Page 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

A ZALEA

“Why did you want to come up here?” Kyson asks, his voice echoing off the bare walls. He looks around at the small space, taking in the dirt-covered window, the single mattress we shared, and the bedside dresser. It all looks exactly as it did when we were here, untouched by time.

I walk over to the dresser and open the top drawer, revealing a stack of tattered clothes. Among them is a spaghetti necklace, its colors faded but still recognizable. I pick it up and hold it in my hand, memories flooding back to me.

“We hated these dresses,” I say, holding up an old tunic. “And the stupid peasant skirts she would make us wear.” I can still feel the itch of the rough fabric against my skin, the way it would cling to my sweat in the hot summers.

“Azalea?” Kyson whispers behind me.

“It’s mine and Abbie’s room,” I tell him. My voice sounds distant to even my own ears.

Kyson’s eyes widen as he takes in the room. “This is where you slept?” he asks, his voice full of disbelief.

I nod, unable to speak as my emotions threaten to overwhelm me. I walk over to the cupboard and run my hand along its wooden surface, remembering the countless times I was locked inside, unable to escape until Mrs. Daley deemed it was time for me to come out.

“Are you alright, Azalea?” Kyson’s concerned voice breaks through the haze, and I tear my gaze away from him to glance at the wooden chair he’s turning in the corner. Suppressed memories flood back, crashing against the walls of my mind, reminding me of why that chair is up here. It’s a painful reminder of the time we broke a similar one while trying to retrieve Christmas decorations from storage. Mrs. Daley, always one for dramatic lessons, made us bear the weight of that damn chair above our heads, claiming it would teach us about the burden she carried in looking after us.

To most people, it’s just a chair. But for us, holding two legs each above our heads for what felt like an eternity, we learned firsthand how even the lightest things become unbearably heavy after hours. Each time our strength faltered and we dropped it, Mrs. Daley’s cane would strike the back of our legs, leaving stinging reminders of her displeasure.

As I watch Kyson move the chair now, its screeching sound along the floor ignites an inferno of rage within me. I growl, snatching the chair from his hands, causing him to jump back startled. Without a second thought, I hurl it at the shitty little window. Shards of glass shatter everywhere, raining down around me as I stalk towards the chair. My sole focus is on obliterating it, as if by destroying this physical object, I could somehow erase the haunting memory it represents. Erase the echoes of Abbie’s cries as her knees buckled from each merciless strike of Mrs. Daley’s cane.

I pick up the chair once more and begin smashing it into the unforgiving floor. With each crash, wood splinters off, filling the air with the sound of destruction and releasing pent-up frustration that had been festering within me. The floor quakes beneath my feet, mirroring the turmoil in my soul, until Kyson grabs hold of my arms.

“Hey, shh, shh,” he murmurs gently, his eyes flicking down to the chair leg still clutched tightly in my hand. He reaches out and takes it from me. “Give it to me, Love,” he says softly, his touch calming. My hands tremble as I struggle to catch my breath, and Kyson cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are filled with concern and understanding, watching my face intently as I attempt to regain control of my emotions. But this place, this wretched place... it feels like I never left. Some part of me will always be trapped within these walls.

“I hate this place! I hate her! I hate what she did to us!” The words burst forth from me, accompanied by a sudden burst of tears. I despise this place with every fiber of my being, loathing everything it represents. It’s as if this single location has imprinted itself onto my heart and soul, screaming out that it will forever hold me captive. That escape is an illusion. The floodgates open wide, releasing all the pain and anguish I’ve been suppressing for far too long.

“She ruined us,” I sob.

“No, love. She ruined nothing. And you’re safe now. She is dead, she can’t hurt you no more, this place is just a place,” he says, hugging me.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Azalea,” he says softly. “It’s okay to let yourself feel.”

Tears fill my eyes as I lean into his embrace. For so long, I had pushed down my emotions, burying them deep inside of me in order to survive.

“I hate this place,” I say, my voice muffled against Kyson’s chest. “I hate what it represents.”

“I know,” Kyson whispers, rubbing soothing circles on my back.

