Two weeks had passed.
"Luke, I told you I didn't want to talk about it." I whined, making sure to stay on the opposite side of the couch from him. He leaned over the back of the couch, propping his arms on it for a moment before standing straight again.
"Madeline, we can't just let him walk free. What he did isn't ok."
"It's over. He won't come back."
"What if he does?"
"Luke, I don't even know where my dad is. I lost track of that after you took me."
"I know where he is." Luke confessed, quiet but stern.
"Then stay far away from there." I warned. Luke looked down like a child in trouble.
"What did you do?" I groaned, aware that his expression and posture meant he was worried about telling me something.
"I called the police on him. Turned him in. I need your word to help support our case against him." He spoke quickly before I could blow up.
"Why would I do that?" I whined. "I'm not sure I could ever face my father again, let alone revisit the Hell he put me through." I cried, subconsciously reaching for one of the bigger scars that I knew the place of on my back.
"If you have to relive it every day in your mind anyway, why don't you use it to get justice?" Luke retorted.
"I'm scared, okay?" I decided, learning this only after it flew out of my mouth. "I don't care if he would be behind bars, he'd find a way to hurt me again." I whimpered.
Luke moved towards me, his movements less jagged and angered as before. I whined and backed up, my trust running low. I reminded myself of who was in front of me, and didn't pull away when he wrapped his arm around me.
I stayed tense in his arms but didn't fight it as he tried to comfort me.
"I won't let him."
"If you get in the way, he'll kill you." I whispered, dipping my head into his shirt.
"That's fitting because I'd die before I let anyone touch you."
"If you're trying to protect me, you'll have to save me from myself before you save me from anyone else."
"Challenge accepted." He murmured gently. I shuddered.
YOU ARE READING
Stepbrother (Sequel to Stockholm Syndrome)
Художественная проза"I just want you to know how terrifying it is to have no control. Like, physically, no control over what happens to you. Nothing. Being at the mercy of someone else's hand." The look he gave me was glazed over with pain. "The thing is, you aren't th...
