The Grean Household

45: Returning To Normal

Sammy noticed how his sister wouldn't leave her room. 

She'd sit on the edge of her bed, looking down at her hands as if they've wronged her, or even wronged her family. Sammy would try to talk to her, but it seemed she couldn't hear him. She was too far away, and he didn't know where she went- or even how to find her.

The boy was learning what his mother had to do for her. Each time she'd come home with Willow, she'd go to Henrik, a mix of anger and deep sorrow in her eyes. Sammy heard his sister had scars in her throat, had diseases that were curable, and had discrepancies inside her vaginal canal. He noticed in the way that Willow walked that she was anxious to even be in the house, though he could also tell she was fighting herself silently.

Sammy eventually stopped bothering her, a large piece of himself hurting inside each time he read over the jokes that he remembered would make her silently cackle. Willow didn't seem like herself anymore. Any laughter that was there before that day in May was long gone. 

Sarah would bring her plates of food, switching out the untouched plate. She'd notice how her daughter simply stared out the window, hands folded on her stomach like she was preparing for her death.

  I love you, Sarah would say. There was small reactions in the way her eyes hardened and her jaw clenched. Willow heard her, though it seemed she couldn't react in a bigger way. Each unspoken word hurt her mother deeply, but Sarah was stubborn and brave, and would always try to remind her aching daughter how much she was loved.

Sammy was afraid Willow was mad at him for not trying to help her escape the hands of her captors in the first place. His fear drove him to stay in his own room. 

The house was falling into an energy that made everything seemed slow- dead.

It was at the two week mark did Henrik finally walk into her room. He was slow, knocking to make sure he wouldn't sneak up on her. Sadness took over him each time he laid eyes on his daughter. Despite her hidden scars, Henrik could see what those bastards did to his daughter. Each time he'd grow angry.

Slowly, he sat at the corner of her bed, right at her feet. Henrik was sure his attempts wouldn't get her to speak, but seeing her like this only made him want to try harder. He couldn't understand what happened in the 2 year she's been missing, but he didn't want her to feel trapped in the never ending loop of memories.

"Willow..." Henrik spoke softly. Willow stared out the window, the grip on her own hands tightening. 

"It kills me to see you like this."

The only thing that was going through her mind was that word. 

Kill. It was like the sudden realization of a suspect that they were under arrest for murder. The only feeling she experienced was the stinging sensation in her chest after realizing she was guilty. Just as guilty as the killers who took out half the population in the capital back in 2019.

I killed those people.

Henrik's touch was at her ankle. It was the quick reaction that made him flinch. Willow brought her knees up as she she straightened. Her gasp of shock and trauma echoed off the walls. She tucked her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, eyes wide and staring at Henrik. He put his hand up, signaling that it was her father and not the countless men who forcefully touched her.

"You can talk to me..." Henrik said, eyes soft and eyebrows furrowed. Willow was suddenly shaking her head. She wanted to speak, but it seemed like the blood of her murders coated her vocal cords, drowning her in guilt. Her reaction didn't drive him away. Henrik didn't move, didn't take his eyes off his daughter.

"I..." Willow's voice sounded foreign to her. She was almost convinced that she wasn't speaking, but instead, someone else was. Henrik furrowed his eyebrows, jaw clenching tightly. 

"I'm so tired..." Her jaw clenched and tears of her guilty conscious began to flow. Willow tucked her head below, hiding her tears from her father. Henrik got closer, resisting the urge to just simply hug her, and shield her- like he should have. He should have been home, should have been able to stop all of this from happening.

"I'll never understand, but..." Henrik had to take another breath to keep himself from trembling. 

"I'm here." Willow looked up, eyebrows knit together as tears spilled from her eyes. She slowly threw her legs over the side, rubbing her face. Then, she rested her hand in her lap, her right hand falling to the outside. 

"You can talk to me." Henrik said, glancing down at her hand. She balled the fabric of her sheets into her fist. Willow swallowed back any confession she wanted to spill, wondering if he'd turn her in for her crimes. The thought was too painful to even consider.

"I-I can't." Willow muttered, voice trembling. Henrik got closer, slowly reaching out to take her hand. It was when she flinched away, glancing down at her hands in fear as if she were afraid they were dangerous that made Henrik hold his shaky breath. Slowly, he took her hand. Willow didn't pull away. Henrik held her hand, wiping against her skin with his thumb.

"I'll be here for you, Willow." Henrik reassured. 

"Always."

He didn't let go of her hand, though she began to feel like the atrocities committed by her grip slipping away. Like her father's touch was the validation she needed that convinced her that her actions was the only option at that moment. Willow got closer, resting her head on his shoulder. The warmth reminded her of the officer who carried her to the car. The officer who was Henrik's usually sarcastic and witty brother, Carlisle.

Willow cried, painful tears dripping down her cheeks as she hugged him and cried into his shoulder. Henrik hugged her back, pulling her close, still holding her hand. 

-

It was that same month did she finally come down the stairs, feeling that she should show her face a little more often in the house. Things began to get brighter, the faces of the familiar returning into her memory as a friend in her dwindled recognition system. Sammy was the first to notice she was out of her room, and the first to run up to her and hug her. His grip was tight, like he was trying to keep himself from losing the thing he cared about most.

To his immediate surprise, Willow hugged back. She was tired, he could tell, but Willow fought through. Sarah watched her children come to the table. Willow was still silent, though she could tell that her perimeter of survival was starting to come down. The food tasted pleasant, better than the soggy bread and sandwiches that Trish would steal for Willow.

As she sat there, Willow felt a new piece returning to her. The piece that reminded her where she belonged.