5. Brain broke
Nevaeh
I feel like I’m floating in an abyss of calm. It’s a confusing place to be since I’ve never experienced such bliss before.
Between running from the monsters in my life and the ones in my head, I’m always jumping from one nightmare to another. Serenity is not something I’m used to.
Lowering my guard for this illusion of peace I forget why I need to be afraid of the darkness.
‘You thought I’d let you go?’
The sound of a broken gasp startles me awake, only to realize it’s my own. Sheer terror grips me when the darkness around me doesn’t feel familiar and I can’t see past my foggy vision.
When my freezing hands suddenly brush over something silky, confusion trumps my budding panic. I scurry back, and the highly comfortable bed I'm on bounces with my weight. The spine-chilling fear I wake up with every morning is replaced with utter confusion.
Where the fuck am I?
Clutching the silky material, I hold on to it like it’s the only thing keeping me from slipping back into the land of terror.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
A sudden deep voice jolts me halfway to the ceiling. Rubbing my eyes aggressively, I try to make out the figure hidden among the shadows in the corner.
The rapid pace of my heartbeat slows down significantly when the man repeats his question softly.
Jumping from his seat, he springs open a set of curtains. Even when it blinds me for a second, I’m glad for the light. When the man comes to stand at the edge of the bouncy bed, I find myself gaping at the most bewitching man I've ever laid eyes on.
Am I dead? Because only that would explain the presence of this beautiful Angel.
Wait… that doesn’t make sense.
I’m not going to Heaven.
I snicker at the absurd thought, which makes the man tilt his head in confusion, stopping my inner monologue.
The previous frown on his perfectly sculpted face turns into amusement the longer he observes how I can’t stop looking at him.
“Angel?” The word slips out without permission.
Wait, why does this seem familiar?
And why is he so pretty?
“Close enough, sweetheart. It’s Anxo .” His lips turn up in a smug smirk at my shameless gawking.
It's not my fault the maroon sweater is hugging his broad shoulders like that.
Did he just call me sweetheart? ME? Sweetheart?
Hoping to jumpstart my brain, I shake my head furiously and try to rearrange the broken wires inside. The pinch of pain triggers something and last night's events hit me hard enough to knock me out of my sleepy daze.
Groaning, I drop my head in my hand when the sudden pressure of broken and mismatched memories makes my head throb.
My fingers graze a thick bandage on my forehead, and I rip it out without thinking it through.
Shit, why did I do that?
Oh, fuck yesterday. The Deviants, the coven, the kid —
Shit! Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. THE KID!
Already anticipating my inner turmoil, the man I now remember as Anxo aka Angel immediately rushes to my side. “Calm down, Nevaeh. The boy is fine. He hasn't woken up yet which is slightly concerning but the healers are helping him. He's fine, I swear.”
I let his words sink in before I go running around this place like a crazy woman looking for her kid.
“Now, take a deep breath, yeah?” I nod at his alluring voice and mimic him when he takes a deep breath. “That’s good, sweetheart. Breathe for me.”
Wait… why the hell am I obeying Angel man?
Once my subtle panic fades, I open my eyes to find Anxo sitting beside me. Close enough to brush my finger along his cheekbone.
I immediately swat away the idiotic thought.
It seems like every time I blink, Angel gets closer. I want to ask him why he continues to erase the distance between us but don’t.
... And it’s not because I’m a little bit addicted to his scent, or the way my body hums at his proximity, or how the constant screeching inside my head stops, or—
I did not just think any of that! That was not me.
I think I’m a victim of witchcraft.
I shake my head subtly to drop that line of thought and look around, hoping to see the man I’ve been dying to meet. “Where’s Papa?”
My question makes Anxo’s eyes flash with uncertainty before he masks it.
His calmness is suspicious to me. I keep waiting for him to lash out, but how he distances himself from every aggressive and upsetting emotion is... just suspicious .
There has to be something wrong with him.
No one can be good all the time.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and fed first.”
“And then we’ll talk?”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
Ugh, why does he keep calling me that? I hate it. Not.
When he gives me a soft, dimpled smile, what’s left of my brain dissolves. The way his dimples shyly make an appearance has my breath faltering.
