His to Save

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

ATLAS

I slam the damn diary shut with an anguished roar as white-hot fury courses through my veins like molten lava, burning me up from the inside out.

Tremors rack my body as the weight of Nora’s suffering threatens to crush me.

All these years, he’s been hurting her—and yet, all these years, she’s persevered.

Every single person in her life has let her down, which is why I won’t stop until I find her; until I know she’s safe.

Ellis has asked me about bringing the diary into the station, but I can’t do that until I read every word.

But at the same time, every part of me is terrified to read any more.

Each entry is worse than the one before it, and I honestly don’t know how much more I can take.

Which is bullshit. Nora fucking lived it, and I’m over here pussing out over reading about it?

“Get your shit together, man,” I grumble out loud, trying to calm the beast raging inside of me.

Finding Nora is the only thing that will bring me peace.

If only I knew where to look.

For now, my best bet is to keep searching for some kind of clue between the pages of her diary.

She left it in my mailbox for a reason—I just need to figure out why, and fast.

And so, I read, pouring over her words, until it feels like I’m drowning in the pain she bled onto these pages.

I read until I physically can’t take another entry without puking from the pure agony laid bare before me.

Nora might look small and unassuming, but I swear to God, she’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.

After a quick break, I jump back in, trying all the while to prepare myself for the hurt.

But it’s a fruitless effort, because each new entry is like the slice of a sharpened razor blade across my skin—merciless and full of stinging anguish that lingers long after the cut’s been made.

Hours pass, right along with the pages as I read about Grace’s sickness—one that is eerily similar to my mother’s—and about Nora’s abysmal sixteenth and seventeenth birthdays and about the horrors she experienced at my father’s hands.

By the time I’m a little over three-quarters in, it’s dark outside and my stomach is rumbling.

Though, I’m not sure if it’s from hunger or the need for vengeance brewing inside of me…

The sheer amount of loathing I feel toward—fuck, calling him my dad at this point feels like another sin against Nora— him is unlike anything I’ve felt before.

It’s this driving need that sends me back into her words, because if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I will find him, and he will pay.

DIARY ENTRY, AGE 17

Dear Diary,

She’s gone.

Devastated, Nora

Dear Diary,

I knew it was coming.

Deep down, I knew. But knowing doesn’t ease the pain.

Knowing doesn’t fill the gaping hole in my chest, ease the burning in my eyes, or help me take a full breath.

I tried to write about it afterward but I couldn’t—I wanted to hold onto the hurt for a little while longer.

It’s weird, knowing that I’m truly alone now.

I’m not sure there’s anyone left that even remembers I exist, besides Rand.

There’s definitely not another soul on this earth that cares about me.

Or maybe that’s been the case for a while, because I’m pretty sure Mama stopped caring a long time ago.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give anything to have her back.

She was so sick for so long, and a small part of me is glad she isn’t suffering any longer, but the rest of me—the most of me—wishes she was still here.

That she was healthy and that we could escape the hell that is Rand’s house together.

But instead, she left me here.

All alone. And now it’s me who can’t eat or sleep, because every time I do, I see her lying there in her bed, completely unmoving—and that’s not how I want to remember her.

At first, I thought she was just sleeping really hard.

Rand said her new meds would do that—that they would make her tired.

Well, more tired.

But when I turned on the overhead light, it was clear she wasn’t sleeping.

Her body was stiff, like all of her muscles were tensed up, and when I tried checking her pulse, her skin was as cold as ice.

If it weren’t for her blue lips, she might have looked peaceful.

I feel like I should have cried, but I didn’t.

I can’t. It’s like Dad all over again.

My eyes burn, but the tears refuse to fall.

Maybe Mama was right.

Maybe there really is something wrong with me.

Two parents dead and gone and I’m as dry-eyed as ever.

Up until my dad died, Mama was always the brightest light in any room.

Losing my dad may have dimmed her glow, but Rand…

He completely shattered the bulb, leaving me all alone in the dark without her.

It’s the same with me.

I was a little bent after losing Dad, but Rand broke me.

I know I need to figure out some kind of plan—either to escape or to survive.

I guess they’re one and the same at this point.

