Haven's Knight

by Regan Ure

  "How do you feel about it?" I asked softly.

  This would impact him as well, and I wanted to know if he was okay with it.

  "I think it's a great idea," he answered, his eyes wide with excitement. "After everything that has happened you need a little light in your life and my family would be able to give it to you. My mom always wanted a girl, so she is going to spoil you rotten. Besides, I want to be able to keep you safe and I can’t do that if you’re not with me.”

  I wasn't interested in material things. What meant more to me than anything wasn't something you could put a price to. For a few minutes there was silence and he watched me expectantly.

  "I need to think about it," I told him. He looked a little disappointed but he tried to mask it with a weak smile.

  "You have to understand that almost everyone I've ever trusted before, including my own mother, who was supposed to love me unconditionally, betrayed that trust in the worst way possible." I paused for a moment to collect myself. It was hard to voice that.

  My mother hadn't cared when Grant had hit me, she hadn't even flinched when he'd broken my arm the first time. She'd been annoyed with me about it. I'd trusted my mom to keep me safe and she'd failed. Instead of stopping the abuse and kicking Grant out, she'd ignored what was going on, leaving me vulnerable to Grant's abuse.

  "But I trust you," I whispered. His hand tightened around mine. "And I trust Chris."

  They were the only ones I trusted at the moment. Maybe with time, I would be able to trust others.

  "When you didn't show up for the school the day after the attack, Chris began to freak out a little. I haven't been to school since the attack either, so he thought I might know something. He tracked a couple of my friends and threatened them with some choice words before they relented and gave him my number," he told me. I felt bad that Chris had been worried.

  "He has been calling a couple of times a day to get updates. He has been to the hospital a couple of times but they wouldn't let him in to see you and they wouldn't give him any details about you. The only reason I've been allowed in is because I was the one that found you, and when they asked who I was I told them I was your boyfriend."

  Boyfriend. I looked at him, a little shocked that he’d lied.

  "I would have told them I was the pope to get in to see you," he admitted seriously. My heart tightened at his admission.

  "What did you tell him?" I asked, not sure if I wanted everyone to know all the details of what had happened. I knew Chris well enough to know he was persistent.

  "Honestly, I wasn't sure if you wanted any more people to know what really happened. I didn't know how much he knew before, but I didn't want to take a chance at telling him something he didn’t know,” he explained with a worried look. He was right—I wanted to limit the number of people that would find out the true details of the events that had landed me in hospital. "I told him you'd been in an accident. I wanted to be able to give you the choice on whether you told him the truth or not, if he didn't already know the truth about what was happening to you. It wasn't my secret to tell."

  This boy sitting in front of me was so thoughtful that I felt my throat constrict. When my heart fluttered as I looked at him I reminded myself that he didn't care for me in that way, that he only cared for me as a friend. What he'd told Chris hadn't even been a partial truth, it had been a complete lie. Nothing that happened to me had been an accident.

  "Did he know what was happening?" he asked me with a tight jaw and his eyes reserved. I looked him, confused at his obvious attempt to keep his temper under control.

  I shook my head and he began to relax. The tightening in his jaw eased and his eyes softened.

  "I don't know what I would have done if he had known and he'd done nothing about it," he said. His reaction surprised me, and I had no doubt he would have hurt Chris if he hadn't been oblivious to what was happening to me.

  "He knew nothing," I assured him. I doubted that Chris would have done nothing if he'd found out, and that was why I'd tried so hard to keep my secret from him.

  I wanted to see Chris, but I was worried about what he would say when he discovered what I'd been hiding. It wasn't my fault, but I couldn't help feeling ashamed. It was hard having it out in the open for everyone to see.

  I wondered what my face looked like. I touched my fingers to my face—it still hurt. Suddenly, I had a desperate need to see my face. I'd seen my arms, they were covered in bruises, and my face probably looked the same. I tried to sit up and move off the bed, which was a little difficult with the drip in one hand and the cast on my other arm.

  "You can't get up, you need to take it easy," he reminded me sternly as he held my shoulders to try and keep my in the hospital bed. A need I couldn't control made me shrug out of his hold and I winced at the slight pain in my stomach.

  "I need to see my face," I told him, determined to make it to the small ensuite bathroom. Understanding dawned on his features.

  "I'll find a mirror, you stay put," he ordered while he helped me back into the bed and I slumped back.

  He wasn't gone for long before he reappeared with a small compact mirror and handed it to me.

  At my questioning glance he said, "I asked the nurses in reception if any of them had a mirror."

  I held the compact in my hand for a moment; I hesitated, trying build my courage. It wasn't going to look good, and I knew that. Knowing was one thing, but seeing it was completely different. I took a deep breath and opened the compact and looked at my reflection. Nothing could have prepared me for the image I saw.

  I gasped at my reflection, which was barely recognizable. Both of my eyes were circled in dark bruises and my one eye was red. Dark bruises covered nearly my entire face. I bit down on my lip to keep my emotions from escaping. Tears welled up in my eyes. I touched my cheek as a tear slid down. The skin under my fingertips felt tender. I felt a sob well up inside of me as another tear slid down my face.

