Page 111 of Nyx

Do the people who know my story look at me with pity? Is that how Cerberus sees me? How he sees me?

I shake my head, trying to clear it of the voice that tells me they're doing too much, that I'm not worth the trouble.

I can never tell if those voices are mine or if they're remnants of what's left behind from the years of verbal and emotional abuse I suffered with Graham. I may never know.

"You're worthy of protection," I whisper to my reflection, staring at myself longer as if it will help the words turn into belief. "You deserve to be safe, no matter what it takes."

I swallow, the burn of tears growing behind my eyes, but instead of getting angry or wiping them away in an attempt to be strong, I let them fall.

Each tear represents a regret I can no longer change.

Thinking about making different choices will never change the way things have played out in my life.

Hoping that things will get better, that there will come a day when I can smile and be happy, waking up every morning knowing that I'm safe doesn't make it happen.

I'm not weak for accepting help when it's offered, no matter how it makes me feel inside.

Deep down, I know I'm worthy of good things.

I also know there may not be enough time left in my life to see any of that come to fruition.

I open my eyes and give the mirror one last look.

I can't stop the fear from building inside of me.

I can't control what Graham will do next.

What is within my power is to go let Nyx into the apartment and eat a cheeseburger with someone who has vowed to keep me safe.

I leave the bathroom and walk to the front door, standing on the tips of my toes to peek out the peephole. When I determine it's him standing on the front porch, I reach for the lock.

Then a shadow approaches, my heart racing, and that sense of fight-or-flight almost takes over before I realize it's our food delivery.

"This goes to the guy sitting in that SUV," Nyx says, and I watch as he hands one of the bags back to the delivery person. "And here."

Nyx places the bagged food at his feet before reaching for his wallet.

I can't see what denomination he pulls out, but it's large enough to shock the delivery person.

"You're sure?" the guy asks.

"Have a good night," Nyx says, watching as the guy walks away.

Once I know he's alone, I turn the deadbolt and open the door.

"You got dinner for the guys in the parking lot, too?"

"It's just Holler," he explains, making no move to enter until I step to the side. "We figure with me inside, we only need one more person keeping an eye out."

"Okay," I say, knowing I'd feel just as safe if he were the only one here, but appreciating the extra level of safety they have in place.

I try not to think about the fact that so many people have been put out just to help me. I'm sure they all have much better things to do than sit in the car all night, making sure no one approaches my apartment.

"Where do you want to eat?" he asks, holding up the bags as if he senses I need some sort of distraction.

"In there," I say, pointing to the small kitchenette.

I haven't carried much over from my old life, but sitting in the living room to eat just doesn't feel right with me.