My heart lurches in my chest.
No. She wouldn’t have.
My gaze sweeps the room, and I spot Shadow curled up asleep on the floor. He’s barely left her side since I brought her here, where—
“Motherfucker,” I hiss as a sharp pain radiates through my big toe. I catch myself on the side of the bastard couch and breathe through the pain.
Where the fuck are my shoes?
I don’t remember taking them off, and a growl rumbles in my throat at the sheer annoyance of stubbing my goddamn toe.
Shadow’s face appears before mine, clearly woken by my outburst. I rest my forehead against his, letting his presence calm me down.
“Tell me she didn’t run,” I whisper.
My chest aches, the pain leaking through the cracks that have already formed around my heart.I don’t know why she affects me so much or why I can see her dark blue eyes so clearly when mine are shut. Regardless of how long I’ve known her, I shouldn’t feel like this.
Shadow licks my face before turning away. I straighten my back from the hunched position I landed in, using my arms to push off the side of the couch, glaring at it the whole time. The rational,soberpart of me knows I’m being ridiculous, but the well-past-intoxicated me wants to burn it so I never have to look at it again.
Shadow stands a few steps away, staring off at something. I follow his line of sight, but there’s nothing there. He looks at me again, then focuses back on the empty space with only the large windows and closed balcony door separating us from the cold night.
My gaze lingers on the sliding door, and that sensation of being pulled towards something,someone,reignites inside me. I glance at Shadow again and start to move towards the door. My steps are slow and measured, belying the pounding of my heart and the whiskey flowing through my veins. I stop in front of the glass door but make no move to open it while I strain my eyes through the darkness, lit dimly by the lights of the surrounding city.
There.
A small figure is curled up on one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped around their body. Grace’s head is titled back to the midnight sky. I can’t tell if her eyes are open, but I imagine they are.
It’s not a full moon tonight, but as the clouds shift, allowing it to shine brighter, my focus is torn. It’s been so long since I allowed myself to sit under the glow, letting my worries cower under her light.
There was a time, in the cold and dark when my only guardian was the moon in the sky. Without her, I’m sure the shadows would have consumed me long ago.
Grace tilts her head towards the opening in the clouds, and the shift allows the glow to illuminate part of her face. I suck in a breath at the raw emotion in her expression. She looks so young andlost.
This is what I wanted. To see underneath. Except now, I feel like an intruder—someone not worthy of something so significant, but I can’t make myself leave.
I raise my palm to the cool glass, but even though every fibre of my being wants to open this door and pull her into my arms, I don’t.
I can’t.
She opened up to me, and I took advantage. I took what I wanted, then left her there because I couldn’t deal with my own messed-up head. But as the moon shines down on her, revealing her bare truths, I consider that maybe now the night sky isn’t the only place I can find light in the darkness.
Twenty-five years ago…
My little legs struggle to keep up with Mama’s fast walk, and I squeeze her hand tighter, so she doesn’t let go and leave me behind. I don’t know where we’re going, but it must be important to be in such a hurry.
We stop in front of a large building, and Mama pulls me up the steps. She presses a button on the wall, but when nothing happens, she presses it again and again.
“Come on, please,” she talks to herself. Her hand is wet and shaky in mine, making it hard to hold on tight.
There’s a buzzing sound before the door swings open, and a large man stands in the entry. He wears jeans with a hole in the knee and a white sleeveless top with dirty marks. His belly hangs over the jeans, and a bad smell makes me screw my nose up.
Sometimes Mama has strange men in our apartment, but she always locks me in my room until they leave. I don’t know what they do, but sometimes Mama makes sounds like she’s hurting, and I wish I were bigger so I could open the door and stop the bad men from hurting her.
She’s always different after they leave, but sometimes, she keeps me in my room for too long until I’m so hungry my tummy hurts and my pants become uncomfortable.
The man in the doorway scratches the dirty hair on his chin as he looks at Mama up and down. I frown at the man, not liking how he looks at her. She mustn’t like it either because her hand shakes harder.
My back straightens as high as it can, and I step closer to Mama.