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Francis looks as if he wants to argue but his face softens. "Okay, miss."
I set the sponge down in the bucket, straddling Atticus who immediately thrashes. "Atticus, I need to give you this medicine."
His eyes open slightly, and I use that chance to put the crushed pills in his mouth. He swallows them dry, his eyes panicked as he looks at me.
"Constance, no matter what you hear or what you see, you have to run. Run and never look back. I'll find you; I promise."
And then he passes out.
The words pull at something in my mind, but I can’t grasp it. I repeat the words in my head as I lay next to him, checking his fever until my eyes are so heavy I can't keep them open anymore.
I've heard those words and yet, I can’t remember where it's from.
Chapter 22
I’m notsure if I died and went to hell the last several days. If hell was tailor made for me, it would be my memories holding me hostage. My body ached, and I could only catch glimpses of my Little Bird. Her face marred, worry dulling her eyes. But I couldn’t reach her. Not until today.
My eyes open fully for the first time. A small hand on my forehead as a tiny weight hugs around me. I can smell her allover me. As if she has mixed our scent into one. I brush her hand away from my face, slowly untangling myself from her. She huffs, stretching before rolling the other way.
I smell awful, probably look like hell as well. So, I head to the en suite bathroom and start the shower.
I replay the memories as I wash the sickness and sweat away. The hell of my childhood slamming back into me at full force. The rapes, Ma'am. All of it. There is no way, in all the days I was barely here, did I not let something slip.
I rest my head on the tile. I just need to figure out how much of that she heard.
When I returnto the room, fully dressed, I find Constance sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at her feet. "Are you better?" She asks.
I push my shoulders back, ready to put her back in her place but then she looks up, eyes shining and it does something to me. Breaks a little piece off inside me. "Why are you crying?"
She sniffs, wiping under her eyes. "You scared me. I was afraid you'd die and there was nothing I could do to help you. Nothing. I couldn't call a doctor, couldn't make you lucid. I..." Her voice breaks off and I want to hold her, but holding her would give her the wrong idea.
"I'm fine."
"Are you? The things you said... I don't think you're okay, Atticus."
I stiffen, putting my walls back up. "It doesn't matter what I said. Forget it."
She stands, small fist curled and ready for a fight. "It does matter! I can never forget!" She screams.
"What is it you want me to say? You want me to tell you about the amount of people I've been forced to rape? How I was sold as some sort of sex slave? I'm a fucking man." I hit my chest. "My trauma is in the past. It doesn't fucking matter." I walk to her, gripping her face to look at me, my eyes clashing with hers. "Do you hear me? It doesn't matter."
"You matter."
All I can do is kiss her. I just want her to shut up. To stop normalizing me and making some sick twisted fantasy out of us.
She pulls back, her hands cupping my face. "Being a man has nothing to do with trauma. It doesn't make you less of a man that you have some. We all do. But you matter to me, Atticus."
"Shut up," I hiss.
"No." She kisses me softly. "I won't stop until you realize that it does matter, you matter."
But I couldn't listen to her anymore.
I gripped her neck lightly, walking her to the door, and slamming it in her face.
And then, I destroyed everything in my vicinity.
Chapter 23
