58. Home
HOME
Home. Who would have thought going home had another obstacle? The horror display outside the hospital doors makes me want to hide from the world forever. Conner warned me. Mrs Jones warned me. Mrs Crawford told me to wear a mask.
I thought I’d be okay. Strong enough to get through a swarm of people. My dad abused me my entire life. Why would I fear news outlets?
I didn’t realise they were worse.
Much worse.
The doors open, and once they notice me, they swarm. There’s no care that I was in the hospital. They don’t care that I don’t like how close they are to me. They don’t care about personal space. They don’t care about my emotions. They don’t care. All they care about is the gospel.
They care for a story to post online, which I’d already seen late last night before Conner could switch the channel.
Neighbours who had never called the police or cared for my well-being the entire time I lived there spoke as they knew me.
The children’s channel was the only channel not focused on my abuse.
“Noya!” they shout, calling my name. One of them even calls me Dawn.
“Noya, how do you feel about overcoming your abusive father?” one of them asks.
“Noya! Noya Dawn Taylor! What are you going to do now that you’re free?”
“Noya! Why didn’t you leave? Did you like it when your dad beat you?”
My eyes widen, and my insides turn to jelly.
“Fuck off,” Conner snaps.
Mrs Jones opens the door, and Conner and I shuffle into the car. The traumatic voices and desperate questions cut off. I exhale a deep breath, hoping it will wash away what they said. Do they think I liked it when Dad hurt me?
I feel sick.
Leaning against Conner’s shoulder, I wrap my arm around my stomach, and the layers of fear slide over me again. Why do they feel the need to bombard me? Why is it okay for society to attack and attack when I only want to be free and live my dream?
“You and Noya should lie low for a week,” Mrs Jones declares. “Once I drop you at the apartment, I will grab some groceries so you don’t have to leave.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Thank you, Mrs Jones.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” She turns her head toward me and asks, “Do you use tampons or pads?”
“Uh…” I glance up. Conner gazes out the window, pretending to ignore the conversation. “Liners and pads with wings, please.”
“It’s a nice day outside,” Conner announces. “There’s a lot of… sun and… trees.”
Mrs Jones parks out the front, and we get out quickly, worried that some news outlet vans are following us.
We head inside the confines of the apartment building.
Conner pushes the button for the elevator.
Outside the building, two long white vans pull up, and my stomach drops when the reporters step out and set up their recorders.
I feel safer once we are inside the apartment. I feel safer knowing the bedrooms have no windows for news reporters to view and subject me to more pain than I’ve already felt over the past few days.
“Is it all right if I can have a shower?” I ask Conner. “I want to remove this hospital smell from me.”
“Noya.” Conner places his hands on my hips, what little of them I have. “This is your home, too. You don’t need to ask permission anymore.”
My throat constricts. As I glance around the apartment, my heart beats faster, but in a good way. This is my home, too—a secure place. Where there’s no screaming, shouting, and, most of all, there’s no pain. There’s just him… the Noble Knight I fell for so quickly–too quickly, some might think.
“I’ll need clothes… at least for today. Then, I need to go back to that place to get–”
“Forget about them. I will get my mum to get you some new clothes.” He pulls away, digs into his pocket, and takes out his phone. “What size are you?”
“Conner, stop. You’ve all already done too much for me.”
“Then you can pay me back,” he replies, brushing off my words. “What size are you, baby?”
I bite my lip, knowing Conner will do what he deems right. However, by saying that, don’t I want the clothes at that place? Every piece holds a memory I don’t want to be reminded of. And the smell… It’s hard to get the stench off them once they attach.
“I’m a size eight, or an… extra small,” I admit, disgusted with my body.
Conner nods while pressing the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Mum. Are you at the shops? Can you do me a favour?” There’s a slight pause.
“Can you get some clothes for Noya? A few size eight, some size nine… yeah, ten. I meant ten.” He blushes.
“Bra size? Mum, how would I know that? Oh, yeah.” Conner turns to me. “What bra size are you?”