We stand there for a few minutes before finally pulling away from each other. I wipe at my tears and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. It was just a chair. I broke a perfectly good chair. I inhale his scent, letting it calm me before I chuckle, knowing how many whippings I would have got if Mrs. Daley heard me crying. Kyson probably thinks I lost my damn mind, and even I question that possibility. I sniffle, feeling stupid and childish.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, wiping my face and glancing around the small space and the broken chair. I need to leave. I can’t stay here any longer. It hurts too much, and I want out. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, I rush down the steps needing air, feeling like the walls are closing in around me and that I am going to wake up at any moment and everything has been a dream, and I am really stuck here still. Kyson chases after me, and I rush through the kitchen and burst into the living room, heading for the front door. But the faces of the children make my feet halt. Trey and Liam look over at us, alarmed, and Kyson nearly runs into the back of me as I stop.

Little eyes, filled with innocence and curiosity, peer back at me, reflecting the shock mirrored in Katrina’s gaze. Her startled expression mirrors my own as I try to gather my thoughts amidst the chaos that surrounds us. “Azalea, dear, are you okay?” she asks, concern lacing her words. But this place, this dilapidated dump of a building, no longer holds me captive. Yet, my heart sinks as I realize that all these children still remain trapped within its crumbling walls. Desperation tugs at my soul as I turn to Kyson, hoping he can decipher the unspoken plea in my eyes.

“No!” he exclaims, his eyes widening in alarm. Confusion furrows my brow as I tilt my head to the side. But he folds his arms protectively across his chest and shakes his head vehemently.

“I’m not asking!” I assert, frustration seeping into my voice. His lips part as he glances around at the frightened faces surrounding us.

“No! What am I going to do with all these kids?” he hisses at me, his disbelief palpable. Ignoring his resistance, I pivot towards Katrina, determination etched on my features.

“Ring the bus depot and find a driver,” I instruct her, urgency coating each word. Confusion flickers across her face as she processes my request.

“You want a bus?” she questions, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes. Maybe two. I am taking them with me,” I declare firmly. She gasps, rushing towards me in a flurry of movement.

“You want to take all the children?” she asks incredulously, stealing a quick glance at Kyson who stands behind me, simmering with anger.

“Yes. So ring the bus depot. I want a bus here now,” I command, my gaze unwavering as I turn to face Kyson. He growls, frustration emanating from him.

“Are you insane?” he questions, his voice laced with worry. I shift my focus back to the young faces before me.

“Either I stay, or they come,” I retort, my eyes locking with him in a silent challenge.

“What are we going to do with all of them?” he asks, throwing his hands in the air.

“Some of the Lycan families might be willing to take them in,” Trey interjects. I nod, seeing the possibilities unfold before me. We’ll figure it out.

“And where do you think I am going to put them?” Kyson counters, his frustration palpable.

“The castle is big enough,” I state, refusing to take no for an answer.

“Azalea!” he growls, his anger flaring.

“No! You said I am running things here, and I say they are coming. Now get on board, my King, or get out of my way,” I declare, my voice firm and unwavering. He growls in response.

“Yes, I said that, but I didn’t think you were going to bring an entire orphanage back with us!”

“Fine. You tell them then. Say no to them, Kyson,” I say, motioning toward the kids. He swallows and glances at their little faces and I smirk, knowing very well he won’t or can’t utter those words. He presses his lips in a tight line.

“Fine!” he growls, and Liam chuckles.

“Come on, kids. Uncle Liam is helping you bust out of this crap box! Come on, let’s go!” Liam says, waving to all the kids to follow him. They glance around at each other and look at Kyson, unsure. He sighs and shakes his head.

“Come on then. Follow Uncle Liam!” Kyson says, motioning them to follow him. The kids don’t need to be told twice and rush after an excitable Liam and Trey. I laugh, following them.

“Where to, my Queen?” Liam calls.

“The town square. There is a bus stop,” I tell him. Katrina races out on the phone, telling the driver to come to the town square.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Kyson growls, grabbing my hand. I laugh before racing after the kids and tugging Kyson along with me.