Fragile

Chapter 23

While I had always hoped my secret would never be revealed, I knew deep down that secrets never truly stayed buried. Not for long anyways. I had just hoped that by the time my secret was revealed, I would've been long gone. What I never expected was I would be the one to reveal my secret all on my own. All because of a stupid phone call. 

"Fay?" Noah's voice was gentle, but I didn't want to be awake. I wanted to hide from my fate just awhile longer. I felt his rough palm stroke my cheek. His touch was always so warm. "I know you're awake." 

I was too stubborn to admit I was caught right away. My chest still ached from hyperventilating and my eyes felt swollen shut from crying so hard. My head was pounding, and my muscles ached like I was hit with a bus. My mouth was dry and I suddenly craved water. A lot of it. 

When I finally forced my eyes open, Noah was already holding a glass of water in front of my face, as if he read my mind. He pulled me up and steadied the glass as I downed it, trying not to immediately throw it back up. My stomach was doing flips still, and very angry that I had decided to down a whole glass of water. 

"Fay, slow down," Noah reprimanded softly. He pulled the glass back to force me to drink slower. I refused to meet his gaze, humiliated at how inept I was. Why did I jeopardize the mission to call him? Why did I put myself in a situation like this? 

It took me a moment to realize I was in my dorm, laying on my bed. My head still ached, and sudden motion made me dizzy. It wasn't until Noah gently lifted my chin with his index finger that I was able to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with an intense emotion I couldn't quite recognize. Almost as if he was in pain. 

I flinched when he held up the photos and letter from my mother. "How long has this been going on?" 

I didn't want to answer. How could I explain to him that I spent eight years of my life locked in a basement because of my mentally ill mother? How could I explain why she was here looking for me, when I didn't even know the answer? How could I explain that most of my knowledge of the outside world came from dramas and a hospital?

Oh god. She was going after Kiera too. "Kiera-" 

Noah cut me off as if he already knew what I was about to panic about. "She's safe, don't worry. I haven't told her anything yet." 

The 'yet' hung in the air. I owed an explanation. I knew I did, but I didn't have one. Even I struggled to make sense of everything. The life in the basement seemed so far away from the time I spent out, almost like it was a horrible dream. The thought of going back made my throat feel tight, as if I could smell the wet, moldy air and taste the rusted metal.

"Fay," Noah cut into my inner monologue once more, raising his eyebrow. 

I just shook my head, unsure of what to say. "I don't know." 

"Start from the beginning then," he said. "This is serious. You could've jeopardized the mission-" 

"I know-" 

"No, you don't," he snapped. "What were you going to do if she took you again?" 

I locked eyes with him. "Again?" He knew? 

He sighed and gestured to the other letters he grabbed from under my mattress. "How do you expect me to protect you if you don't tell me anything?" 

I let my eyes fall downcast, my vision blurry from fresh tears. "Y-you said you wouldn't protect me anyway." 

"That's not what I meant-" he cut himself off. He placed his hand on my knee and gently stroked with his thumb as he contemplated his next words. "It's not that I don't want to protect you. But I can't be there all the time. I physically can't, especially if I don't know what's going on, you understand?" 

I let out a shaky exhale, reaching for his hand. He took it immediately, his large hand practically swallowing mine in warmth. He was so gentle; it was something I wasn't used to from Noah. Yet at the same time it felt familiar and warm. 

"She's my mother," I confessed quietly. 

When I finally spilled my secret, I had always expected it would be painful. I always thought I would have to force the words out. But once the first sentence left my tongue, everything seemed to flow out like an opened floodgate. The dam of secrets had been broken. Noah never cut me off, never got angry. The only indication he was still engaged was the occasional squeezing of my hand, as if somehow that action had the power to give me strength to speak. Maybe it did. The words vomited faster than I could speak, unloading all the tightness and weight that I didn't even realize was there. 

By the time I was done speaking, I was almost afraid of the silence that would follow my confession. I didn't want to stop speaking at first. If I stopped talking, everything would be real. I would have had to brace myself for his reaction. But as I began to run out of words to say, and the rambling died on my tongue, Noah pressed the palm of his hand to my cheek gently. He was stroking away the tears just like he always did. Nothing had changed. 

I let out a small whimper of relief when he pulled me into his embrace, liquefying in his touch. "I can't go back," I found myself whispering. 

"You won't," he promised. "She won't take you. Not while I'm here." 

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that Noah could protect me more than anything. But if there was anything I learned from attending university, it was that the only person who could truly keep you safe was yourself. 

Noah told me I was stronger than I looked, I wasn't fragile. I hoped I would be able to see that as well, so I could not only protect myself, but the people I loved. 

I didn't want to feel like Kiera did when her sister was taken. I didn't want to be helpless anymore. I didn't want to be a burden everyone had to look after because she couldn't handle anything on her own. 

At this moment I could safely admit that I was terrified of my mother. I was terrified of things going back to the way they were, terrified that the colorful, dangerous and crazy world would return to shadows on a wall. I was terrified of losing everything once more, of watching the people I had grown close to get hurt. 

My mother was right. I couldn't be a fragile girl in this world. But she never had faith that I could grow more stable, more durable. She never expected her daughter would ever have the potential to be strong. I didn't necessarily know what being strong entailed quite then, but I knew I was going to find that strength before I lost everything I worked so hard to gain. 

Never again.