked air greedily. “Good girl. There you go.”

“They . . . they t-touched me. And kissed me. They . . . they . . .” I lived with the memory every single day, but letting it out, saying the word, it was so damn hard. “They r-raped me. And they laughed. They made jokes and laughed at me the whole time it was happening.”

I could still hear them. Their voices, their laughter haunted me night after night. Shallow breaths sawed in and out of my lungs, but it wasn’t enough. The room swam in and out of focus. I thought I was past the panic attacks, but apparently not.