Chapter 7 Confession #2
“Don’t,” I growled. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away. You just spoke, Rafe. We couldn’t understand the words, but you tried and we want to understand. Please.”
He reached up then, grabbing my palm and placing it over his chest. His fingers shook as he slid my hand over the ink that sprawled there, tugging my touch to a ridged spot against the column of his throat.
I’d never noticed it before because it was thoroughly tattooed over, but it was a scar.
Raised and long, it had to have been a major injury to his throat, maybe even to his vocal chords.
“It hurts for him to talk,” I said, understanding. “He has a scar here. Maybe from Viktor.”
Kane mumbled something under his breath before he snatched Rafe’s free hand and brought it to his mouth.
“Tomorrow,” he said, mirroring the way I’d spoken, “you’ll write it out on the ASL instructor’s whiteboard.
We’ll get you up there, pin the bitch down if we have to, but you’re going to tell us what’s going on. ”
Rafe pulled back, and I could faintly make out him shaking his head. He reached for my face again and tapped the hollow of my cheek once. No.
I grimaced. “So you’re choosing death, then?” I asked against his callouses.
Tap. No.
My brows drew together. “If you don’t learn ASL,” I said slowly, making sure he could understand, “they’ll kill you off or we will, on accident, trying to get through those drills.”
Rafe dropped his hands to his knees. A strangled, nervous sound left his throat, and my shoulders tensed. He was trying. He was. And that—it was enough for all of us.
After that night, Thorne, Kane and I paid close attention to Rafe when we were all brought to the classroom.
An embarrassed flush stained his neck, his dark eyes flicking toward us.
He rubbed his forehead, fist clenched around a pencil as he attempted to fill out the small quiz the instructor made us take.
“Motherfucker,” Kane said, causing Thorne and I to jump. We never talked outside the cell or drills. “He can’t fucking write,” Kane announced. He snapped up from his chair.
“S-sit down,” the instructor hurled toward Kane as he strode to the whiteboard.
“Calm down, lady,” he grumbled, shouldering her out of the way and writing CAT in huge letters on the board. He tapped it, Rafe staring at him helplessly. “Can you read that?” Kane asked, almost shouting. He enunciated the words, Rafe’s eyes flicking to Kane’s mouth. “Motherfucker, can you read?”
Rafe’s flush deepened. He gripped the edges of his desk, ducking his head slightly before he finally shook it.
No. He couldn’t read. He couldn’t write. That meant all our classes, he’d been winging it, latching to what he could lip read. Even the instructor was speechless, her eyes wide as she looked between all of us, but to her credit, she was also the first one who spoke.
“Okay then,” she said and pressed down on her pencil skirt as if she were wiping her palms. “Then we do this differently.”
“No offense,” Kane said, and I closed my eyes knowing the most offensive thing was about to come out of his mouth, “but you’re fucking useless if you can’t teach that man sign language without having to point at your stupid fucking index cards or whiteboard.”
She sputtered. “Listen,” she said, straightening as she brought her eyes up to Kane’s.
It was impressive. I’ll give her that. Kane was scary.
I mean we all were, but he was a good foot and a half taller than the woman and looked like he could split her in half with his bare hands.
“My life is on the line, too,” she gritted out.
“My instructions were to make you better communicators or face consequences I’d rather not say aloud.
So you will sit back down, and you will let me adjust the curriculum so I can properly teach Rafe. ”
Kane folded his arms. He looked her up and down, seeing her in a new light.
We all were. “Sorry,” he said after a moment that felt endless.
He strode back to his desk and sat down, spreading his legs wide and slouching down before he gestured toward her with a sweep of his hand. “The floor is yours, Miss…?”
“Mayhew. Florence Mayhew,” she said, lifting her chin a bit, her heels clicking as she moved into her typical position in front of us. Then she thought better of it and pointed at us. “Tell me, how have you talked to Rafe in the past? Is it only lip reading?”
“Basically. He responded through force in the way that was needed,” Thorne said. He shrugged. “But Arden did more. She puts his hand on her mouth.”
Florence’s eyes widened a little. “He can feel your words? Does he touch other parts of your face or neck?”
I swallowed. “Sometimes. Like he’s feeling the vibration.”
