49. Dre
Chapter forty-nine
Dre
T here must be something fucking wrong with me. I'm perched outside the Winthrop’s overbloated excuse for a house like some twisted gargoyle. My eyes are locked onto the second-floor window where Snowflake's supposed to be sleeping.
Is she? Or is sleep as much a stranger to her as it has been to me lately?
"Come on, Snowflake," I mutter under my breath, willing her shadow to dance across the curtains. It's been days—too many damn days—since I heard her voice. It was like a melody over a discordant track, and now there's just silence, heavy and suffocating.
I ache for the sound of her laughter, the soft lilt of her voice, those pretty green eyes on mine. What kind of lovesick pussy has this girl turned me into? I want to hate it, hate her. But I’m a slave to her. The absence of her gaze is a void, a starless night sky that mirrors the darkness gnawing at the edges of my own sanity.
I run a hand through my shoulder-length hair, the strands catching on the rough calluses of my fingers.
"Shit," I hiss, leaning forward to rest my forehead against the cool handlebars of my bike. The image of Snowflake's face haunts me—the way her green eyes cut through the bullshit, seeing me for who I am. Or maybe who I could be. It's unnerving and addictive, and I'm jonesing for another hit.
She's so close, just beyond that pane of glass, yet she's a fucking world away from me. Her resilience is what got me hooked; it's like looking in a mirror and seeing not what I am, but what I wish I could be. Smart, strong, unbreakable. But even steel can bend under enough pressure.
Has she broken? Did something happen that she’s hiding from us? I’d drag her through the shadows to the darkness I live in if I thought it would help. But, I don’t think it will.
She likes her autonomy. And, I know she doesn’t get enough of that here. So, she’ll fucking get it with me. But, this is fucking torture.
A sudden ache grips my chest, sharp and demanding attention. It's more than just missing her. It's a gnawing, desperate hunger to be near her again, to know she's okay. I've never been the type to yearn, to need, but Snowflake... she's rewritten the script without even trying.
"Dammit," I say, pushing off the handlebars and standing up straight. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the restless thoughts that are spiraling out of control. I need to see her, to assure myself she's still fighting, still defying the hand she's been dealt.
Whatever it takes, I'll tear down the walls around her, brick by brick. Because when you've lived in darkness as long as I have, you recognize the light when you see it. And Snowflake... she's blinding.
I'm across the lawn before I've even realized I've moved. Slinking through the yard, following the same path as last time.
The window yields to my touch, familiar in its silence as I push it open and slip inside. My boots are silent on the plush carpet as I move closer to where she lies motionless, a ghostly figure enveloped in moonlight.
"Snowflake," I breathe her name like a prayer, but she doesn't stir.
The room is cold, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, and I know no amount of warmth will chase it away. It's not the chill in the air that's freezing her; it's something much deeper. Snowflake lies there, a fragile statue carved from ice and sorrow, and I'm powerless to melt it away with words.
Her breathing is even, the rise and fall of her chest the only indication she's not a porcelain doll broken by careless hands. I know she's awake. But it's too quiet, the kind of hush that screams wrongness into my veins. I scan the room, every nerve ending on alert. The air feels thick with something unsaid, an undercurrent of dread that makes my skin crawl.
"Snowflake," I try again, louder this time, hoping to wake her from whatever nightmare holds her captive. But she remains still, lost in a place I can't reach.
I crouch beside her bed, taking in the fragile slope of her cheek, the way her eyelashes cast long shadows against her skin. She's here, but she's gone, tucked away behind walls thicker than stone. It's those two—her so-called parents—that have locked her away in this tower of pain, thinking they can keep her subdued, manageable.
I've always been rough around the edges, a creature of anger and impulse, but something about her silence slices through my armor. I slide into the bed behind her, cautious as if she's made of glass, one wrong touch away from shattering. My arms encircle her, tentative at first, until I pull her tight against my chest. She trembles, a leaf in a storm, and I tighten my hold. Her pain laces through me, a mirror of my own twisted insides.
"Shh, I've got you," I murmur against her hair, tasting the salty dampness of her tears. I don't have soothing words or gentle promises, just this raw need to shield her from the monsters that haunt her.
Her body shakes with silent sobs, and I feel every jolt as if they're my own. The sounds of her grief are a language I understand too well. We're both shards of broken things, trying to find a way to fit together without cutting ourselves open further.
"Who did this to you?" I ask the empty room, voice barely above a whisper.
