CHAPTER 06 - Noah Black
Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me,
but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid
Because of you – Kelly Clarkson
I come down the stairs, exhaustion weighing on my body and mind.
All I want is to be in bed, trying to sleep, but staying there isn’t an option—it’s already six o’clock.
The sacred hour of family breakfast.
Family.
Another word that seems to mock me whenever it crosses my mind.
Gavin is already seated at the head of the table, looking like he owns the world.
Sarah, who should hold the title of mother but doesn’t deserve it, sits to his right.
Across from her sits the only spark of life in this house: Sadie.
I walk into the dining room and they notice me immediately.
The man who should be my father looks me up and down, and when his eyes reach my face, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disapproval.
“Didn’t sleep well?” he asks, irritated, as I sit down next to Sadie. “You look terrible, Noah!”
I greet her with a kiss on the cheek and a smile she immediately returns, and only then do I turn my attention to Gavin.
I’m disgusted by the despicable human being that he is.
Repulsed at having to be near him. I dream of the day I can get out of here with Sadie.
To a place where the toxic presence of these two won’t haunt us.
Where we’re not puppets in his hands.
To the world, Gavin Black is an upstanding man, an exemplary patriarch with an impeccable reputation, but within these walls, he’s a sadistic control freak.
His hard face reveals impatience at my lack of response, and the reproachful look he gives me signals he’s about to explode. Not wanting morning drama, I tap twice on the table—no, I didn’t sleep well.
My mother sighs.
She hates that I don’t speak.
Hates it with everything inside her.
And she’s punished me more times than I can count for refusing to give in when she demands I speak like I used to.
“I think we need to adjust her sleep medication,” she says, her voice too sweet for the venom dripping from every word.
I grit my teeth, trying to control my irritation.
If it were up to them, I’d live doped up like a zombie.
And I’m sure the only reason they don’t is because someone still needs to take care of Sadie.
I tap twice on the table, harder this time, and they fix me with stern looks.
I take a deep breath and look at my butterfly, who, as if sensing she’d need to intervene, is already staring back at me.
You don’t need to increase it. I just didn’t sleep well because I had a nightmare.
“She had a nightmare,” Sadie relays. “She doesn’t need more medicine.”
I hate having to drag her into these discussions, but my parents didn’t have the decency to learn sign language. Deep down, I’m even glad they refused, because it means I’m not forced to communicate with either of them beyond what’s absolutely necessary.
“I hope you look better tomorrow, otherwise I’ll increase the dose,” he threatens, and I nod—not because I agree, but simply because I don’t want to prolong the conversation.
If he knew my insomnia had a name—Bryan Trevor—he wouldn’t just increase the dose. He’d commit me to that psychiatric ward again.
Just remembering makes my stomach turn.
That place was a test of sanity.
No one could get better in a white, sterile, empty, silent room.
I lost all sense of time in there.
I couldn’t tell day from night.
I had no idea anymore what was real and what was just in my head, and to this day I can still feel the pain of those endless needle pricks.
Sometimes I’d wake up with my arm bruised, and it hurt just to move it.
On other days—the ones when I tried to escape—they’d hold me down until they managed to knock me out.
I shudder just imagining myself in that hell again.
I shake my head, chasing away the memories, and only manage to because Greta approaches with a friendly smile and a steaming mug of chocolate coffee.
The only vice I have, and one more thing for my parents to criticize.
I thank her with a nod and she moves away—she’s forbidden from lingering when we’re eating.
“We need to find a new homeschool teacher for Sadie,” my mother comments as I raise the mug to my lips. “The last one got sick and won’t be coming back.”
“This city is full of useless people,” Gavin grumbles with contempt. “I'll bring someone from the capital and have them stay the whole week, since it's almost a four-hour drive.”
“It needs to be someone trustworthy,” she says, and he turns toward her with a look that would make anyone shrink back.
“Do I need to remind you who's in charge here?” he snarls, his voice low but threatening. “Have I ever brought someone who wasn't trustworthy, Sarah? Have you ever had to think for yourself in your life?”
“N-no...” she stammers, shrinking in her chair. “I just meant that...”
