Rhea Thurman has always been goal-driven despite the tragedies of her past. Her obsession with criminal law leads her to the most prestigious internship in the city, working under up-and-coming lawyer, Davina Jenkins.
But Rhea never prepared to meet...
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I wake in the early hours of the morning from a nightmare. My eyes snap open, scanning the darkened area for answers.
I'm currently lying on a mattress in Sofía's room. I try to forget that Brax is only sleeping one door away, likely sleeping soundlessly too.
Lucky bastard.
I pull the duvet up to under my chin, clutching a hand to my chest as I feel the beat of my heart. My eyes begin to adjust to the dark. I focus on the outline of the ceiling fan, the edges of a bookshelf. I try everything I can before I give in.
Reaching for my phone, I switch on the torchlight. I stand quietly from the mattress, padding over to the doorway. Turning back to Sof, I notice her sleeping form as she turns over, dark hair covering her features.
The hall light has been left on. I squint against its brightness, allowing my feet to carry me into the kitchen.
I gasp quietly, clutching my neck when I notice a figure standing by the sink. She turns, and I realise it's Brax's mother.
"Hello," I wave, awkwardly. "Sorry for... interrupting. I was just going to grab myself a glass—"
"You're helping my boy," she croaks, whispering. She points a thin finger in my direction, offering me a small smile.
Her eyelids close on their own accord as she continues to smile. I gulp, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
"I— yes," I clear my throat, wondering why she had just been staring out the window by the sink, hidden in the half light. "I mean, I'm working with the lawyer who—"
"He's a protector," she shakes her head. "He's such a good boy. My baby boy."
I lean against the opposite wall, my features softening. All I see is a frail women but a loving mother. A person who hasn't had the easiest life and is falling through the cracks, unable to see her own darkness and destruction.
"They all love you," I say, unsure of my own words. It is hardly my place to make such a statement when I barely know Brax's siblings. "They— they care about you."
She nods slowly, her arms shaking as she wraps them around herself. Her gaunt figure makes my own bones ache; the way she is barely more than skin. The hollowness of her dark eyes greet me when she opens them again.
"Thank you for allowing me to stay here," I say, despite wishing I was anywhere else. "It's very kind of you."
I can't stand the awkward pauses. I'm prepared to say anything just to get out of this conversation and if sucking up her ass is what I have to do, I'll bare it.
"You're helping my boy," she smiles. "My home is open to you. Always."
Not knowing how to act, I move towards the cupboard, finding a glass for myself. "I'll just grab some water and leave you... to it."
She turns back towards the sink as I fill the glass. My eyes drag down her bare arms and I notice the needle marks. I look away instantly.
"It'll be nice to have another girl," she whispers. "When my Sof came along, I couldn't believe it. I love my boys, but a bond with a daughter is special."
I watch her as she seems to stare off into nothing, imaging something happy as she grins to herself. I wonder, respectfully, if she's on heroine right now. I've never been around anyone else to know.
"Then Casey came along," she whispers, her expression faltering. "Sweet boy."
"He is," I smile, placing the cup to my lips.
Her eyes snap open suddenly and she turns to stare at me. "I don't want him staying in my house no more. But he won't leave."
My stomach plummets as I frown. I put the glass back down on the sink. "Who?" I whisper. "Casey?"
"No," she stutters, bringing a shaky hand to her lips. "I—"
"Mum."
I jump, gripping the edge of the sink as I turn to face Brax. He rakes a hand through his dishevelled hair, tired eyes hooded as he stares at us. "Go back to bed, mum."
She begins to hum a song to herself, patting Brax's shoulder as she passes, disappearing down the hallway.
I turn around, gulping down the rest of my water. "I was just going—"
"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, shuffling over towards the fridge. He opens it, staring inside at the contents before closing it again.
I don't reply, glaring at him over the glass of water.
"Nightmare?"
"That's none of your concern," I bite.
He stares at me numbly, leaning back against the fridge. Whether it's his sleep deprivation that gets him talking, I'm not sure. "Be grateful that your nightmares only plague you at night."
I huff, washing out the glass before I place the glass back in the cupboard. "You think my terrors only come during sleep?" I grit.
"Do you feel differently?"
"Do I feel— what are you, my shrink?" I scoff, bawling my fists. "Stop trying to— to analyse me. You're confusing me."
"Confusing you?"
"Yes— yes," I lower my voice, suddenly aware of the others who have the joy of sleeping in this house. "I'd rather you kept ignoring me."
I go to walk past him, but he grabs my arm. His fingers linger on the inner side of my wrist. My pulse quickens under his touch. I hope he mistakes it for fear and nothing else.
"Get your hand off me," I glare, pulling away from his grip.
He's close enough to me that our noses are only inches apart. His eyes search my face briefly, dipping to my chin and up again.
"I'd rather you didn't talk to my mum when she isn't herself," he mutters. "She gets confused. Says shit she doesn't understand."
"Whatever you want, your highness," I mumble, meeting his gaze.
I try to decipher his words in those dark eyes, try to understand his complexities, try to understand if I truly know what he's capable of.
I find no answers as I walk back to Sofía's bedroom, waiting for dawn to lighten the horizon.