There's no reply, but I don't need one. I can feel the truth wrapped around us, a serpent coiled in the dark, ready to strike. They've tried to erase her spirit, to mold her into their perfect little puppet. But they don't know Snowflake like I do. They don't see the fire that burns beneath her skin, a flame they'll never snuff out.
I’ll fucking kill them first.
"Whatever they've done, I'll fix it," I vow to the silence, to the girl who can't hear me. "I'll burn their world down if I have to."
I can taste the venom of my words, a deadly cocktail brewed from years of suppressed rage and pain. It's a lethal promise, one I intend to keep. She's not staying here, not another night in this hell they've made for her.
"I'll tear them apart," I vow, feeling the beast in my blood wake up, ready to fight, to protect, to destroy. "They think they can play gods with your life? Nah, they haven't met the devil yet."
My heart drums a warrior's rhythm, each beat a call to arms. For her, I'll be the avenging angel, cloaked in shadows, wielding my love like a blade. They've unleashed something in me, something feral and unforgiving. With Snowflake in my arms, I'm not just a boy with scars and a bike—I'm the storm they never saw coming.
"I'll kill them for this. I swear on my life, Snowflake. You're not spending another night in this house of nightmares."
And I mean every word. Because when everything else is stripped away, when the world turns its back on you, love becomes a weapon. And for Addy, I'll wield it without mercy.
I stare into the void of her room, my words still hanging like a mist between us. The silence is a living thing; it suffocates, stretches, until finally, she shatters it with a voice so frail it could crumble to dust. "It won't change anything, Dre."
Her words are a hesitant stream, tainted with fear, as if each syllable is a step through a minefield. "They'll just... they'll call the cops. They'll drag me back here, kicking and screaming." She looks up at me, those green eyes searching mine for something I'm not sure I have.
"Snowflake," I urge gently, trying to coax the rest from her lips.
But then she halts, her gaze snagging on something invisible to me. Whatever she's about to say gets lost, choked by a sudden fear that flickers across her face.
"What is it?" I probe, scanning the room, desperate to understand, to protect.
My eyes follow her line of sight, landing on the shelves cluttered with knick knacks. Porcelain figures, picture frames capturing false smiles, all of it a fa?ade for whatever darkness is eating at her. But there's nothing there I can fight, nothing I can tear down with my bare hands. It's an enemy as intangible as the dread that coils in my gut.
"Talk to me, Snowflake," I whisper, my voice a lifeline thrown into the abyss of her fears. "Whatever it is, we can face it. Together."
The silence returns, heavy and expectant, as I wait for her to let me into the war she's waging within.
"Snowflake, whatever it is, you're not alone," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. The room feels charged with an energy that makes my skin prickle. My arms tighten around her, and I press my face into her hair, breathing in the scent of lavender and something wild, like a forest after rain.
"I promised you. You aren't alone anymore and I'm not going anywhere. I've seen darkness, Snowflake. There is nothing you can show me that will scare me away."
She shivers, but not from cold. It's fear, raw and unfiltered, and it slices through me sharper than any blade ever could. "Dre, I can't—" Her voice breaks, and it's like hearing glass shatter, each piece a fragment of her spirit.
"Shh," I soothe, my lips brushing her ear. "I've got you."
In the silence that stretches between us, a resolve settles over me like armor. In this quiet space, with her trembling against me, a vow takes root deep within my soul. I will be her protector, her avenger. The darkness within me, the part of me that knows pain and rage, rises to the challenge. It's a demon I've wrestled with all my life, but now I give it purpose. Now, it will serve her.
"I promise you, Snowflake," I murmur against the shell of her ear, feeling her pulse flutter like a caged bird. "I'll slay every last one of your dragons. No matter what they are, no matter where they hide. I'll burn down their castles and scatter their ashes to the winds."
Her breath hitches, and she leans back ever so slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. There's a plea there, a silent call for help that I can't ignore. The scars on my skin, the ink that tells stories of my own battles—they all scream in recognition of her pain.
"Even if it drives me mad," I continue, the words a dark incantation, "I'll piece you back together. I won’t let this world break you any further."
The demon inside me smiles, baring its fangs in a twisted grin of anticipation. It's ready to fight, to bleed, to destroy for her. It whispers of redemption, of salvation found in the act of saving another. And I listen, because maybe, just maybe, in protecting her, I can finally escape the shadows that have haunted me for so long.
"I'm not worth it." Her voice trembles, and she searches my face for the truth.
"Bullshit," I spit, my gaze steady. "You're fucking everything, Snowflake. Everything."
She nods, a fragile gesture that carries the weight of her broken trust. "Okay."
"Okay," I echo, and the word feels like a battle cry.