“I’m an A,” I squeak.
“Did you hear that? Good. Shoes? Uh…” He smiles apologetically at me. “Here, I will give the phone to Noya.”
I tell Mrs Jones my shoe size and the size of my underwear.
I thank her repeatedly, but she brushes it off every time I thank her.
This family is too generous and kind. It’s hard not to cry once I hang up and hand Conner the phone.
He asks if I’m okay, but I shake my head before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.
I take a few minutes to start the shower.
I sit down on the toilet and cry. I’ve never felt this much kindness before.
How easy it is for the Jones family to care for and treat me the way I wished my parents would care for and love me.
How easy it is for Mrs Jones to think of me as her child more than my parents thought of me as their own.
It is easy for Conner to love me when I’ve questioned whether my parents—my blood—ever loved me or if I was nothing but a problem they created but couldn’t get rid of without going to jail.
Conner hands me his shirt and boxers when I leave the shower. “I’m going to have a shower now. After I get out, maybe we can watch something.”
“Well,”—I step towards him while I hug the clothes he gave me—“we still have all those Marvel movies.”
“You like them?” Conner’s eyes light up, making me smile and nod. “Okay! I’ll make my shower quick.”
He goes to move into the bathroom when I reach out and grab his arm. “Conner, thank you for taking me home that night.”
“What night?”
“That first night. I don’t want this to feel like a lot of pressure on you, but you saved me that night…” I bite my lip before breathing out, “Literally.”
He furrows his brow before realising what I mean. His eyes soften, glistening with unshed tears. Blinking them away, he gazes into the bathroom. “I hope that was the last time you thought about something like that.”
“It was.” I lean my head against the door frame. “You and Sammy. You both showed me how much I would have missed. I’m grateful to have both of you in my life.”
Conner smiles. “You should call her off my phone while I shower. I’m sure she’s dying to hear from you.”
He unlocks and hands me his phone before closing the bathroom door. I head into the bedroom, dress, and sit down on the edge of the bed. I touch the background image of us at his mum’s place at dinner. He cropped out everyone else, and it was just me on his lap.
I go into his contact and hesitate at my number when I scroll down. My heart flutters at the orange and green love hearts on either side of my name—our favourite colours. Scrolling further down, I tap Sammy’s number. It rings twice before Sammy answers.
“Conner, how is Noya?” Sammy barks.
“Hey… I’m fine, Sammy.”
“Noya!” she cries. Literally, I think. Then I confirm it when I hear the sobs and sniffles. “How are you? Are you out of the hospital?”
“I’m okay, and yes, I am out of the hospital. I’m at Co—my apartment. I was calling to see if you wanted to come over tomorrow.”
“Yes! Of course! When’s the earliest I can come?”
“Uh… maybe around lunch. We can have lunch together.”
“Sweet! Is it all right if Dylan comes? He’s been worried sick as well.”
“Yeah, I was going to say he’s more than welcome to come.” I hear the shower shut off and turn my head to the door. “I’m a little tired, so I will talk to you tomorrow. I will send you the details of where I live later.”
“Okay! You just rest up, Noya! Bye!” I hang up, and when I open the door, Conner has a towel wrapped around his waist, heading to his room. He pauses when he notices me. “Here’s your phone back.”
“Keep it until you’ve added whatever contacts you want into the phone my mum gave you. I think she put it in the suitcase.”
“Oh… are you sure?”
“There’s no one else I want to talk to besides you, and you’re here.”
The flush moves across my cheeks and neck. “You’re cheesy.”
He chuckles while heading into his room. While he dresses, I go to the TV and figure out how to turn it on. Once I figured out how to turn it on, it was easy to find Disney+ on the home page of the smart TV.
Conner sits beside me after he dresses in a shirt and sweats. His arm instinctively rises, and I move into him and rest my head on his chest. This is it. This is my home, and I want nothing more than to lie here with the one I love in our bubble.
Home.
This is what a home should feel like.