Untamed

“Why not?”

A second or two trickles by before she moves out of the shadows and into the moonlight. I can see her perfect, full lips I’ve tasted a few times. Her pale skin is like porcelain, and her big eyes reflect her raw, inner pain.

“You know why I can’t.” She rotates all the way onto her back and props up on her elbows, putting our lips only inches apart and forcing me into a position to either move back or kiss her.

Even though it’s agonizing, I don’t choose the latter.

“I don’t know why, Emery. I really don’t,” I sign.

Stale’s text flashes through my mind. I tell myself that what I do next is because of what he said, but deep down I know the truth—that the only reason I’m here with Emery is because I want to be.

I graze my finger across her cheek, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. My heart erratically pounds. “But you can always tell me. I know things have been rocky between us since your father assigned me as your bodyguard, but I’m still the same guy I was before. Nothing’s really changed. I’m still a good listener, and still enjoy spending time with you.”

“Still the same? No, I don’t think so. I wish nothing had changed, but you’re part of my father’s world, Ryler, despite how much I try to convince myself that isn’t true. You telling him we went out… That was a big reminder.” She searches my eyes as if the truth of who I am is in there. Part of me wants her to see it, wants her to see who I really am. “No, everything’s different.” She raises her arm to scratch her forehead, and I spot circular marks on her skin.

“What happened?” I point at the bruises on her wrists.

She swiftly moves to tuck her arm behind her, but I capture her arm, my fingers gently folding around her wrist. I lean in so my lips are close. Tell me, I mouth.

Her chest heaves as she breathes raggedly. She’s not wearing a bra, something I noticed when I arrived at her house. Her nipples are visible through her shirt, and the sight is driving me mad, but not as much as the bruises on her skin. Someone hurt her. And recently.

“I can’t tell you,” she says again, her voice cracking. “I can’t tell you anything anymore.”

Frustrated, I release her wrist and lean back. “Look, I know I fucked up telling your father, but I didn’t have a choice. I promise if there had been a way out of it, I wouldn’t have told him.” I scoot closer to her and her breathing quickens, her chest heaving. “I want to help you, but you have to tell me what’s wrong or else I can’t. And I promise that this time your secret will be safe.” When her lips remain fused, I search for the right words to get her to open up to me, because I need to know who hurt her more than I need anything else at the moment. “Look, I get the whole secret thing. You don’t trust me, and it’s my fault.” I reach over and switch on the lamp before sitting back on the bed.

Emery blinks her bloodshot eyes against the bright light. “I want to, but I just can’t anymore.” She rests against the headboard, staring at me as she aligns the pads of her fingers with the bruises on her arm. “I don’t trust you, Ryler. And honestly, I don’t think you understand how hard it is to keep secrets.”

“But I do… I keep secrets every day.”

“Keeping my father’s secrets isn’t the same thing as what I’m talking about. I mean, your own secrets, the kind so potent it nearly kills you every day not to utter the truth.”

“I’m not talking about your father’s secrets… I’m talking about my own secrets.” The gun pokes at my back as I situate against the wall. How far do I want to go with this? How close do I want to get to her? Really close, I think, but not like this.

Stale’s text replays in my mind. You can’t trust her.

Looking at her right now, with her eyes wide and filled with terror and bruises on her skin, it feels like she’s just a victim, not the enemy. Every time I look at her, it feels that way.

What I wrote about her is the truth. She looks as if she’s withering away and needs help. I used to feel the same way. All the damn time. Still do.

“I’ve never told you how I lost my voice.” I wait until she fixes her attention on me before I continue. “I grew up in a lot of foster homes when I was younger and I spent a lot of my life feeling unwanted, betrayed… alone. When I was about sixteen, I ended up with this one guy… Ben. He was a fucking douche bag from hell. He had a few other foster children and was solely in it for the money.” I ball my hands into fists as anger, resentment, and pain blaze like fire under my skin. I’ve never told anyone about this except for Stale and his partner, and the only reason that happened was because they dug up my file.

“There was this girl living there… Aura. She made me feel not so alone. At the time, I thought I loved her.” I suck in an unsteady breath. “But now I realize it was more of an infatuation. That I was infatuated with the fact that she seemed to be able to see me.” I give a sidelong glance in Emery’s direction and discover she’s watching me intently, soaking in every single word I sign.

I shift my weight, face her, and look her directly in the eyes. “One day, Ben beat the shit out of her. I stepped in and beat the shit out him back, enough that he ended up in the hospital. I thought I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. I’m still not sure. But it doesn’t matter. Right or wrong, Ben lied and said I’d started it, said that the reason why he stabbed me in the throat with a fire poker was to protect himself. He said I was the one who beat Aura, said I was violent and had a temper.”