CHAPTER 26 - Noah Black
We were born to die
Lost, but now I've found myself
I can see that I was blind before
Born to die – Lana Del Rey
TRIGGER WARNING: PHYSICAL ABUSE
An agonizing throb pulses through my head as I sit up and force my eyes open.
I blink over and over, trying to focus on my surroundings, but the throbbing pain wins out on my first few tries.
Still, I take a deep breath and try again.
My eyes protest against the brightness, but gradually they start to adjust.
I look around, and the first thing I notice is that I’m in a white room.
There are two twin beds.
I’m in one of them, and there’s no one in the other.
I try to remember how I ended up here, and the images come rushing back like a flood.
Gavin finding out.
Bryan storming the mansion.
Sadie safe from danger.
A loud sob tears from my throat when I remember that my little girl is no longer under that bastard’s control.
That right now she’s with her father.
Her real father.
The one she should have had since the day she was born.
“AHHHHHHH.”
The first scream comes from the depths of my soul.
It’s liberating.
But I still need more, so I open my mouth and let out another as I lean forward.
Then another, and another, and another.
I dissolve into screams and tears, not caring if anyone hears or punishes me.
I let five years of silence come pouring out.
I let the pain, the anguish, and the fear pour out through screams that echo off the four walls.
I spit out every day I had to swallow like shards of glass.
I allow myself to feel.
I allow myself to remember.
I allow myself to break.
Because I don’t need to stay quiet anymore to save my little girl.
I don’t need to keep silent so she won’t get hurt.
Because now my butterfly is safe.
She’s okay, she’s secure, and that’s all that matters to me.
I bury my face in the mattress and scream again.
I strum the hoarse sounds from my throat as if they were guitar strings.
The first string brings the painful memories of the last few years—the unwanted touches, the nauseating smell, the shattering of what I believed was good, the beatings, the injuries, the torture.
The second comes with rage—for not getting out sooner, for watching my little girl get hurt, for never truly being in control of my own life.
The third resonates with the anguish of knowing I never had a real life, that I was just a puppet for parents who should have cared for me and protected me but were nothing more than two sadists.
The fourth burns with the pain of knowing I have no future with the two people I love most in this world—because there’s no doubt Gavin is going to kill me.
The fifth strikes me with a bittersweet gratitude, because despite everything that happened, I still managed to feel loved, even if only for the briefest moment.
The sixth and final string brings the relief of knowing he’ll take care of her. That he’ll show her the world and give her what she deserves.
Each plucked note ravages me and heals me at the same time.
“She’s okay. She’s free. He saved her,” I murmur to myself, and a fit of coughing overtakes me.
My throat scratches.
Burns.
Begs for water.
When I can no longer bear to speak, can no longer release the pain through words, I allow myself to keep crying.
I let the deluge wash away some of the storm I’ve been trying to hold back.
Because now I have the option to give up.
To stop being strong.
To stop enduring everything.
Because I know he’ll take care of her.
He’ll protect her.
He’ll give her the life I always dreamed of for her.
It’s painful to know I won’t be part of it.
It hurts to know I won’t be there to see her smile as she discovers the most beautiful places in the world.
That I won’t take her to school or hear her laughter in the mornings.
That I won’t tell her bedtime stories.
That she won’t hear my voice telling her I love her every day.
And most of all, what hurts the most: I won’t see her fly.
I won’t see her grow up and emerge from her cocoon.
I won’t be able to show her the world of butterflies I dreamed we’d discover together.
I let the pain of loss tear through my chest.
Bleed my soul.
I wish it were different.
That the drawing would become real.
That together we could build our family.
A real home.
But it's impossible, because if Bryan tries to find me, he'll walk right into a trap.
And I'd rather die than see Sadie go back to Gavin.
Than watch Bryan get hurt.
Between sobs, I let myself mourn the death of something that should have been beautiful.
A story that should have been epic.
And maybe it is—just not in this life.
I don't know how long I spend crying.
I lose track of time—even reality—because when I hear the creak of the door opening, I'm not sure if I just stopped crying or dozed off in the middle of all that pain.
I lift my head and see Gavin walking in.
Fear freezes my bones again, but I don't show any reaction.
He approaches, a cruel smile forming on his lips.
His large, burly body towers over me.
And I feel small.
So small.
A throbbing pain fills my head and I close my eyes.
I see a little girl in bed, scared and crying.
