𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚖(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢

Feyre was watching me carefully as we got ready for bed that night. I was sitting at our vanity and brushing my long hair out.

"Stop staring at me," I said to her. She glanced away quickly, her cheeks turning red.

"Sorry," she uttered. "I was just wondering how you felt about the dinner. And . . . everyone."

I turned in my chair to face her, thinking it over.

"They were loud and impertinent," I recalled. "But I don't know. They were also kind. And they made me feel comfortable."

"I've never seen you open up like that to anyone else," Feyre observed. It was true that she was the only one I'd opened up to as of recently. And I still hadn't told her everything.

"It wasn't easy," I admitted, my cheeks heating. Had I overshared with them?

"Well, I'm proud of you," she said with a smile.

"You are?"

"Always," she replied.

I smiled sheepishly, getting into our bed. No one had ever told me they were proud of me before. I curled up at her side, nuzzling close to her as she held me.

"I'm sorry that I overlooked the way Tamlin was treating you," she whispered. I tensed at the mention of my brother.

"It's okay, Fey," I answered. "It wasn't your responsibility.

✯¸.'*¨'*✿ ✿*'¨*'.¸✯

    I was little for a 10 year old, but the cabinet was still too small for me to move an inch. My head was spinning from breathing in the same air for ... I didn't know how long it'd been now.

     Father had beaten me and shoved me into the cabinet, locking it. I had been crying for what felt like hours, now.

     I weakly banged my hand against the door, as much as the limited space allowed me to.

    I heard the lock jiggle, and I perked up. The door opened, and I gasped at the cold air, scrambling out of the cabinet.

     I didn't even see who let me out before I jumped into their arms, shaking with sobs.

"You're okay," Tamlin said, though he seemed taken aback. He hesitated before carefully wrapping his arms around me.

     Tamlin and I weren't close. He was 10 years older than me, and was never home. I'd rarely even had a conversation with him. But I liked him better than my other brothers. At least he never hit me.

     But I was so desperate for comfort, I buried my face in his shoulder as I cried and let him hold me.

     Usually, I went to my mother for comfort. But not when it was my father who hurt me.

     Our mother worshipped our father, and he treated her like a queen. She loved him greatly, and refused to accept the fact that he abused all of her children. Despite the fact that she witnessed it several times.

     The last time I'd run to her after a beating and told her what happened, she'd just scolded me for speaking of her mate so poorly.

"Do you need me to take you to Mother, mousy?" Tamlin asked me as I pulled back. He'd called me that for as long as I could remember.

"No," I declined, sniffling. "She'll just tell me Father's a good male and he had a reason for what he did."

"It's easy for her to say that when he's never laid a hand on her, isn't it?" he asked me. I nodded, feeling my lower lip tremble.

    I loved my mother so much. And I knew she loved us, too. But it hurt to see her defend our father no matter what he did. How could someone love a person that hurt her children? How could she love him more than us?

     The day Tamlin had turned seventeen, he'd made his own friends and stayed away as much as he could. I was only seven, then. So we hadn't ever had time to get to know each other.

     I knew our father and brothers hated him because he was too "soft." Mother adored him, just as she adored all of us. Just not enough to protect us from the monster she was mated to.     

     But Tamlin had always seemed to care for me. He joked with me when he was around. He liked to make me laugh when I was sad. But he'd never comforted me like this before.

"We should take you to a healer for those bruises," Tamlin decided, studying the wounds I'd suffered from the beating.

"I h-hate him," I managed through tears. Tamlin sighed, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"I know, mousy," he said. "Me too."

My cheeks were wet with tears when I woke up, still in Feyre's arms the next morning. She stirred as I sat up. Her face turned concerned when she realized I had been crying.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up. I couldn't respond.

I buried my face in my hands, trying not to let more tears fall. It was no use. Feyre rested a hand on my shoulder.

"Tam's never gonna forgive me for leaving," I said through my cries, glancing up at her. She pursed her lips, a sigh leaving them.

"He should be the one begging for your forgiveness," she countered. "After everything he put you through, he can't be surprised that you left."

I didn't reply, and she spent a few minutes helping me calm down until my tears stopped.

"I've put up with it for centuries," I reminded her, sniffling. "I wouldn't have had the nerve to leave if it wasn't for you."

"Well, I'm glad I gave you the nerve," she said, grimacing. "I couldn't even stand a few months of it. I don't know how you put up with it for so long."

"He was my only remaining family," I recalled. "He was kinder to me than my father was, so I felt like I was lucky to have him."

"He hit you," Feyre recalled.

"He smacked me," I corrected. "That's nothing compared to what my father put me through."

"You never talk of your father or brothers," she pointed out.

"They were assholes," I muttered. She gasped.

"Such disgusting language from a refined lady," she teased, wrapping her arms around me from behind. I couldn't help but smile, a small laugh leaving my lips.

"It's the least disgusting word I can use to describe them," I told her. "I'm sure Tamlin told you a bit about them, but they were horrible."

"He did tell me a bit," she admitted. "But I want to hear it from you."

"I talked about it at dinner," I reminded her.

"This is just us," she said, taking one of my hand's in hers.

I knew I could talk to her about anything. Well, almost anything. I just hated feeling vulnerable.

"My father was cruel, and he had a temper that put Tamlin's to shame," I confessed. "While he treated our mother well, he treated all of us very badly."

"Why didn't your mother try to stop it?" she wondered.

"She loved him," I said. "A lot more than she loved us. He could do no wrong in her eyes. If I complained about him, I was in the wrong for speaking badly of her mate."

"My mother was similar," Feyre admitted. "She loved our father more than anything. But us . . . I still don't know how she felt about us."

Feyre had never spoken to me about her mother before. She'd told me all about her father and sisters, but she'd never mentioned her mother. And I hadn't asked.

"Tamlin only gets mean when he's provoked," I said. "But Father was mean for no reason at all. He would call me pathetic and worthless. He would make me feel like I was never good enough, he would make me feel like I was nothing."

"You're not any of those things," Feyre said to me, reaching out to wipe a tear from my eyes. "Now let's get dressed, Mare. We have a long day ahead of us."