  Years and years of abuse had led to this. Grant had tried to kill me with his bare hands and when he'd failed he'd gone to get a knife. The sob I'd tried to keep from welling up inside of me broke free and tears began to stream down my face.

  Without a word Damien stood up and pulled me gently into his arms as he took the compact from me and shoved it into his jeans. I cried and cried until there were no more tears. I felt numb inside. Damien eased me back gently and brushed the tears from my face.

  "You're beautiful," he reassured me, holding my face gently in his hands, careful not to hurt me. I didn't explain to him that I hadn't cried because of what I looked like.

  When I'd seen my reflection I'd realized how close I'd come to dying and it had hit me hard. No matter how hard I tried, the tears I'd been keeping at bay for years had overwhelmed me. I felt emotionally raw and tired.

  "I'd like to see Chris," I told Damien as he released my face. His eyes still watched my closely.

  “I’ll call him," he said softly. "Try and get some sleep, I'll wake you up when he gets here."

  "Thank you," I said as I closed my eyes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Haven

  I felt a gentle nudge.

  "Haven," I heard a voice whisper.

  I was sleeping so nicely and I didn’t want to wake up. Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to ignore the voice. A soft touch of a hand on my arm shook me gently.

  "Haven." The voice was more insistent this time.

  Finally, resigned to the fact that the voice wasn't going to go away, I opened my eyes. The familiar face of Damien smiled as he leaned over me.

  "I'm sorry to wake you up, but Chris is here," he informed me.

  He helped me sit up and I glanced behind him to see Chris looking at me, horrified. It reminded me how bad my injuries were. He masked his horror and gave me one of his signature wide grins even though it never reached his eyes.

  Damien stepped away and Chris took his place. I smiled weakly. I was happy to see him, but nervous about everything else. I wa
s finally going to tell him the truth.

  “Hi,” he greeted.

  “Hey,” I greeted back nervously.

  "You had me so worried," Chris whispered as he leaned forward to hug me, trying not to hurt me as he gave me a gentle squeeze. I hugged him back and my eyes connected with Damien watching us from the foot of the bed. My throat thickened with emotion.

  "I'll be outside if you need me," Damien informed me when he left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Chris pulled back and he scanned my face. He was trying his best to keep calm in front of me but I could see that he was upset.

  "What happened?" he whispered to me. I swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to tell him the truth.

  He sat down in the chair vacated by Damien and he waited patiently for me to answer his question.

  "My home life hasn't been very good." It was the understatement of the year.

  "Who did this to you?" He had gasped at the mention of the word home.

  "My stepfather," I answered hoarsely, trying to keep myself together.

  I saw the flash of anger in his eyes and his lips tightened together.

  "Why would he do this to you?" he asked. His eyes flickered over my injuries.

  "I don't know," I whispered as my lip trembled a little. I'd been asking myself that same question for the last seven years. I didn't know why.

  "Has this happened before?" he asked as he reached for my hand and took it into his own.

  I swallowed hard as I held his gaze and gave him a nod. He closed his eyes and watched him deal with my revelation. When he opened his eyes he was clearly upset as he took a deep breath.

  "I don't understand… where's your mom?" he asked, trying to figure how this had been allowed to happen to me.

  "She died this week," I said softly.

  "I'm so sorry," he said, trying to comfort me. Then the penny dropped.

  "Your mom allowed this to happen to you?" he asked.

  I felt a sharp pain in my chest at being reminded that my mom hadn't loved me enough to protect me from him, and that she'd been responsible for bringing him into our home.

  "I can't talk about it yet," I told him, shaking my head. I wasn't ready to tell him everything yet. I needed time to work through things before I could tell him everything he wanted to know.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  "There was nothing you could have done," I assured him softly as I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze from mine.

  He couldn't blame himself for what happened to me. The only person to blame for what had happened to me was the monster that had tried to take my life from me.

  "If I'd known what was happening to you I would have tried to help you," he assured me softly. His eyes were still fixed on the bruises on my face.

  "I know," I whispered.

  "Are you in any pain?" he asked, his eyes taking in the cast on my left arm.

  "Not really. They're giving me pain medication, so the pain isn't that bad," I explained while I touched my stomach. At least Chris didn't know I'd been stabbed as well.

  He looked visibly upset as it was, there was no need to upset him more. There weren't many people in the world that I cared about, but Chris was special to me, and I wanted to protect him from the all the ugly details of my attack.

  "I was so worried about you when you skipped school," he began to explain. “It was only when both you and Damien weren't there that I thought he might know something,” he said. I listened patiently to him. ”I didn't have any way to contact you to find out if you were okay so I went and got Damien's number from his friends. It wasn't easy getting his number, it was like trying to draw blood from stone. But I used my charm and they handed it over."

