Page 68 of The Idol

“I know,” I murmured, thumbs brushing away the tears spilling down his cheeks. “You were brave. Braver than anyone in that room.”

He shook his head violently, crying harder. “No. No, I wasn’t. I was s-so scared. Jace—” His voice broke on my name. “It hurt. It hurt so much. Everything hurts. I don’t k-know what to do.”

My breath left me in a painful rush.

I leaned in closer, forehead almost touching his temple, hands still cradling his cheeks. “I know,” I whispered. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Elior sobbed again, muffled and aching, trying to hide his face in the pillow until I gently guided him back so I could see him.

“No hiding,” I said softly. “Not from me.”

His lip trembled, his pale lashes clumped with tears. “I didn’t want you to see me cry,” he whispered.

“Too late,” I said, voice breaking on a rough exhale. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He reached out blindly until his fingers wrapped around my wrist, squeezing like he was scared I’d move away from him.

“I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come tonight. But I hoped. I hoped so much it hurt. It was you, wasn’t it? Last night? I’ve been so scared that it wasn’t. Please, tell me it was you.”

I closed my eyes briefly, a tremor running through me. “It was me, cherub.”

Elior gave a trembling, shuddering breath and nodded. Then, he whispered, small and hoarse, “It hurts to breathe.”

I swallowed hard, grateful that he didn’t seem to want to discuss the night before. We would, eventually. Just not now. Not like this. “Can I lift up your shirt, baby? I need to see.”

He nodded, a lone tear slipping from his eye. I inhaled, squeezed his cheeks gently, then let go. I stood up, then sat on the edge of the mattress, lifting his soft t-shirt. Inch by inch, I revealed his battered back, my fury reigniting with every wound.

“Okay,” I said quietly, keeping my voice calm for him. “Did someone clean these up for you? Did they give you anything for the pain?”

He nodded against the pillow, tears dripping soundlessly now.

I brushed his hair back from his damp forehead.

“I know it’s tough, but I need your words right now, cherub.”

He let out another soft sob, nuzzling into my hand. I petted him gently as he tried to find the words to tell me what had happened.

“I b-blacked out when Father f-finished, when they let my arms go,” he sniffled. “When I woke up, I was in here, l-like this. S-Sister Dahlia was wiping my back and it stung really bad, so—so I started crying and then—then I noticed F-Father was sitting in a chair by the window. He said I shouldn’t cry because—because I honored the Light.”

“Good, baby, keep going,” I encouraged him, my hand sliding down to lightly massage his nape.

His eyes slipped shut as he relaxed into my hold. “Father left then, and Sister Dahlia was crying, but w-when she saw me looking, she stopped and told me she’d cleaned my back so it won’t get infected. Then she gave me some medicine to help me feel better, and helped me drink a cup of water.” Elior’s voice weakened as he spoke, growing smaller and smaller until it was barely a breath. “She kept saying she was sorry,” he whispered. “Over and over. I told her it was okay, but she shook her head. I wanted her to stay with me but she was gone before I could ask.”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I forced myself to take a few deep breaths before responding, just to be sure none of my anger slipped out with my words.

I smoothed my thumb along the back of Elior’s neck, feeling how tense his strained muscles were, and said quietly, “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner, cherub. I had to wait until it was safe. But, I’m here now, okay?”

Elior swallowed, his voice rough. “Okay.”

“And I’ll stay as long as you want me to tonight,” I said, leaning down until my forehead touched the edge of the pillow near his temple.

He let out a fragile little shudder.

I closed my eyes. His breath warmed my cheek. His tears dampened my fingers.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I murmured.

He nodded faintly against the pillow, a shaky sound escaping him—something halfway between a sob and a breath of relief.