Composing myself because this man is somehow ruining my ‘unbothered as fuck facade’, I untangle my limbs from the feather-like comforter and slip out.
Shifting my weight on my legs, I bounce to check if everything is back to its original condition before turning to the man who's now waiting with a bunch of clothes in his hands.
Showing me where the bathroom is, Angel hands me the clothes. Eyes forever on me. Why does he keep looking at me with such hopeful eyes?
Like he wants something from me.
I turn back before I can lock myself in the bathroom and ask, “Why do you keep calling me that?”
We just met yesterday. People only refer to their close ones with endearing terms, not random strangers.
Angel takes my question as another invitation to stand mere inches from my face.
Unexpectedly, his palm comes to brush my cheek. The touch is scorching hot and starts a fire that warms me to the toes in an instant. But my head starts spinning when I don’t flinch.
Not even for a split second do I feel the need to protect myself from him. My mind doesn’t flash with every way a man of his stature can hurt me. My relaxed response could be because he helped me yesterday when I needed it. That has to be it.
The spark of warmth emitting from his palm contrasts my cheek’s rough, dirty skin. My eyes flutter shut on their own accord and I lean into his palm, unable to process my reactions to him.
“Your blush is my new favorite thing in the world.” He whispers, and it's not what I was expecting.
His words intensify the unfamiliar heat on my face that slowly spreads to my neck. Something is happening to me and I’m not sure if I like it .
Angel's rough chuckle urges my eyes back to his face when a soft pressure on my forehead makes me freeze.
I swear I’ve felt this before.
Tilting my face, I see his eyes pressed shut and his lips on my forehead. The soft touch lingers momentarily, and I have this strong urge to ask him to repeat it.
He should definitely do that again.
No! What is wrong with me ?
I can’t stomach his intense gaze that's waiting for me to do or say something, so I back away and I hurry into the bathroom, shouting ‘shower time’ like a lunatic.
Why is this green-eyed stranger affecting me so much?
Facing away from the door, I freeze at the size of the bathroom. And so many buttons. Stripping out of the rag, I start hitting every button on the panel until I find the one that pours hot water. It takes me fifteen minutes to understand the shower settings and the products on the shelf, but this is undoubtedly the best shower of my life.
After a lot of scrubbing, I'm finally free of the dirt and blood I was starting to think were a permanent part of me. Finishing up the relaxing shower, I thoroughly clean my teeth with a new brush and repeat the process since it’s been too long.
But no amount of brushing helps me tackle the nest on my head. I rubbed my scalp free of decades’ worth of dirt, but now I have tears in my eyes from pulling my hair too hard. Still, I don't reach the part where the comb slides from my scalp to the roots in one move.
Fuck this shit.
Putting on the new undergarments Angel gave me, I'm left staring at the top dumbly. I can’t wear this. The sleeves are short, and the T-shirt sticks to me like a second skin when I put it on. Most of my scars are hidden from view when I pull up the black sweatpants, but the ones on my arms have me reconsidering leaving the bathroom.
The scars are raised, jagged, and poorly healed. No one wants to see this .
Angel will have questions if I go out like this, and I just want to pretend I'm somewhat normal for at least a day.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I decide to ask him for a coverup. That will save both of us from looking at the hideous reminders of my past.
My scars will not be a topic of conversation today.
My newfound nerves makes me swallow thickly, and it's strange because I’ve spat in the face of my tormentor, fully aware of the consequences, yet I can’t ask Anxo for a jacket.
Leaving the bathroom, I find Angel sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. His eyes slowly take in the way I'm covering my shoulders and arms with the towel.
“Um, I… could I maybe borrow—just something? It doesn’t have to be clean or anything.” I stumble over my words for the first time in my life. Afraid of asking something will make Angel react like they did.
How pathetic, Nevaeh.
When I gather enough courage to look at his face instead of the mesmerizing patterns on his arms, Angel is studying me with an intense look.
Maybe he’s mad. I would be, too, if a stranger asked me for clothes, slept on my bed, and kept asking for more things.
I’m about to say I didn’t mean it when he erases the space between us in two long strides. I don’t think Angel understands the concept of personal space.
I don’t think I mind.
Treacherous brain.
“Arms up,” he whispers.