  I couldn't help the smile that touched my lips as I imagined Chris stomping over to Damien's group of friends, who were the most popular kids in the school, and demanding his number. That was something I loved about Chris—his outgoing, take-no-crap personality. It was also the reason why we were friends in the first place.

  "All he told me was that you'd been in an accident and that you were in the hospital," he explained. "I tried to come and visit you but they wouldn't let me in. They explained that only your immediate family and your boyfriend were allowed in to visit you."

  At the mention of the word boyfriend he wiggled his eyebrows at me. I rolled my eyes.

  "So is Damien your boyfriend?" he asked with a smile.

  "No," I assured him. "He lied to the nurses so they'd let him in to see me."

  "That may be the case, but I can see the way he looks at you," he revealed. “He cares about you."

  I knew that Damien cared about me.

  "How did Damien even know about the attack?" he asked after a moment.

  "I called him after it happened," I answered softly. I hated remembering what happened and I wished my memories from the attack would disappear. It would be easier. "He'd given me a phone in case I needed anything. He called the ambulance."

  I could see understanding in his features as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together.

  "He didn't give me any details about what had happened other than it being an accident."

  "He was trying to protect me. He didn't know how much you knew and he said it wasn't his secret to tell," I explained. I wanted Chris to understand.

  "I didn't like being kept in the dark but I get why he did it," he told me. "In the future, my number is also going to be programmed into your phone."

  It was so like Chris.

  "Is there a pen around here?" he asked, scanning the side table next to the hospital bed.

  "Why are you looking for a pen?" I asked, confused as to why he suddenly needed one. He was already opening the drawer of the side table as he continued to search.

  "Jackpot," he said when he closed the drawer, clutching a black pen.

  With a devious smile he got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. It was only when he uncapped the pen and began to write on the cast on my arm that I realized why he'd been looking for a pen.

  "As your best friend I get to write on your cast first," he said, absentmindedly scribbling a message.

  "There, I'm done," he said as he began to chuckle.

  I couldn't help but smile at his infectious laugh. It was only when I saw what he'd written that my laughter stopped and I glared at him playfully.

  He laughed even harder as he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

  His message on my cast read, I love Damien Knight and I want to have his babies.

  I continued to glare at him as he tried to control his laughter. That was the thing about him: he had a way of easing a heavy emotional atmosphere with a small action that had him doubled over in laughter, and before I knew it I was smiling.

  He was convinced that Damien's feelings for me went way beyond friendship, but I knew better. Damien had felt connected with me because he'd seen something in me that he recognized.

  When Chris managed to get his laughter under control again he sat down in the seat next to my bed. He still had a wide grin plastered to his face as his green eyes sparkled with mischief.

  "Thanks, now I'm going to have to walk around school with that message.” I tried to frown and act like I was mad. The message wasn't big and it would be difficult to read unless you got a closer look, so I doubted anyone would see it.

  "Ah, come on, it made you smile, didn't it?" he asked, still trying to get his laughter under control.

  I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. He was right—it had made me smile, and it had lifted me up from the heavy emotional rollercoaster I'd been on the last few days.

  "I'll forgive you this time," I teased him.

  The door opened and Damien stepped inside. He looked a little surprised to see us smiling.

  "Visiting hours are over," he informed Chris. "The nurses will be coming around soon to clear the visitors out."

  Chris stood up and leaned over to give me a hug.

  "Any
time you need to smile, just read the message," he suggested before he gave me a brief kiss on the cheek and then pulled away. "I'll be back again tomorrow.”

  He walked to the door and gave me one last smile.

  "See you tomorrow," I said and then he left, closing the door behind him leaving me alone with Damien.

  "He really does have a way with you, doesn't he?" said Damien softly, watching me closely. I was still smiling.

  "Yeah…I guess so," I replied, feeling a little shy under his watchful gaze.

  From the first time I'd met him, his bubbly and outgoing personality had steamrolled right into my heart, and I cared about him. I loved the way that he hadn't pushed me too much in the beginning. I loved the way that he noticed that I never brought lunch with me and had started to pack an additional one for me.

  It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me.

  "It's nice to see you smile," he said as he came to a stand beside me. He had his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans.

  "I haven't had a lot to smile about," I replied. My gaze dropped and I began to fidget with my hands. My smile began to wane as the memories of the attack began to filter back. For a while, I'd managed to forget, and the heaviness inside me had lightened.

  "We'll change that," he whispered, taking my hand into his. I looked up at him and I saw a tenderness there that I'd never seen before.

  I'd never been so affected by a boy before. When he was around I felt more aware of everything going on around me. I had no control over it. I shook my head to try and dislodge the thought. There was more important stuff to deal with than a crush on a boy. I'd nearly been murdered.

  A decision still had to be made on whether I'd go to live with the Knights or go into foster care. I felt like my life was spiraling out of control and I was struggling to hold on. I took a deep breath and felt Damien rub my hand with his fingers.

  The door opened. I couldn't help my hand tightening on Damien's when a doctor stepped into the room.