Chapter 6 - Nora #2
The bed is comfortable. The room is quiet. I should be exhausted. I am exhausted. But sleep feels impossible when my heart won't stop racing. When every sound makes me think Castellano's men have found us again.
"You okay?" Marcus's voice cuts through the darkness.
Of course he's awake.
"Can't sleep," I admit. "Sorry. I'm trying not to… I don't want to keep you up."
"I'm already up."
"You should rest. You fought three men tonight. You must be—"
"I'm fine." A pause. "And I don't sleep much anyway."
The nightmares. He mentioned them before. PTSD that wakes him up swinging.
"How long have you been awake?" I ask.
"Since we got here."
"Marcus, that was—" I check the clock on the nightstand. "An hour ago. You need to sleep."
"I will. Eventually." I hear him shift in the chair. "Right now, I'm making sure you're safe."
Always protecting. Always watching. Like he doesn't know how to do anything else.
"Can I ask you something?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
"Yeah."
I sit up. Can barely make out his silhouette against the wall in the dim light from under the door. He's still in the same position: arms crossed, alert. Like he's on guard duty.
Maybe he is.
"Do you—" I stop. Start again. "Do you have a troubled relationship with your parents? Like I do?"
"Don't have a relationship with them at all."
"You mean you don't talk to them or—"
"Never met them." His voice is flat. Empty of emotion. "I'm an orphan. My brother too. We grew up in the system. Foster homes, group homes, whatever would take us. Never knew our parents. Don't know if they're alive or dead. Don't particularly care."
Oh.
Oh god.
And here I am complaining about parents who at least existed. Who were there even if they were terrible.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have assumed—"
"Don't apologize." He sounds tired suddenly. Not physically. Deeper than that. "You asked a question. I answered it. That's not something to be sorry for."
"Still. My parents were awful but at least I had them. You and your brother—"
"We had each other." He cuts me off gently. "That was enough. Is enough."
I think about that. About two boys growing up with nothing except each other. No parents. No stability. Just survival.
"Is that why you're so protective of him?" I ask. "Your brother?"
"Yeah." No hesitation. "He's all I've got. All I've ever had that matters. I'd burn the world down before I let anything happen to him."
The certainty in his voice makes my chest tight. That kind of loyalty. That kind of love. I've never had that. Never had anyone who'd choose me first. Who'd fight for me like that.
Until now, maybe.
The thought is dangerous. Presumptuous. Marcus is helping me because it's the right thing to do. Because men were hunting me and he couldn't walk away. Not because—
Not because I'm special to him.
"What about you?" Marcus asks, pulling me from the spiral. "Your parents. What made that relationship troubled?"
I laugh. It comes out bitter. "Where do I start?"
"Wherever you want."
I pull my knees to my chest. Wrap my arms around them. It's easier to talk in the dark. Easier when I can't see his face. Can't see pity or judgment or whatever reaction he might have.
"They never wanted me," I whisper. "Not really.
They wanted my sister. She was and is everything they dreamed of.
Pretty, thin, charming. She could walk into a room and people would notice.
Would want to know her. I was just there.
The disappointing second daughter who wasn't pretty enough or special enough or anything enough. "
"That's their problem. Not yours."
"You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." His voice is firm. Absolute. "Parents who make their kids feel like they're not enough? That's on the parents. Every time."
I rest my chin on my knees. "They told me I should be grateful. When Castellano chose me. They said a man like him—rich, powerful, connected would never normally look at someone like me. That I was lucky. That I should take what I was offered and be happy."
"What did they get out of it?" Marcus asks. "Just money?"
"A lot of it. Enough to pay off their debts. Buy a bigger house. Send my sister to the college she wanted." The bitterness creeps back into my voice. "I was a mere transaction. A way to solve their problems and elevate their status. What I wanted didn't matter."
"You told them no."
"I begged them." The memory makes my throat tight. "I got on my knees and begged. Told them I didn't want to marry him. That he scared me. That I'd rather do anything else like work three jobs, live in a car, I didn't care. Just please don't make me do this."
"They didn't listen."
"They called me ungrateful. Selfish. Said I was throwing away the only good thing that would ever happen to me." I swallow hard. "My sister said I was being dramatic. That plenty of women would kill for the opportunity I had."
Marcus makes a sound. Low and dangerous. "Your family is full of terrible people."
"Yeah." I wipe at my eyes. When did I start crying? "They are."
"You deserve better."
"I don't know what I deserve anymore." The words crack. "I just know I couldn't… I couldn't marry him. Couldn't spend the rest of my life with a man who looked at me like I was property he'd purchased. So, I ran."
"That took courage."
"Or stupidity. I'm still not sure which."
"Courage," Marcus says firmly. "Running when you're scared, when you have no plan, when everyone you've ever known is telling you you're wrong? That's courage, Nora. Don't let anyone tell you different."
A sob catches in my throat. I press my hand over my mouth to muffle it.
No one's ever—
No one's ever called me courageous before.
"Hey." Marcus's voice is closer suddenly. I hear him move. Feel the bed dip as he sits on the edge. "You're okay. You're safe."
"I'm sorry." The words come out muffled. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be—"
"Stop apologizing for feeling things." His hand finds my shoulder. Warm. Solid. Real. "You've been through hell. You're allowed to break down."
"I don't want to break down. I want to be—" I don't even know. Strong? Brave? Someone worth protecting?
"You want to be what?"
"Someone who doesn't need saving."
Marcus is quiet for a moment. His hand is still on my shoulder. Grounding.
"Everyone needs saving sometimes," he says finally. "Doesn't make you weak. Makes you human."
"Do you need saving?" I ask. "Ever?"
"Yeah." He says it so simply. "Every time I close my eyes and the nightmares start.
Every time the buzzing gets so loud I can't think.
Every time I step into the Pit because it's the only place the noise stops.
" He pauses. "My brother saves me from that.
Rampage, the other fighters, they save me by giving me a place where being broken is useful. "
I look at him. Can barely make out his face in the darkness but I see enough. The shadows under his eyes. The tension in his jaw. The weight he carries that nobody else can see.
"You're not broken," I whisper.
"Yeah, I am. But so are you. Doesn't mean we're not worth saving."
We. Again.
Like we're in this together. Like I'm not alone anymore.
"Thank you," I say again. "For everything. For being here. For protecting me. For making me feel like maybe I'm not—"
"Not what?"
"Not nothing."
His hand tightens on my shoulder. "You're not nothing, Nora. You never were."
For the first time in my life, when someone says I matter,
I believe them.