Because whether he keeps me here or kicks me out, I’m screwed.

I’m nothing more than an unwanted orphan with a monster for a stepdad.

Huh—maybe in another life I was a Disney princess…

Then again, Rand hasn’t bothered me much since Mama passed.

He hasn’t even been home.

Or maybe he has and I just don’t remember.

Everything’s been a blur.

The only parts I remember clearly are finding Mama and then watching them wheel her bagged body out the front door.

I don’t know if he’s grieving or maybe he’s working out a way to get rid of me too—God knows he’s made it clear I’m not wanted—but the past few days have been this weird mixture of blessed peace and crippling agony all at once.

It’s sort of like when you swim and you accidentally take a breath underwater—you know, the way your nose and chest both burn?

That’s how I feel without Mama.

Like I can’t take a full breath without sucking water deep into my lungs.

Yeah, that’s how it feels.

Like drowning, but on dry land.

I don’t know what to do without her.

What to think… how to feel.

For the past few years, things have just gone from bad to worse, and now, all I can think about is what horrible thing might be lurking around the corner.

When’s the other shoe going to drop?

It’s not like I have much left to lose.

Either way, it’s tomorrow’s problem, because today is Mama’s funeral.

Well, sort of. Rand had her cremated, even though I knew she wanted to be buried next to my dad.

But he did what he wanted, without a single care for me or her wishes.

And now I have to make a dinner in her honor to serve Rand and whoever he invited to this sham of a service.

I wanted to say something to him about it, to scream and cry that she would want to be beside my dad, but I knew better.

Rand likes it when I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut, so that’s what I try to do.

It’s better that way.

But now I don’t know.

I just don’t know.

Anxiously, Nora

Dear Diary,

I told him no.

I begged him to stop.

I pleaded for him to let me go.

But my words fell on deaf ears as he feasted on my pain, savoring each and every cry and whimper.

He took and took and took, until there was no part of me left untouched, no part of me still whole, no part of me untainted by his wickedness.

There’s this deep, pounding pressure in my chest, like the bone itself is caving in and piercing right through my heart every time I think of the cruel words he hissed at me.

“Your mama’s gone and I’m a man with needs. Without her here, someone has to step up and fill them, and that someone’s you.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. I’ve been doing the cooking and cleaning for months now, even before Mama died.

What else could he possibly need from me?

But then his hands dropped to his belt buckle and I knew—I knew exactly what he meant.

I was torn between worry for myself and wondering how in the hell Mom was able to “fill his needs” when she couldn’t even get out of bed.

It was in that moment I realized how truly evil Rand was.

I tried to reason with him by telling him I was too young and that I was a virgin—but both of these things only seemed to excite him more.

I even threatened to call the cops and he just laughed and handed me his phone and told me to have at it—that his buddies down at the station would probably enjoy the show.

He stole from me the one thing I had left, and now I have nothing.

I am nothing.

Everything hurts.

My heart, my soul, and body.

I ache in unspeakable places, in unspeakable ways, and there’s no one who can help me.

I’m all alone and at his mercy.

I can’t stay here. I can’t!

But I know I need a plan to make sure once I’m out, I never have to come back.

Painfully, Nora

Rage and horror coil together tightly inside of me, causing a crushing pressure to build beneath my sternum that pushes and presses and swells, until it feels like my heart and lungs might actually explode.

“How in the fuck—” My words stop as a tear falls from my cheek to the page, smearing some of her words.

Holy shit. I didn’t realize I was crying, but how could I not be?

My dad— he raped her.

And from the sounds of it, he was doing the same to Grace as well.

He’s a fucking predator—the worst kind, too.

The things he’s done are unforgivable.

The mere thought of sharing DNA with him makes me sick to my stomach.

Now more than ever, I have to find Nora and make things right.

I’m not sure how, but I won’t fucking rest until I do.

DIARY ENTRY, AGE 18

Dear Diary,

It’s my birthday today.

I’m officially eighteen—an adult.

If my parents were still alive, they’d make a big fuss about today, with a special breakfast and gifts and cake, the works.

