Not My Hero

Moving my attention to her head, my stomach rolls when I see half of her hair has been cut haphazardly, and there are lots of cuts. I inspect them, but I can’t see properly with the blood. I reach for the facecloth and rinse it under the water until it’s lukewarm.

“I’m sorry if it hurts,” I murmur before I begin to wipe the worst of the blood away.

Brie lifts a trembling hand to the right side of her head and points above her bloody ear. “This side hurts most.” She sounds petrified, her voice hoarse and quivering from the trauma she must’ve suffered.

I should be used to seeing this kind of violence, but it still rocks me to my core.

I step closer and move the jagged strands of hair out of the way. After carefully cleaning the cut, I reassure her, “It doesn’t look like you need stitches.”

All the beatings my father gave me have made me an expert when it comes to taking care of wounds.

I pause for a moment to breathe because it’s so damn hard to look at what’s been done to her.

It’s sadistic and gut-wrenching.

The same thing has been done to me.

Memories of the abuse I suffered at the hands of my father for so many years flash through me. Bile pushes up my throat, but I swallow it down.

Brie needs you.

The thoughts help to steel me against the onslaught of empathy I feel for Brie. There’s an overwhelming connection to her, knowing how she must feel right now.

I continue to clean the cuts, then move down to her cheek and neck. When I wipe the blood from her arms and hands, I’m relieved when I don’t find more wounds.

For the first time in my life, I allow myself to remember what I felt right after a beating, so I’ll know how to handle Brie.

Once I’ve done the best I can, I tilt my head and lean down so I can catch her eyes, but she quickly lowers her gaze to the floor. Slowly, I lift my hand, and placing a finger beneath her chin, I gently nudge her face up until her eyes dart to mine.

“You’re safe here,” I assure her again. She probably doesn’t believe me, and I know I’ll have to repeat it a lot before it will sink in.

Her gaze flits away from mine, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you thirsty? I can make coffee or tea. Whatever you prefer.”

Brie shakes her head but then croaks, “Water.” She swallows hard and quickly adds, “Please.”

When I walk out of the bathroom, Brie darts forward and sticks close to me. An overpowering urge to hold her fills my chest, and I clench my hands into fists, so I don’t reach for her because I seriously doubt she wants to be touched right now.

I take a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with cold water from the fridge. When Brie takes it from me, I notice that she’s still trembling.

My gaze flits over her, and again I take in how badly she’s been hurt. There are swollen red marks on both her arms.

My arms looked like that from trying to block the punches from my father.

The horrifying sight delivers a blow to my gut, almost knocking me off balance.

I wait until she takes a couple of sips before I say, “You’re going to be okay.” I want her to know it will get better.

I’ll make sure of it.

Brie chokes on the water, and before I can reach for the glass, it drops from her hands and shatters at our feet.

She covers her mouth with both her hands, and through the fit of coughs, her eyes fly to my face. There’s so much terror in her gaze, and she begins to back away from me as if I’ll hurt her.

“It’s nothing,” the words rush from me. “It’s okay. Don’t panic.” She stills for a moment but then moves her hands up to cover her face as her shoulders begin to jerk.

I can’t just stand and watch, and stepping over the mess, I reach for Brie and pull her against my chest. I lower my head and begin to whisper, “I know how you feel. I know it hurts.”

She moves her hands away from her face and turns her head, resting her cheek against me as a sob escapes her.

She needs to know she’s not alone.

“I’ve been through the same thing. You can trust me.”Chapter 8BRIEMy nerves feel stretched thin, and anguish keeps hitting me in waves. My emotions keep fluctuating between calming down and panicking.

The moment Colton wraps his arms around me, the dam wall breaks, and I lose control over the tears. I’m flooded with something I haven’t felt before – warmth and safety. It makes me feel like I’m a human being and not… nothing.