“You don't say anything,” he cuts her off, practically shouting, and I feel Sadie's hand squeeze my thigh under the table.
“You listen and obey because in this house I'm the one who makes the decisions,” he hisses, and she nods.
“Let's pray,” he declares, looking at us as if he hadn't just been a complete bastard.
Hypocrisy.
They talk about faith but use religion only when it suits them.
They preach obedience but wield it as a tool of control and fear.
They call themselves servants of a God of love but love only themselves.
They disguise cruelty as care and call oppression protection.
Lord, purify this house.
Eliminate rebellion with the force of your command.
May each member of this family recognize their proper place
and may obedience be the pillar of our salvation.
“Amen,” everyone says in unison, and I just nod, pretending I prayed, pretending I still believe.
There was a time when I truly believed in the teachings they drilled into me, but everything went to hell these past few years.
He stands up and, without a word, storms out.
The front door slams, and the air seems to get a little lighter.
I hope his car flips on the way to the distribution center.
That's my thought every day when he leaves the house.
It's almost like my own prayer.
I hope he never comes back, because escaping my mother would be easier.
She gets up too, but unlike him, she looks at us.
It's not an affectionate look, a mother's look.
It's a look of disgust.
“Sadie, go to the library and copy the verse I left on the table a hundred times, and if you make a single mistake, tear up the page and start all over again.” My butterfly nods as she finishes eating, and the witch turns to me.
“Go to your room and finish reading the doctrines I gave you at the beginning of the week, or you'll go without dinner,” she orders, already turning away.
Soon I hear her heels echoing on the polished floor as she walks away from us.
Sarah always leaves as soon as Gavin leaves the table.
“Why is she so mean?” Sadie asks, and I see her eyes well up. “Aren't mommies supposed to be nice?”
I lift her chin, wiping away a solitary tear.
I don't know, my love, but it's not our fault, okay? I don't want to see you sad. Besides, she'll go to work soon, and then we'll play in the garden.
A small smile breaks through the sadness on her face, and she goes back to eating.
“Is the hunter coming today?” she murmurs, and I furrow my brow. “Of monsters and witches,” she continues when she sees my confusion, and only then do I understand her words.
Bryan...
It's still so surreal that he's alive that for a few minutes after waking up, I thought it had all been a dream.
But it was real.
He's not only alive—he was in my room, in my arms, and he met my girl.
I think it's better if he doesn't come because if Daddy finds out, he'll hurt all three of us.
“If the friend hunts the monster, there won't be anyone to hurt us,” she counters, full of hope, as if Bryan were a superhero.
Let's finish breakfast, and then I'll see about that.
I sign back and return to eating, even though my hunger has vanished. I need to make her forget everything that happened and erase any trace of hope, because having Bryan in our lives is impossible.
I can't risk her life because of what still pulses inside me.
I can't put my feelings above her safety.
If my parents find out he's alive, that he came into this house, they won't just hurt me.
They'll use Sadie to punish me, to torture me, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to her.
When we finish, I stand up and scoop her into my arms. She lets out a little laugh when I start tickling her belly, and the sweet sound of her laughter warms my heart.
I head to the library, savoring our moment, and as soon as I approach, I see Greta waiting for us.
“Go finish your reading. I'll stay with her,” she offers, and I nod, smiling.
“You'll come back later to play?” Sadie asks, going into Greta's arms without hesitation.
Of course I'll come back.
I answer with more tickles, and only when the two of them head inside do I turn and make my way back through the living room.
I hear the car start outside and know it's Sarah heading to the distribution center. Just like every morning, I let out a sigh of relief.
I climb the stairs slowly, putting off the torture of that unbearable book, but soon enough I'm in my room.
I grab the book from the nightstand, but before I can get back to reading, I hear a noise from the closet.
When I turn, my heart races—Bryan is leaning against the door, even more handsome than he was earlier.
The light streaming through the window highlights his dark blond hair, which—unlike earlier—is now perfectly styled. I feel an overwhelming urge to run my fingers through it, the way I used to when he'd lie with his head in my lap.
God, how I miss him, miss us.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he says, approaching the bedroom door and locking it the way I did earlier.
