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“Why?” he asks, searching my gaze. Didn’t I ask the same thing once? “Why would you help me?”
“The cirque is a safe place for everyone. We help as many people as we can. I was like you once. If you let me, Noah, I promise to keep you safe.”
He looks from me to my hand before lifting a shaking limb and laying his tiny hand in mine. I smile encouragingly as I stand and help him to his feet. He wavers, shivering, and I know I need to get him to the doctor.
I tighten my hold on him, feeling the bones under his paper-thin skin. Smiling down at him, I try to fight back my anger so I don’t scare him. “It’s going to be okay.”
It takes us a while to get back, but Noah refuses to let me carry him because he’s worried about my leg. His concern makes me want to cry, but I hold back my tears so I don’t scare him. Once inside the cirque, he seems both lost and awed. I know that feeling, know what it’s like to be faced with something so grand and terrifying all at once. I escort him to my tent and wave down a rigger on the way, asking him to grab Dr. Louis for me.
“Sit, okay?” I point at my bed, and Noah hesitates. “What is it?” I ask.
“I’m dirty,” he whispers, his eyes sad.
“I don’t care about dirt, Noah. Please sit.” I help him onto the bed and sit next to him as the tent flaps part. Noah hides slightly behind me as Dr. Louis enters, and I warn him with my eyes to move slowly.
He nods, getting the message. “And who do we have here?” he asks, setting his bag down before moving closer and crouching.
“This is Noah. Noah, this is Louie, the doctor who helped me.” I nudge him gently as he peeks out.
“Hi,” he croaks.
“It’s nice to meet you, Noah. I’m going to look you over, okay? I can see blood, and I want to make sure nothing gets infected and make you feel better.”
Noah looks up at me, and I nod. Noah copies the movement, and Louie smiles.
“Okay, so let’s get this shirt off.” I slide back and go to stand to give them privacy, but Noah’s hand darts out and grabs mine.
“Stay, please,” he begs, holding my hand tightly, eyeing Louie in fear. Louie turns away, but not before I see the tears in his eyes, and I know the feeling. It’s difficult to be faced with such horrible mistreatment of a child.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. “Can he take a look at you? He fixed my leg, see? He’s really good. I promise.”
Noah nods, and we both sit stiffly as Louie looks him over, dressing his wounds before sitting back. Noah is silent the whole time, but it’s obvious he doesn’t like being touched, and he flinches if Louie moves too quickly. Still, he never once complains about the pain he must be in. His ribs are busted, his back is a mess, his feet are cut so deeply I don’t know how he walked, and that’s just his unhealed injuries. His whole body is scarred, and it’s evident he’s suffered years of abuse.
“You did very well, Noah. I want you to rest now, okay? When you wake, I want you to have little meals often. Your stomach shrank, so anything big will make you sick.”
Noah nods. “I know I get sick if I eat.”
Louie smiles, but it’s tight as he glances at me and nods his head toward the tent opening.
I nod and stand. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
Noah’s eyes widen as he holds my hand with more strength than I thought possible. “Promise?”
“I promise,” I whisper as I wrap my blanket around him. “I’ll just be outside. Shout if you need anything, okay? I’ll come running back.”
He nods, holding the blanket tighter, and I follow Louie out. He rubs his face, looking exhausted. “The kid is malnourished and on death’s door. His body . . . He has more unhealed broken bones and lashings than I’ve ever seen. The scarring on his back, though, I’ve seen it before.”
“What do you mean?” I murmur, not wanting Noah to overhear. It’s clear he’s been through enough.
“A whip. He was whipped,” Louie growls, angry just like me. “He needs rest, food, and love, lots of it. It will be a long time until he trusts anyone, but he seems to feel safe with you. Stay with him. Let him know it’s safe.”
“I will.” I nod. “Thanks, Louie.”
“Sometimes I wonder what the hell this world is coming to,” he mutters as he wanders away.
Me too, I think as I step back into the tent and find Noah already asleep, curled into a tiny ball under the blanket. I head his way and sit heavily, rubbing his back as the cirque pulses inside me, demanding retribution.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. This time, it’s my hunt. This time, I’ll become a nightmare.” Leaning down, I place a soft kiss on Noah’s cheek. “Tell me your nightmares, Noah. Let me face them for you.”