But they aren’t. Instead, I’m all alone, locked in the basement again thanks to Rand catching me trying to take some cash he left on the kitchen counter last week.

Luckily, he didn’t find the sock full of money inside of my pillow.

After the night Rand—God, I still can’t say it.

Anyway, I cracked open my piggy bank and hid all of the money in it just to be safe.

Ever since then, I’ve been keeping all of the cash and change I find on the counter or in the laundry.

I know I’ll need money for when I escape—and I will escape, because there’s something wrong with me, Diary.

Something very, very wrong, and I think I need help.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been off.

At first I thought that whatever Mama had was hereditary, because I’ve been so tired and so nauseous.

But this morning, my boobs started hurting, almost like they do before my period—oh my God!

My period.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

It just can’t be.

I don’t know what to do.

I—oh, God, he’s home.

Everything I know is about to change.

So much change. Over and over again.

Because I was right.

Typically, I like being right, but right now, I really wish I wasn’t.

This is what happens when you tempt the universe.

Or maybe this is all karma for a past life?

I don’t know. God. I can’t stop crying.

Which is weird in and of itself.

Lose both my parents, and not a tear—but in the last few hours, I think I’ve filled Lake Fortune ten times over.

I guess I need to backtrack, but it’s hard.

My thoughts—they’re spiraling like they’re caught in the middle of a cyclone, random words flying out like deadly pieces of debris.

Word soup, Mama used to call it.

Rand came home from work and let me out of the basement.

Said he had to do some work in the yard and that he wanted the house spotless and dinner on the table before he came back in.

I was putting the toilet cleaner away in his bathroom when the box caught my eye.

I’m not sure why Mama had these—well, I guess I am, I’m not an idiot.

I just don’t want to think about it.

Not now, not ever.

But anyway, I know I’ve gone on about being unlucky and the universe hating me, but in that moment, it felt like something was finally going my way.

That is, until I peed on the stick and two pink lines bled across the window faster than I could recap the stupid thing.

Then it felt like my entire life was ending.

Or maybe it’s just beginning.

I don’t know. GOD! I just don’t know.

I’m not fit to be a mother.

I’m barely grown. I have no real high school education, much less a diploma, no money other than what’s in my sock, no job, and no prospects.

I don’t know anything about being an adult, much less raising a child.

I may as well be Rapunzel in her tower, only there’s no prince coming to save me.

No. You know what, forget that.

I don’t need a stupid prince on a stupid horse.

I’ll be my own prince.

I’ll save myself, and the little life growing inside me.

I know it’s not ideal, but I—I don’t know how to describe it.

I’m scared. Terrified, really.

But at the same time, for the first time in a really long time, I feel hope.

Like I’m finally not alone.

But Rand can’t know.

Not ever. Which is why I have to get out of here, and fast.

Worried, Nora

Dear Diary,

I’m going to do it.

I’m going to run.

I have to, because I finally have something to live for.

When I first saw those two pink lines, it was a blow that stung harder than any slap or punch ever could.

I was devastated. I’m not sure I’m fit to be a mother, but I’m damn sure going to protect this child from the monster down the hall.

He will never know it exists.

He will never lay one finger on my baby.

Not ever.

Some might think the life growing inside of me would be a reminder of all I’ve lost—of all of the pain I’ve endured, the hurt, and the terror.

And in a way, they’re right.

But it also gives me hope.

Now I have something—someone—to fight for.

I have a family.

Anxiously, Nora

Dear Diary,

I hope this finds you in time—that you can help me, that you believe me.

Please believe me...

I had to run sooner than planned…

He’s too unpredictable.

I can’t take any unnecessary risks, not anymore, not when I have so much to lose.

It’s funny, I used to want to die, for him to hit me so hard I would never wake up, but now?

Now I want to live. I have to live.

If you’re reading this still, look for me in the place where the lake meets the shore.

I’ll wait for you as long as possible.

I understand if you can’t come, or if you don’t want to.

..but I really hope you do.

Desperately, Nora

“Where the lake meets the shore—oh, shit!” I slam the diary shut and leap up from my chair, because not only do I believe her—I know exactly where to fucking find her.

I just hope I’m not too late.