Another Way | Adopted by Gerard Way (Book Three)

33

Harley was still shaking with the hem of her blanket balled in her fists because it seemed to be the only thing keeping her grounded when Gerard arrived. He pushed open the door and slid across the floor in his socks, nearly knocking into the bed.

He had heard a scream and bolted out of bed, getting tangled in the blankets and pulling them off his sleeping wife in the process. He had expected to come upon sixteen-year-old Evelyn panicking with tears on her face. He had expected her to lunge into his arms, and that he'd comfort her as she wet his T-shirt with her tears. Then, he saw Harley, looking small in the big bed where she sat in the light pouring in from the hallway. It put a halt to the memories flooding his mind. She wasn't crying, but she looked afraid, vulnerable, and hurt.

"Harley?" He sat down on the bed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes as though she was afraid of him. Her arms flinched upwards, pulling her blanket up to cover the bottom half of her face. When she realized it was only him, she dropped her arms down again, but the fear didn't leave her eyes. Her mouth moved soundlessly. Gerard reached out and loosened her hands from her blanket, took them in his own and began rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, slowly.

She nodded like she was trying to remind herself how to move her head.

"You had a nightmare?" he guessed and she nodded again, so Gerard held her hands tighter. That was when he realized she was trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Come here, kiddo," he said, pulling her into his arms.

She melted into him, but she didn't move more than that. She didn't panic, she didn't speak, she didn't even shed a tear. Gerard wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, or just hold her silently until she stopped shaking. He felt terrible for thinking it, but he almost wanted her to cry. He didn't want her to keep bottling things up; he wanted her to face her emotions, and tell him what was going on so that he might be able to begin helping. But she seemed frozen and disconnected like a robot that had been drained of power.

It must have taken ten minutes for Harley to relax. Ten minutes of Gerard wordlessly clinging to her while she clung back as though her life depended on it. Finally, though, she began to pull away. Gerard watched her retreat and pull her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs and avoided his eyes.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," Harley said bluntly, cutting Gerard off. Mostly, she didn't want to hear him ask the same question for the third time.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Harley turned her head so she was looking at him, rested her chin on her knees. She looked him in the eyes now, a solemn look on her face, but didn't say anything.

"It might help," Gerard tried.

She sighed and rubbed her tired face with her hands and finally said, "I don't even know what it was about."

She closed her eyes, unable to face Gerard as she lied. But as soon as she closed them, she saw it all again. She saw her father's hand grab her wrist, saw the floor as it seemed to be swept from under her feet, the glass and spilled water and flowers, the blood. Then, she saw her father's face through a screen of her three-year-old tears she wouldn't let fall, even then; it showed not even a flicker of remorse.

Still, she wouldn't open her eyes.

"Really?" Gerard asked. He didn't mean to sound dubious, but he couldn't help be transported back in time to the nights he held Evelyn. Shushed her as she breathlessly attempted to relay her nightmares in as much terrifying detail as she could recollect, even when he told her that she didn't need to try until the panicking stopped.