Chapter 2 #2
I turn to the guys, who are all now standing in front of me.
It’s intimidating as hell, but they need to know what they’re potentially going to be dealing with.
“I only tell you this because these children will probably see you similar to me, as adults and caregivers, and that comes with certain…issues and responsibilities.” Taking a deep breath, I continue.
“Anna was found near starved to death, clutching her dead baby brother. They’d estimated he’d been dead for a few days.
” Anatole hisses while Nox curses. “She’s fiercely protective of the other kids, and can challenge adults because she doesn’t trust lightly.
” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Mitchel hasn’t spoken since he arrived here nearly two years ago.
No one knows exactly what happened to him, only that he was found locked in a cupboard under the stairs in his grandmother’s house.
He’s wary, hypervigilant, and under no circumstances do you raise your voice around him, okay?
” They each give me a sharp nod. “Let’s see, Sally, you know about her cutting.
She has other scars, scars her drugged-up mother caused when she tried to cut the evil from her.
” My gaze darts to Steele, whose jaw is clenched so tightly I’m worried he’ll crack a tooth.
But I go on, needing to get it out at once because if I stop, it’ll overwhelm me and I can’t break down right now.
There’s too much to do. “Noah has also suffered physical abuse; he flinches at raised hands and has terrible nightmares that cause bedwetting. Peggy is our youngest at five, and her mum is seventeen, just a child herself, really. We’re working with her, helping her sort herself so that next year she can take Peggy home with her.
” I swallow hard, having left the most difficult story for last because it hurts so much.
“Rachel,” I swallow hard, tears filling my eyes because how can they not when I think about her.
“Rachel’s uncle was convicted of multiple counts of rape and sexual abuse of a minor.
She’d been living with him for six years.
She’s just turned twelve and arrived with us a month ago. ”
“Hey,” Steele’s ocean-deep voice filters in, a touch on my cheek causing me to blink and feel the burning path of tears on my cheeks. “She’s okay now. They all are, thanks to you.”
His dark eyes anchor me, his fingers brushing my tears away, his huge hand cupping my trembling cheek.
“But they never should have had to suffer like that. Why are there such awful people in the world?” My voice breaks on the last word, the tears streaming faster and like a river; I’m unable to stop them.
“I don’t know, sweet one,” he whispers, his own eyes full of pain.
“Miss. Blossom? Are you okay?” Noah’s voice sounds from the doorway, and taking a deep inhale, I turn. The rich umber skin of his forehead is creased. “Just a little sad, Noah. But thank you for asking, darling.”
“Would, um, would a hug help?” he tentatively asks, and my eyes burn with how far this child has come from when he first came to us last year.
“A hug would help immensely, Noah, thank you,” I reply thickly, opening my arms and waiting for him to come to me. A breath leaves me as his small arms wrap around my body, my own coming up gently to encircle him.
“SWEETER PLACE” BY SVRCINA
STEELE
I stare down at Blossom as she hugs the boy not much older than Jus — Noah — her tears drying on my fingertips, and my mind races. She didn’t even flinch when I touched her, which was impossible not to do when her sadness spilled over onto those pretty porcelain cheeks.
And she’s more than pretty; she’s stunning, inside and out. Her skin is fair, the kind that hides nothing — the pink high on her cheeks, the blotchy warmth spreading down her throat as she cries, everything she feels written right there on her.
Everything I’ve seen of her since she blew into this mansion like a spring breeze has challenged my long-held beliefs about this world.
And the fact that not once has she looked at us with fear or disgust. Not once has she treated us any less than equals, which in my experience is rare, especially from rich white people.
Since we’ve arrived she’s shown us how she cares for others, and given her emotional reaction to these poor kids’ stories, I have to wonder if she always puts others first. Who looks after her while she looks after those of us who are broken by the world?
I glance at Anatole, at Nox, my brothers in all but blood.
We’re no strangers to tragic childhoods, having experienced our own horrors and those of the children around us while we were in the system.
A system that usually takes more than it gives, in my experience anyway.
They have the same look of shocked awe in their eyes as they look up at this remarkable woman.