But it's so quick that I wonder if it was a memory or a hallucination.
“I should have killed you that cursed night Sadie was born,” he murmurs, low but threatening. “I should have exterminated your sin, your filth, and your disobedience all at once.”
“And why didn't you?” I dare to ask, and his eyes narrow to cutting slits.
“Because it would put my reputation at risk. Because that bastard had just killed your uncle and it was already hard enough to cover up one death. Two would have been almost impossible!”
“Your mistake,” I say, and in one quick movement, he grabs my arm. “Let me go!!”
“You think you won, don't you? But you're trapped here at the end of the world, where no one will find you, where he won't come to save you!”
“I don't want him to come,” I spit with contempt. “By now he's far away with our girl. And as far as I know, he has evidence against you.” The grip tightens on my arm. “He's going to destroy you, and even if I'm not alive to see it happen, I'm already happy.”
In a burst of rage, I spit in his face and he immediately releases me.
Regret hits the moment I see his hand rise to wipe the saliva from his cheek.
I take a step back, trying to gain space and time to brace myself for what's coming when he looks at me.
With bitter hatred in his eyes, he removes his belt.
The movement is unhurried.
I shudder as another flash overtakes me.
“It's for your own good, my sweetheart. It's to save you.”
The repugnant voice echoes like a refrain from the back of my mind.
Gavin approaches, and when he raises the belt, my body feels the pain before the first crack.
There's no time to think, react, or defend myself, because he brings the leather down hard.
My skin burns.
And the burning intensifies when he repeats the movement.
“Never dare to defy me again,” he orders before bringing the belt down once more on my skin. “You think you're somebody?” Another strike and I curl up in pain. “You're just an ungrateful slut,” he shouts, and the impact tears into my arm.
I lose my balance and collapse to the floor, but he doesn't stop.
He intensifies the assault.
He whips my body while making sure I know he's the one in charge.
His words get lost in the flood of pain.
I let my mind slip away to the place where I always hid when he beat me.
The dark hole where I learned to bury the scream.
Still, each blow reaches me.
Somewhere, I'm bleeding.
Somewhere else, my skin burns raw.
When he finally tires and steps away, his figure appears blurred through the tears I can't hold back.
“You disgust me, but I know Tilden will love knowing you're here, available for whatever he wants,” he says, spitting on me, returning my gesture. “I'm going to make you regret everything, Noah, and I won't end your life until you witness what I plan to do to your little girl and that human trash.”
He laughs—a hollow sound with no humor at all.
The door closes with a snap and my body slides the rest of the way to the floor.
My skin burns like hell, but getting up is even more unbearable, so I just close my eyes and pray I won't wake up again.
I won't be a bargaining chip.
I won't bring my girl to this monster.
My body aches and every bone feels like it's been broken.
My temple throbs as if someone were hammering it nonstop.
And when I open my eyes, I realize I’m not alone.
I try to sit up, but the pain is so excruciating I curl into myself with a groan.
“Let me help you.” A sweet voice breaks the silence.
I look up and see her approaching.
The girl crouches in front of me and gives me a shy smile.
She holds out her hand, and even though I’m hesitant, I take it.
Carefully, she helps me to my feet, and my body trembles from even that small effort.
The stranger guides me to the bed and carefully helps me sit down.
“Than… Thank you,” I manage to murmur, my throat dry. “Who are you?”
“Brittany,” she replies, returning to the bed beside mine.
She’s as young as I am.
Her blonde hair is parted down the middle, braided on each side.
I notice she has marks on her arms and neck.
Bruises from beatings.
I recognize them because I’ve seen them on myself countless times.
“I’m Noah. Where are we?” I ask, still getting used to the sound of my own voice.
“When they brought me here, I was passed out, so I have no idea where we are, but I know we’re at the Redoubt.”
“And what’s the Redoubt?”
“It’s like a headquarters, a congregation,” she explains, and my expression must give away my confusion. “Primordial House—have you heard of it?”
The name stirs echoes of old conversations, mentions at the breakfast table, but I’m not sure.
“I think so, but I have no idea what it is,” I admit.
“Primordial House is the religion we were raised in,” she begins, and I listen closely. “Its doctrine always taught us to worship God and make sacrifices for salvation.”
“Where does Gavin fit into all this?”
“A Mentor, just like my father,” she continues with unsettling ease. “Didn’t he teach you all this growing up?”