Strength XXXIII

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Drawing above is another one of mine that I drew.  Since you guys liked the last one so much I thought I'd share this one too.

A/N:

I wrote this smaller chapter, debating if I should just wait to use it as part of the next chapter or not. But the next chapter is going to be a larger one with a lot going on, so I decided to upload this separately and give you guys something to hold you over until the next debut.

Enjoy!


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The door was cold, the hallway long. I titled my head unsure, wondering in unease at the silence. The grey morning air illuminated the nothingness before me.

"Momma?" My voice broke in its plea. There was no answer. I glanced back nervously to my bedroom, to the small spot beneath the bed frame where I had been hiding. The floor there was empty and could easily be seen from lowering yourself to my height. But what no one knew was the little nook that rose above it; the box frame creating a hollow ceiling a small body could balance itself into. I made a false bottom of cardboard there last year.

The unsteadiness of the silence seemed to stab through my skin again. The soft pink pajamas on my body cooled to the air around and licked my skin every move I made.

"Mommy?" I whispered again, desperately trying to throw my voice down the hallway without being too loud.  Still no answer. I ground my jaw in fear, my eyes beginning to water.

Slowly I began stepping down the hallway, my eyes glancing left and right as I searched for any sign of movement. I crept to the stairs and leaned my head out, blue gaze sweeping as much as the downstairs as I could see. I held the railing tightly as I leaned further out; straining my shoulder joints to keep myself from falling forward. But the sweat that dampened my hand became too much; in a painfully fast movement my grasp broke free and I tumbled forward. Hard hands caught me.

"Alys."

I whimpered and straightened in those hands, facing my father.

"Dad, I.... I was just... it was morning."

He stared at me quietly, letting my sputtering voice break through the air. My words began to dwindle as I realized he wasn't even listening to me.

"You look so much like your mother."

Water rose to my eyes. "I can cut my hair then?" A small smile tried to break through my tremoring lips, "Wouldn't that be fun? I can pretend to be your little prince instead of princess."

"My little princess." he whispered back.  Something else was gazing at me with his eyes. Always that something darker.

"I'll make you pancakes." He said suddenly and let go of me, walking towards the kitchen.

I stood there shaking. I couldn't move. I saw his steps slow suddenly, realization I had yet to follow- and like a whip to my back I ran forward and eagerly awaited him in the kitchen.

"Where's momma?"  I asked quietly, "Should I wake her to make the breakfast? She always cooks, I mean."

My father looked at me suddenly, his jaw tight and eyes bright. "So I can't make you breakfast? Is that it? You don't want what I do for you?"

"No!" I almost yelled back, "No I do, dad! Thank you for doing this, dad." tears slid down my face. "...I love you dad."

"Love?" he said softly, like the word baffled or intrigued him. "Love..." he said again, the word seeming to taste bitter against his tongue.  Suddenly his arm shot out and shattered the utensil holder off the counter. I ground my fingers in my side. Don't run, don't run, don't run.

Broken glass whizzed by my face; my ear began to ache as something wet dripped to my shoulder.   He lowered himself in front of me. "Yes, sweetheart." he kissed my eyes which were pressed shut, "Only I could love you. You know that right? You know what your mother did."

I nodded. I always nodded when he told me this.

"See that? You know what she did, and know how she made you out of that wrong. But I made it right. I love you both so much. Only I could. Those other people," his hands moved from my shoulder to what I assumed would be the front door, "They don't know what you are; they don't know what you've both done. They don't love you and they never could."

I nodded fiercely, tears straining from my closed eyes. "Because," I hiccupped "because only you love us."

"Yes baby girl," he wrapped my in his arms, "Only me. Only me. I love you both. I protect you both. And I correct you both." his kiss pressed heavily into my forehead. "When you're wrong, I'm there to fix it. To discipline you to show you the right way. Your mom needed to be punished last night. She lost her way. She kept something from me yesterday."

