Page 131 of I Never Stopped Loving You

“Willow,” Noah’s voice pulls me back as strong arms wrap around me crushing me to his chest.

The folder drops to the ground scattering the photos everywhere as my body collapses against his. My broken sobs and screams echo through the house. I can feel my shirt is soaked in sweat and tears. How long have I been crying?

I can feel him holding me tightly as he lowers us to the floor and pulls me onto his lap. He rests my head against his chest as I let my body melt into his protective embrace.

“Shh. I’ve got you, Willow. I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.”

He repeats these words over and over to me. He kisses the top of my head as he runs his fingers through my damp hair trying to keep me here with him, but I can feel myself fading into the darkness. It’s too much. The memories are too much. They hurt too fucking bad.

“Noah, I…”

“Shhh. Don’t talk. Just breathe, Willow. I’m here.”

His strong hand runs down my back then rubs circles as my sobs start to go silent. My tears have stopped, and I can tell from the feeling against my face that I’ve completely soaked his shirt.

I let all control go as Noah picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. I don’t fight him, protest, or even bring up the fact that he shouldn’t be lifting me because right now I can’t even breathe, let alone speak.

It feels like the world is closing in around me. My therapist warned me that trying to uncover my memories could have negative effects. Long-buried emotions could resurface. Fear and the pain from that night could come rushing back, and that’s exactly what happened.

Looking at those photos brought me right back to when I started studying law. It was when I had one of the worst mental breakdowns I’ve ever suffered. I looked up my mother’s crime scene in the national database. The case had gone cold because my father was never found, so the files weren’t confidential anymore.

I was thankfully in my apartment and not the school library. My roommate at the time heard me screaming and rushed in. She said she couldn’t get me to stop screaming and crying. She ended up calling 911, and the ambulance took me to the hospital where I was admitted for a twenty-four-hour mandatory psych hold.

I was evaluated by the hospital's psychologist while I was there, who then referred me to a therapist, and I have been with her ever since. She’s one of the only people still alive who knows everything about who I am and what happened in my past…At least the stuff I could remember.

“Willow, can you hear me?” Noah’s voice whispers against my head.

We’re in his front room sitting on his couch. I’m practically curled into a ball on his lap with my head against his chest and my hands grasping tightly onto his shirt.

“Willow, please say something.”

“I’m…okay.” My voice sounds foreign.

Oh God. He’s never going to want me on their team now that he saw what some crime scene photos did to me. One look at those photos and all I could see was my mom curled up on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood.

“What happened? Where’s Jeremy?” he asks softly.

“He went to my place to see Jenna. He…left the file on the desk and I thought…I was planning on telling you I wanted to accept the job, but,” my voice cracks, and I stop.

“But what, Willow?”

“I opened the file and…”

I can’t say it. I can’t.

“I need to go,” I rush out as I try to stand.

“What? It’s late. You’re not going anywhere,” he protests as he tries to hold onto me.

“Please, Noah. I have to do something.”

I need to go to that fucking house and destroy it. It’s winter. Everything is dry and dead. The house is old as fuck and will easily go up in flames with just a bit of accelerant. Maybe if I do this, I can finally move on with my life. I can let it all go. I can stop feeling like I have to watch over my shoulder. Afraid of the boogeyman that haunts my nightmares.

“What do you have to do, Willow?” he asks firmly.

“I just need to go somewhere. Please, Noah. I’ll call Jeremy. He said he’d come back if I needed him to. There’s just something I need to take care of.”

“Whatever it is, I’m going with you.”