“That’s because he is,” she said, smiling a little. It was…weird. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw someone get excited over something. She grabbed her chair from the front and dragged it in front of Rafe’s desk.
He watched her with a scowl, clearly not liking how much attention was on him. Kane, in the desk beside him, clapped Rafe on the shoulder, making him flinch. Rafe tilted his gaze toward Kane, his glare enough to sear a hole through a wall.
“This is great, buddy,” Kane said with wide smile. “We can finally get you talking just so Halden can beat you silent.”
Thorne and I released breathy, half-formed laughs.
The very act of laughing caught both of us off-guard.
We shared a look, the same look we always shared when Kane was Kane.
It was grateful, longing, and sad—the kind of look friends gave each other when they caught a glimpse of something bright again.
Rafe, however, wasn’t amused. He lifted a middle finger, and Kane’s smile brightened as he looked to Florence.
“One sign down,” he said. “The best one, in my opinion.”
Florence’s nose crinkled with a small laugh, and Kane straightened.
That was it for him. That one little laugh and Kane was done for.
Something in his always-hardened face softened that day, and my heart dropped for him.
Thorne saw it, too. He looked at his brother and the grin he managed faltered.
It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—Thorne seeing his brother feel something other than pain and anger.
Kane always joked around, but the way he looked at Florence was how someone looked at a flower in a field of weeds.
He wanted to pluck her, to hold her, and it was there, written on his face like a fucking brand, for half a second.
Half a second was going to get him killed if he wasn’t careful.
Florence didn’t notice, and I wondered what that was like, to live a life where you didn’t notice every time a person expressed hope because life was bright enough that hope was everywhere. I’d felt cruel, insane jealousy. I wanted so badly to know what that was like, to be noticed and cherished.
I bowed my head, massaging my temples as Florence brought Rafe’s hand to her mouth.
She ran through the alphabet, having him repeat the signs back to her.
I peeked over, chewing on my tongue as I watched Rafe fumble through.
He never gained confidence while they ran through various words and commands that would be part of our drills.
He remained closed off, hesitating every time Florence brought his hand back to her mouth.
The hour felt like it went far longer, Thorne and Kane practicing their own signs while I kept my head down.
“We’ll keep trying,” Florence said when we were finally done for the day. She reached for Rafe’s hand, prepared to repeat the words against his fingers, but he pulled away and shouldered past her to leave.
“Don’t mind him. There’s only one person he prefers touching him or vice versa, and she’s right there,” Kane said, nodding toward me.
I frowned, standing from my chair. I didn’t like the way he said it, like I was Rafe’s pet. “Fuck off,” I muttered, making my way to where the soldiers waited to escort us, Rafe already gone back to our cell.
But Florence hesitated. “Arden, wait.”
Thorne’s knuckles brushed mine as he and Kane passed me. He gave me a pointed look to play nice and the brothers left.
“What?” I asked, turning back to her.
Florence cleared her throat. “Was that true? Does Rafe actually listen to you?”
I folded my arms. “He listens just fine to everyone. He’s only a little more comfortable with me because we were raised by the same asshole.”
“But weren’t Thorne and Kane, too?” she asked. She didn’t sound hard. She genuinely sounded curious.
I forced myself to let go of some of my bitterness. It wasn’t right how I felt about her. I guess it’d just been so long since I interacted with anyone outside of Creed and the people breaking us. I swallowed. “Yeah, they were.”
“Arden,” she said gently, her heels clicking as she approached me.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if that man can learn better from you, then it will speed all of this up, okay?
He’s embarrassed, doing it here in front of all of us, but he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to keep protecting you. ”
I stared at her. “You mean all of us.”
“No,” she said simply. “I mean you. I’ve stood at the front of this room for over a month, and it’s almost like you all avoid looking directly in each other’s directions.
Like you’re afraid too. The only one who ever does is Rafe, and he’s always looking at you.
” She wet her lips, hesitating again when my fists curled.
“I know I don’t know you, that I have no right to assume anything about any of you, but he needs you.
I only have a week left, Arden, before Halden takes what he wants.
Rafe needs to be better at listening by then, and that’s not going to happen if he keeps resisting instruction. ”
“Okay,” I said, grinding my teeth. “Anything else?”