My eyes widened as I stared at him. She had taken me for muffins yesterday. We had escaped for a few moments. I begged her for just one bite- dad never let us have anything unless he decided on it, but the honey crumbs before me had made my mouth water immensely.  I left my muffin wrapper in the trash. I wasn't thinking.

My eyes widened more as I realized that patient look he was giving me. That way he would gaze at me, forcing me to confess my own sins; telling me the whole while he knew what they were.

"I didn't mean to eat the muffin." I whispered swiftly, "Momma and I just stopped on the way home. Please it was just a muffin."

He nodded his head in agreement. "Just a muffin. I know. Because you like sweet things?"

I stared in confusion. Finally I nodded.

"Yes, yes. Of course you do Alys. You like sweet things. And you like them all for yourself."

I shook my head no, but he was already bringing me into the kitchen. "So you know what we are going to do about that?"

"Dad, please I'm sorry. Please."

His grip on my wrist began tightening even more, but his voice remained passive. "I thought you wanted pancakes."

"Dad, please I'm sorry!" I began fighting him, realizing this was what he was planning all along. "Dad, please! Mom!" I turned and screamed hysterically for the stairwell. "Mom! Mom! Please help me!" 

"Be quiet Alys." he growled, but I screamed for her over and over again. "I said be quiet!" A hand came around and slammed my skull against the fridge. 

Through the tears and snot and lights dancing in my eyes, I could barely see his face. But I could hear his words clearly.

"If you want sweet things, if you want to lie to me.... then I'll give you enough you'll never do it again." Sharp fingers jammed into my mouth and pulled my jaw down with force. The cap from the maple syrup bottle snapped through the air. 

I began choking, breathing in, and sputtering on the thick liquid as it was poured forcefully down my throat. "M....o-...m!" I tried screaming, but my lungs were already burning from the lack of oxygen and the syrup that was catching in them.

....

I couldn't see his face.

....

But I could hear his words clearly.

....

"I do this because I love you."

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I lunged forward, but a pair of arms were already encircling me. The weight of them kept me from jumping out of the bed. I whipped my head right and froze.

"You're okay." he whispered, the grogginess of the morning leaving those eyes instantly. Light brown hair was disheveled and hung over his grey silver orbs. "Alys, it was only a dream."

My chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as I stared in fear and confusion into Hayden's eyes. My body was tight and rigid, ready to bolt yet somehow agonizingly frozen.

The morning light skimmed his silver eyes. "Breathe," he commanded and slid his hand to my jaw line. The sensation of his fingertips suddenly felt like those of the dream, of the syrup bottle about to be shoved down my throat again. I bolted away, breaking his grasp painfully, scrambling for purchase on the far side of the bed- wide eyes trying to find where my father was.

"Alys." Hayden insisted cautiously.

My gaze found his again, though my tight eyes strained their peripheral. Where is dad... where is dad? Deep in my bones I remembered he was coming. Was he here? Was it real?

"Breathe Alys..."

The voice was low... soft... patient. I forced my attention back to Hayden again.

"Just breathe..." he had leaned forward and was sitting up, staring intently at me. "You're okay."

The gray light illuminated his tired eyes, revealing dark shadows underneath. Somewhere in the back of my head it connected; he hadn't slept much. I glanced down and watched his lower torso and legs, entangled in my bed sheets. Slowly it all came back to me, Hayden was here. Hayden was real. Dad wasn't. It was just a dream.

I slumped into my hands and let out a shuttered breath. "Sorry," I whispered.

His low voice again, patient but somehow firm. "Look at me, Alys."

I raised my head and watched him for a moment more. Finally he slipped his body forward and sat next to me. He gazed incessantly down at my face, taking in all that my features had to show. I had enough nightmares already to know how I looked. Feverish skin, strained eyes, tightened jaws, a craving for something to wash away the bitter taste in my mouth.

"I shouldn't have grabbed you," he said, "I know that didn't help...."

I shook my head, "It was a nightmare. There's no good or bad way of going about it... trust me I've had enough physiatrists picking apart my brain to know these come no matter what- there's no stopping or avoiding them."

I rubbed my eyes over and over again. Hayden watched me quietly, seeming to contemplate my face.

