Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I shook my head, a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"I was holding the gun," he said softly. "And when I spun the barrel, it triggered you."
Triggered you…
What did that mean? And why did it happen?
I was crying. Sitting on the floor, I hugged my bent legs to my chest, and buried my face against my knees.
Then Timeo did the most beautiful thing. He sat beside me.
When I was younger, before I learned to curb my mouth and follow the rules so I wouldn't get hurt, my father would take his anger out on me. Eden couldn't stop him, although God knew that she tried. She couldn't make it better, and before we grew older, she couldn't get us out either. But she would walk with me.
I would go to school in the morning, or to get water, or to pick up some groceries from the store. And she would just walk with me. Sometimes she would reach out and hold my hand. Sometimes she would sing a little song or tell me a funny story to make me laugh. But most of all, she just walked with me, and that was the best thing anyone could've done.
Now Timeo was sitting beside me. Not prying, not asking questions, not giving me advice, or telling me what to do. Just sitting with me.
Solidarity was maybe the most beautiful gift you could give someone.
After a while, I stopped crying and began to sort through what had happened. Other people would make you talk at a time like this. Timeo didn't. Eventually, he took my hand and held it. It was the one time I didn't get that friction of awareness that told me male, masculine, danger. My feminine sensibilities didn't even rear their heads. Because this time, it just felt like a friend.
"I hate that you can mentally suppress memories,” I said in a shaky voice.
"I know. I agree. It makes you feel like you're not in control of your own thoughts, right?"
I nodded. "It makes me feel like I can't control my own reactions, and that's scary."
He sat there, not replying but taking my second hand and holding them both. It might have been the most intimate thing anyone had ever done to me.
"I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.” Panic swept through me.
Would he be reluctant to teach me now?
"Don't you dare apologize. This is nothing to apologize for, Starla. You apologize when you've done something wrong. Never, ever apologize for being human."
I paused and thought about that. How many times had I apologized for things I didn't need to apologize for? How many times had I taken the blame for something I didn't need to, blame that wasn’t mine to bear?
It all began to come back. I needed to tell him, or I would burst. I had to eviscerate the memory.
"Do you remember the day that you, Sergio, and Eden found me?" I was proud of myself that I could say it without my voice shaking.
"Remember?" Timeo said in a voice that was somehow darker than it was before. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"
"They did…things to me there that I've never told anyone." Every once in a while, Timeo got this look in his eyes that made me wonder if he was even human, because there was so much anger and cold calculation. If anyone ever asked me in a court of law if Timeo was capable of murder, I'd have to tell them yes because that look was what made me know.
Luckily no one ever asked.
He had taken lives. And he would do it again, with reason. Was he some unhinged murderer who would shoot people at random? No. He had more self-control than my father did as an older, more experienced adult.
But would Timeo end the life of someone who threatened someone he loved? Absolutely.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.
"I don't want to, no. But I want to learn how to shoot a gun. And it's becoming clear to me that that is going to be harder than I thought."
I swallowed a lump in my throat and let myself feel the comfort of his hands.
Timeo nodded. Somehow, he seemed to be reining himself in. He was a stallion, pawing at the starting gate.
“Did they assault you?"
Abuse against women were two of the greatest sins one could commit, according to Timeo.
"One did."
“Motherfucker.”
I swallowed again and cleared my throat. A shiver raced down my spine at the latent violence in his tone.
What could I say? It was sobering to know that the person you loved was capable of justifiably killing somebody.
“So, all of the men of the fellowship were pasty white, older men who barely saw sunlight because they had all of us working for them. But this one man, he was different. He was obviously the one everyone else was afraid of. He didn’t look like any of the others. He was fit, not quite as old as the elders, dressed in more modern clothes and had tattoos, scars." I swallowed. "He acted like he was in charge. And he was in that room with me."