Choice
Aviana
Why does this feel so good? It’s not supposed to, is it? This isn’t right. It’s like he’s messing with my head, pulling strings I didn’t even know were there. I can’t let this happen. I need to distract myself, think of something—anything—so he doesn’t catch on, doesn’t expect anything from me. What am I doing? This isn’t the plan.
***
Past
Age 12
I’ve been doing everything I can to stay close to Eloise since the last encounter with Maverick—helping with the younger boys, cooking, cleaning, keeping myself busy so my mind doesn’t wander. He hasn’t tried anything since that night months ago, but the tension still lingers. After dinner that evening, I woke up covered in blood, shaking and crying. Brynn tried to calm me, rushing to get Eloise. That’s when I learned from them both—it was just my period.
Not long after my birthday, Eloise told me she was taking me to a female doctor. I fought it at first. I didn’t want them to know what had happened with Mr. Widlow, didn’t want them to see what was broken in me. But Eloise kept asking, kept pressing, so I finally gave in.
At the doctor’s office, Eloise asked about putting me on birth control. With the older boy in the house and everything else— hormones, periods, all of it—I had no real guidance. No other parent to tell me if it was right or wrong. So I said yes.
** *
“Little Bird, where did you go?” His voice slices through my thoughts, cold and distant, pulling me back into the nightmare. A wave of dread crashes over me, but I refuse to let it consume me. The feather hovers too close for comfort, brushing dangerously near parts of me I don’t want him touching, especially not like this. The heat of the day has left me barely dressed, vulnerable, but I will not give him the power.
“Obviously, I didn’t go anywhere,” I snap, the sarcasm coating my words like a shield I’m desperately trying to put up. “I can’t, being that you have me tied up,” I add, my voice cracking slightly.
Nightshade jerks my hands roughly, the leather restraints biting into my wrists, and a sharp sting shoots through my skin. “Watch your mouth, Little Bird. That’ll get you into trouble.” His words are a warning, but they’re empty, cold.
I look directly at him, my eyes unwavering despite the threat in his words. “I’m not afraid of you,” I say, the words slow and deliberate, as I focus on the control I have over my own mind, my own body. His proximity, his power over me, doesn’t mean I’m powerless.
I can smell him now—the leather, the spice, all of it too familiar. It clings to the air, suffocating me, pulling me back to a time I wish I could forget. The scent wraps around me like a forgotten ghost, a memory just out of reach, one I can’t fully place. But I know it’s there, lingering, dredging up the image of two boys I wish would stay buried in the past. Their faces, their voices, their touch—all of it tangled in the haze of things I never wanted to remember. But the smell… it brings it all rushing back, and I can’t escape it.
The weight of exhaustion hits me like a tidal wave. I just want to go back to the cabin, feel the warmth of the bed again, and wake up in peace. I want to find Cade, tell him everything about this sick freak. He promised to keep me safe. Where is he now? Why isn’t he here?
“Can I ask you something, Little Bird?” the question hanging between us like a noose.
“What?” I reply quickly, unwilling to risk whatever he might throw at me. I can’t.
His smirk is sharp, cruel. “What else did Maverick do to you?” The words hit me like a slap to the face, and for a moment, I’m stunned, my heart racing. How does he know about Maverick? The question pulses in my mind, but I push it away, too afraid of the answer. The thought alone sends a rush of shame, anger, and fear spiraling through me, each emotion twisting inside me, threatening to break free.
“Why do you care?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel, but there’s an edge to it. It’s a question, a defense, but also a way to buy myself time. The last thing I want is to open up to him, to let him in and know more than he already does.
I force myself to meet his eyes, trying to hold onto whatever control I still have. “You think you can just dig into my past and… what? Use it against me?”
“I’m not here to use your past against you, Little Bird.” His voice is surprisingly calm, but the weight of his words presses on me. “That’s not what this is about.”
He leans back, his dark gaze never leaving mine.
“I’m here to help you control it,” he continues, his voice lower now, almost gentle. “The fear those memories put on you, the way they take hold and cripple you— that is what I’m after. I want to teach you how to hold them, how to make them nothing more than echoes. So they don’t control you anymore.”
His words wrap around me like a heavy fog, and I feel something shift deep inside me. A small part of me—one I’m not ready to acknowledge—wants to believe him. One that knows I should believe him.
“I won’t use them against you,” he repeats, his voice firm. “But you need to face them, Little Bird. You need to learn how to breathe through the panic, how to push the fear away.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You think you’re strong enough for that? ”
He watches me closely, waiting for some sign of hesitation, but I don’t flinch. His eyes narrow slightly, then as I nod, he steps forward and reaches for the restraints.
The leather digs into my skin, the rawness of the restraint still fresh in my mind, but I don’t stop him. As his fingers work the buckles, the tension in the room shifts, and I realize what he’s doing.
He’s giving me a choice.