I submit without a thought, another first for me.
I’m still lost in his deep emerald eyes as he guides my arms through the softest material, and when it's pulled over my head, I look down at the pale blue hoodie swallowing me whole.
Okay, riddle me this.
How did he know I was going to ask for a jacket, huh?!
There is only one right answer .
Witchcraft.
The material is so soft and smells exactly like him. A bit of perfume and something else I can’t place.
Side note: I want to be buried in this hoodie when I die.
I’m lost in subtly inhaling deep breaths of his cologne, which overwhelms my senses in the best way when Angel gently grips my chin with his index finger and thumb to bring my eyes back to him.
Leaning close enough that I can feel his warm breath on my face and his lips a mere breath away from mine, he says, “Ask me anything you desire, and I’ll give it to you. I don't want to see any hesitation on your beautiful face next time, okay?” He is so close some of his words allow him to brush his lips against mine ever so slightly.
I think I’m going to pass out.
I find myself nodding without protest, which I'm doing a lot with him, and I still don’t understand why.
Angel begrudgingly pulls away, and I have to stop myself from gripping his collar and pulling him back in.
Think Nevaeh, what else did you break in your already twisted brain yesterday?
Too engrossed in figuring out my reactions to him, I almost miss Angel saying it’s time to meet the rest of the group. For a quick moment, I wonder how bad it would be if I went back to the dungeon.
I groan at the thought of meeting new people. Just thinking about more people to judge, scan, and do threat analysis on makes my head hurt.
Not to forget, they would be doing the same to me.
“Do I have to?”
I don't want more people to discover the loose bolts on my top shelf.
“Yes, now stop pouting. I'm telling you, there’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart. You’ll love them.” Angel winks over his shoulder, and the only reason I haven't fallen is because he holding my hand .
‘But they won’t. No one likes weaklings.’
I have the voice of my tormentor living rent-free in my head that taunts my every move.
I’m more worried about them not liking me, Angel.
“Come on, they’re waiting.”
Throwing my head back, I start complaining out loud, but Anxo keeps dragging me behind him, not paying mind to my tantrum.
“What kind of name is Anxo anyway? What does it mean?”
“Angel in Galician.”
No fucking way. Is he messing with me?
“You’re a Horseman of the apocalypse, and your parents named you Angel ?”
I’m beyond confused before I remember my name is literally H eaven backward and shut up.
Maybe his parents have beef with Heaven like Papa.
“My babysitter did actually. My parents didn’t have time to name me, and she was a human who thought I was the spitting image of an angel. When she started calling me Anxo, everyone just rolled with it.”
The way he talks about his parents feels rehearsed like the topic drains his energy. I don’t think he likes them.
“You know Spanish then?”
“Nah. Parents fired her a couple years later.”
I don’t understand. I know his parents have Hispanic heritage, so how come he doesn’t know the language? How does that happen?
“It’s fine. I just never had someone to practice with.”
Who’s going to tell him nothing about this is ‘fine’?
I'm suddenly disappointed with people I’ve never met.
When did I turn into such an empath?
Angel pulls me inside a small kitchen, and before I know it, I’m lifted off the ground and placed on the counter like I weigh nothing.
Angel touches me too much.
As soon as I'm alone, I'm going to get to the bottom of whatever it is this man is doing to me. I can't go around not being skeptical of people anymore. That's how you end up dead.
Pulling out various packets Angel asks, “What can I make you, sweetheart? You must be starving.”
Uh oh. I don’t think I can eat. If I smell food, I'm not sure if I’ll devour it or throw up.
“Maybe later?”
I can see he wants to argue but thankfully he drops it when I ask for something to drink instead.
While Angel takes his sweet time to browse the contents of his refrigerator, I jump down from the counter to look around.
There’s a shiny packet inside a cabinet that’s practically calling out to me, so I grab the handle with my left hand, but before I can figure out what I did wrong, the door is flying straight for my head. I prepare for a harsh bang, only to feel something soft covering my forehead.
Opening one eye hesitantly, I find a palm covering most of my head, successfully saving me from a hit that was meant for me.
Clearing his throat, Anxo narrows his eyes and gives me the ‘Are you serious?’ look.