"I won't let him hurt you." he whispered and my eyes rose to his. "Ever, Alys. I'll be here. He can't touch you or your mother-"

"He thought he owned us," I broke in. "My father truly thought we were his to discipline and punish- it was his responsibility. I know he received counseling in there... but I don't know if any of it helped."

"Mental illness is a hard thing to combat." Hayden whispered to me, "But it does not take away responsibility for someone's actions. What he did to you was wrong, more wrong that you could ever know. I heard you in your sleep Alys. I heard you say only he could love you."

My eyes widened and I leaned away a fraction of an inch. But Hayden's hard cold eyes burned into my skull. "He never loved you. Not truly, not the right way."  Hayden's hand slid against my cheek and into my hair, "You're stronger than all that's around you. Never forget that. You have friends and family. He was wrong. People love you." that gaze seemed to deepen, "Others love you. So don't ever listen to his words again."

My heart drummed heavily to his voice. I could feel his warm hands against my skin, his warm breath against my cheek. My heart beat unsure in my chest as I met Hayden's eyes again.  He seemed to be aware of my hammering pulse. The pad of his thumb began to stroke the edge on my cheek and jaw line, tracing light circles that caused my skin to tingle. His gaze became hooded, hiding any obvious emotion to them, yet still somehow looking dangerous and warm. I swallowed roughly. The movement drew his eyes to my throat and then my mouth.

His fingers tightened a fraction of an inch and his lips parted.

"Good morning," my mother sighed while opening the door.

I jerked away in surprise and yipped as I found my mother's eyes, the shock and anger profoundly slammed into her face. She stared in horror at Hayden's hand in my hair, his body already crowding over mine.  I knew her very thoughts as the red seeped across her cheeks.

"Well fuck me." Hayden growled and flopped back onto my bed.

My mother looked either about to faint or murder him.

What a poor choice in words....

And suddenly, I couldn't stop laughing.

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"Stop it." Hayden growled. I bit back the smile but it wasn't working. After a few seconds of relative silence, a soft snort left my nose. Hayden swung his head back around towards me, bestowing me with one of his legendary glares. It only made the bubbling laughter in me grow. Finally he sighed and looked back towards the coffee cup in front of him, mindfully ignoring me and letting it fill under the machine. "At least you're enjoying yourself," he grumbled to himself.

You're such a child in the mornings, I thought as I stared at him from the bar counter I sat at, can't even function without your coffee.

The smile stretched further across my lips. I watched him curiously, enjoying the sleepy shadows against his face and the way he eyed his pouring coffee with a tired squint. My mouth relaxed as I got lost staring at him. Hayden's light brown hair hung over his eyes and ears, giving him a shaggy appearance he didn't normally have. The straight line of his nose met with the hard lines of his lips. I watched those lips, knowing how deceiving that hard line could be; knowing how warm and soft they could actually be.

His eyes met mine. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks and the tips of my ears and I darted my eyes away immediately. I focused on my hands against the counter as my toes pressed into the bar stool.

"Something interesting?" that roughened voice murmured. He was clearly amused.

"Nope. Just wondering why you look like shit. Didn't sleep well?"

A slow lazy smile stretched across his lips, "Oh on the contrary, I slept quite nice. That is until frozen feet kept managing to touch my legs."

I grinned at that, "Aw that explains why I slept so nice then."

But I faltered that smile, remembering again the nightmare from this morning.

"How are you?" he asked, knowing full well where my mind went. He walked towards me and handed me his coffee.

"Thanks" I murmured, taking it from him. I watched my reflection dance atop the liquid's surface. "I'm good." I said honestly, "I can't really stop those dreams... but it's not taking ahold of my day."

Hayden nodded and walked back towards the cupboard, grabbing another cup for himself. He clearly wasn't going to give up on his caffeine that easily.  I tilted the cup idly in my hands. The smooth surface of blackened espresso barely rippled to my touch. There was no tremor, no murmur within my hands.

So quiet.