My body freezes, and I don't know if it's fear, shock, or desperation—maybe all three. Still, I force myself to snap out of it and look around for paper and a pen, but I find nothing except the book.
There's no way I can write in it—Sarah would find out.
I sigh and turn my attention back to him just as he holds out a phone toward me.
“You can answer me by typing,” he says gently, and when I take it, it's already open to the messages app.
You can't come in here. It's dangerous.
I show him the screen, and he shakes his head with a mocking smile.
“They won't find out I'm here. It's impossible.”
No, it's not, Bryan. I need you to leave.
I show him again, my eyes pleading with him to listen so we don't end up in trouble.
“Noah…” I shake my head. “Just listen to me for a bit.”
You don't understand. They'll hurt Sadie.
“I won't let that happen,” he counters quickly but quietly, moving a little closer. “I'm going to stay in town for a while, but I'll do everything I can to make sure no one finds out I'm here.”
That's impossible. News travels fast, and even if you stay on the other side of town, eventually someone will recognize you and word will get back to Gavin.
“I doubt it,” he says firmly. “I weighed at least twenty pounds less back then, had no muscles, and my body wasn't covered in tattoos.” I try not to stare too much.
He really does look completely different.
“If I need to, I'll wear a wig, put in contacts.
I'll even have someone I trust do my shopping.”
Why are you staying in town? What do you plan to do?
“I want to know what happened to you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, and my heart aches. “I want to get you out of this house.”
That's not possible.
I type frantically.
“I want to get to know you again,” he continues, moving closer, closing the distance between us. “I want to see the sparkle in your eyes. I want to hear your voice, Butterfly.”
Butterfly.
He still calls me that.
Even though I never really transformed into one.
I turn my face away and take a step back, needing space while I type.
There's nothing beautiful left for you to recognize. There's no sparkle, let alone a voice. Leave town. Go on with your life. You deserve to be happy.
I show him the words, even though they hurt to write.
I'm not lying.
Bryan deserves the whole world, and I can't even cross the front gate.
“You deserve it too,” he retorts after reading my words, and I see his jaw clench.
I shake my head. “I'm not leaving,” he states firmly, and I nearly cry—though I don't know if it's from relief or desperation.
“This phone stays with you.” I shake my head again.
“It's the only way for us to communicate, and for me to know when I can come here without standing out front waiting for those bastards to leave.”
Crazy.
God, he's completely crazy!
They'll kill me if they see this phone.
“Hide it and keep it on silent. My number's the only one in there, and I'll only reach out when you say it's okay,” he continues as if this weren't insane. “In a few hours, I'll find a gap in the mansion's security so I can get in.”
I shake my head once more.
I can't allow this.
“Noah.” His voice breaks a little. “Give me a chance. Just some time. Just a few minutes a day. I promise you with everything I have—your parents will never find out I'm alive. I swear I'd never let anything happen to you or Sadie.”
I look at the phone in my trembling hands, then fix my eyes on his again.
It’s crazy.
Completely insane and risky, but there’s so much longing built up inside me, so many empty spaces and unanswered questions that I just can’t say no. I nod and start typing on the phone.
How did you survive and still make him believe you were dead?
I type and he reads the message, but before he can respond, his phone rings. He quickly presses a button to silence it.
“I have to go now because I need to arrange Lilian’s trip,” he says, and I look at him in confusion. “She’s going to Las Vegas for treatment, and Luke will take care of her while I’m here.”
Las Vegas.
The city that never sleeps.
The city where we planned to live someday.
I blink slowly as memories of us planning our future wash over me.
I wanted the chaos.
I wanted the neon lights that never go out.
The noisy crowds, the streets packed with voices, music, and laughter.
I wanted to see the chapels. Get married in them.
I dreamed of this because I spent my entire life locked away and alone.
I dreamed, and like all my other dreams, it was crushed by my father.
I can’t hold back the tear that escapes.
“There’s still a chance for you to fly, Noah, and I’m going to show you that,” he says, and then I feel his lips on my temple.
The gesture is beautiful, but it breaks my heart a little more, and when he pulls away and slips out the window, I let myself collapse.