Shrugging with a sheepish smile, I raise both thumbs to show him I'm fully intact... thanks to him.
Anxo shakes his head with a sigh, but I see a smile begging to break free. I’m not happy he’s trying to hide his dimples, but forget all about it when he hands me a bottle of juice and unexpectedly kisses my forehead.
Woah, another kiss?!
I’m really struggling to understand why I'm not bothered with the amount of physical boundaries I’m allowing Angel to cross.
I think the witches broke you, Nevaeh.
Grabbing my hand again like he can’t get enough, Angel guides me through the maze of similar hallways while I sip on the surprisingly delicious juice.
Lost in the taste, I forget that I have to follow Angel, not the other way around. And I’m reminded of that when he abruptly pulls me back into his firm chest by pulling on the hood I’m wearing.
Irritated with the manhandling, I go to swat his arm, only to come face to face with a glass wall. A very clean glass wall that my blind as-a-bat ass was about to walk into.
Anxo silently takes the empty bottle from me and dumps it into a trash can nearby. I turn to thank him but stop when I see his shoulders shaking. When he finally turns to face me, the last of his control slips away, and Angel bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach.
Huffing childishly, I turn to my right and start walking, but stop when his laugh doubles in volume.
If I weren’t so utterly embarrassed, I would be concerned about his bright red face and the fact he’s not breathing right.
“Wrong… wrong way, sweetheart,” Angel wheezes between barely contained chuckles.
I swear if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to do something uncharacteristic... like cry.
‘Do it. Show him weakness and see how quickly he turns his back on you.’
Noticing my gloomy expression, Angel quickly sobers up and engulfs me in a bear hug from behind. His arms wrap around my shoulders, as he presses his chest tightly against my back. All my senses seize at his tight hold and cheek resting on my head.
I wait for the wild thumping of my heart to trigger my fight response, my Divine to flash and crave chaos, for alarms to start ringing in my head and forcing me to do something drastic like poke his eyeballs out, but nothing happens.
My heart beats serenely as if this is normal. My head is blank. No anxious thoughts makes me overthink and form elaborate plans to protect myself. Instead, a sense of peace fills me with the embrace.
My arms come up to cover his, resting on my waist like this is not the first time he has hugged me.
He is hugging me.
What has this man done that my entire being, body and soul, accepts him as my solace? Everything in me refuses to distance myself from his touch.
It’s been so long time since anyone has touched me without the intention of hurting me that I can’t resist soaking in the gentle way Angel is holding me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re a walking disaster.” He snickers before kissing the side of my head. “I thought you had heightened senses and pure Divine power?”
“It’s not my fault! The glass was too clean, and who even puts glass in place of a wall huh?”
My fingers trace the markings on his wrists peeking from under the sleeves of his sweater.
After he's done laughing at me because I won't stop blaming the glass, Anxo leads me downstairs.
Don’t get me wrong, if it was anyone, I would’ve dislocated that perfect jaw a long time ago, but I can’t seem to conjure a single harmful thought about Angel.
At the end of the stairs, he turns around and hesitates before asking, “Do you trust me?”
“No.”
It’s an automatic response.
I don’t have to think about it because it’s the truth. No matter how good Anxo is to me or how much I want to be in his presence, I can’t trust him… not yet anyway.
And he shouldn’t either.
Angel has no idea what they turned me into.
I’m not exactly proud of the blood that stains my entire being, but I had to learn to attack first or you become the prey with no way out.
“Wow. You didn’t even think about it.”
I search his eyes for signs of anger or hurt, even disappointment, but all I find is understanding . And I don’t want him to understand me because I can’t and won't dump my gloomy darkness on him.
Ducking my chin, I hide my shame for not being good or normal enough for his friendship.
Anxo has thousands of people counting on him. I can’t be selfish to think he will help me with the baggage I drag behind me everywhere.
Anxo is like clear skies on a sunny day. I’d hate to ruin him with my thundering grey clouds.
Patting his back pocket, Angel suddenly pulls out a bar of chocolate. “What if I bribe you?”
I'm practically drooling just looking at it. I haven’t tasted anything remotely good in a decade.
Angel asking for trust when I'll give my kidney for that bar if he asks.
I nod vigorously, “I’m willing to reconsider.”