Even after the horrors of my night where those memories resurfaced, even after the horrors of this day; another one closer to my father's release.... a quietness had settled over my joints; a peace temporally overriding my tick.

And it was all because of him.

My eyes rose to watch Hayden again. I had never seen or met anyone as strong as him. I didn't want to think about the fact he intended to go down with this mural, but it was there- at the forefront of my mind- that he really was going to. And he was unbelievably strong for that. He wouldn't think that, but he was wrong. He was the only one truly not guilty, not in the moral sense, but he had no care for that. All he wanted was for everyone to know. All he wanted was for our school and State to be held responsible.

I wanted that strength. The only reason I wanted to paint my part of the mural was for revenge... personal revenge. And though many deserved it, it wouldn't be my strength that gave it to them. It would be my weakness. It would be my own petty fault.

While with him though, I felt that strength. The fear of my father, the fear of Jackson, the fear of losing myself to my journals, the fear of being hated by Hayden himself- they all evaporated the moment he forced himself in front of me and forced me to talk with him. 

My mother walked into the kitchen suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. She glared at Hayden's back as she made her way towards me.

"Shall we leave in twenty minutes? The lawyers will be expecting us."

I nodded my head, "Yeah sounds good. I'm just finishing some coffee"

She glanced down and eyed it skeptically. I didn't drink black coffee; my choice of poison involved a splash of milk and sugar.

"Not originally yours or forgot to add something?"

I narrowed my eyes at her and took as sip out of defiance. The heat felt amazing, but the bitter grounds not so much. My face must have said it all. She sighed and walked towards the refrigerator, grabbing milk and sugar off the counter. On her way back by, she snagged the freshly poured cup. Hayden didn't protest, just watched her with lazy silver eyes. The deadliness in them still remained though.

I knew Hayden hated my mother. But this was the first time I saw her hatred for him. Just two weeks ago he was at our house and my mother was very much in love with him. But it seemed he stopped putting up any pretense with her; he wasn't glamouring her anymore.  Whatever fallout they had- it had shattered any pleasantries and lies they had placed before each other. And I was immensely grateful for that. Even with as aggressive as they were both acting right now, they were both genuine. My mother wore no falsified porcelain mask. Hayden wore no handsome innocent smile. And I loved every second of it.

I watched her from under my eyelashes as she fixed my coffee and then hers. She did fairly well in not killing Hayden this morning, but that was only because she owed him for my safe return.  It was like they both knew it. They walked around each other, not saying a thing beyond their glares. But Hayden knew I loved her, and I would protect her from even him- so despite his feelings for her he didn't say a word. And my mother knew she owed Hayden this morning, the anger and guilt swirling behind her eyes every time she glanced at him.  

"Thanks" I said as she handed me my coffee. She smiled slightly at me, and gently brushed back a small tumble of blonde hair from my face. That guilt was there in her face. She wasn't there for me when that letter arrived. And she couldn't stand it... not again.

Her words from last night rang in my head.

I know I am a shit mother....but I won't let him destroy you again; I won't turn away this time. I will protect you.

I will protect you... That's what she said. For the first time, my mother wasn't going to lock herself away. She was going to stand by my side.  She would come when I called.

We had both changed.

When did that happen?

Why?

I stared into her eyes, entranced by the clarity; as brittle and fragile as it was, that we shared between us.

"Mom?" I asked softly.

Her brows creased together before she answered, "Yes, Alys?"

I smiled softly, "Would you like to get muffins this morning? Honey crumbed?"

She hesitated for a second, wide eyed in shock and dismay, before something hit her. It hit her.

We were free. We had been free this whole time. Why was it only now, with my father's pending release, we finally realized that? Why did take us this long to comprehend that?

Why was it only now we were fumbling to pick up the pieces?

Hayden was quiet, hands braced on the kitchen sink as he listened quietly to our words.

Finally a smile, a heartfelt beautiful smile, broke across her face.

"I would love that."

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A/N:

Did you catch the pieces reference? All Hayden's talk seems to be working on her, she's got to learn to pick up what's left.

Dun dun dun. I also was going to push

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