Destroyed(76)

I sucked in air, locking my muscles, conjuring all the self-control I possessed. If I ever needed complete and utter discipline, it was now. I’d avoided children since losing Vasily. I couldn’t look at them or listen to them or even watch them on television.

To me, children were the embodiment of everything I tried to preserve: innocence, fragility, trust, and unconditional acceptance.

I deserved none of it, therefore I wasn’t fit to be around them.

The little girl inched forward again, encroaching on my space. I didn’t know how most children should behave, but she was forward—so f*cking brave and inquisitive. Shouldn’t she be timid and meek? Too frightened to talk to a scarred stranger?

“You look scared. What happened? You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.” She drew a cross over her heart. “I promise. I have nightmares sometimes. Do you?”

Everything about her intoxicated me until I couldn’t move an inch. She came forward another step. “You’re not like the other adults. You look like one, but I don’t think adults get scared. You shouldn’t be scared. My mummy taught me to not be afraid of anything.”

Her tiny fingers flew to her lips. “Oops. She said I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers. Um, you won’t tell on me? She gets real mad when I talk to people. I don’t know why. I know when they’re bad, and you’re not bad. Mummy also gets mad when I cough which is so silly.” Her eyes met mine. “Do you have a mummy who tells you off for making friends with strangers?”

She moved until she stood directly in front of me. My body shuddered and vibrated. Memories of Vasily and my past kept battering me all the while this perfect angel chattered on—seeing deep into my black-ridden soul further than she had any right to.

“Whoa. What happened to your cheek?” Her little hand pointed upward, eyes squinting in the sun behind me. “It looks like a bad man hurt you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did the bad man hurt you? I hope you made him pay. Those sorts of people shouldn’t be allowed to go around making other people ugly.”

Every word lacerated me until I felt like a large tree being hacked at with an axe. Every syllable and consonant chipped away at my already crumbling foundation, and my roots began to snap.

My left leg gave out, slamming hard against pebbles. My right leg joined until I kneeled before the one thing in my world I couldn’t fight.

I toppled to the ground before her, undone by her pristine innocence.

Every organ howled against conditioning, every bone bellowed in agony—my refusal to inflict anymore pain brought mind-numbing orders, amplifying and amplifying, enraged by my disobedience.

I no longer needed fists to find redemption. I found punishment just by staring into the eyes of someone so pure.

“Do you understand English?” the girl asked, moving to stand right in front of me. Her eye level was slightly higher than mine, making me feel as though I should bow to her, obey her, worship her.

I didn’t know what compelled me to reply, but I couldn’t stop. “Yes. I understand English.”

She smiled, clapping her dainty hands. “Great. I thought you did seeing as you told me not to touch you. What language were you talking just now?”

“Russian.”

“And your cheek. Did a bad man do that?”

“Yes.”

Her smile increased and a flash of anger that shouldn’t be seen on a little girl’s face crossed her features. “Did you kill him? I would’ve killed him.”

Who was this child? This perfect, brilliant, brave, little child.

I hung my head. “No. He’s still alive.”

She tutted. “Well, I would kill him.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she announced, “I like you.” Her face scrunched up as if I’d passed her test of likeability and stuck her hand out. “I’m Clara. What’s your name?”

A lazy, warm wind drifted across the driveway, rustling the trees ringing the perimeter. I gawked at the little girl dressed in a purple sweater and black leggings. Her hair hung loose, strands kicking in the breeze. A single purple ribbon twirled around her jaw.

My vision blurred around the edges.

This girl was everything I needed. Everything I was running from and to, and I didn’t even know it.

Her sweet fearlessness clutched my heart and in a matter of moments, she’d monopolized my every thought.

My gravity shifted.

I fell madly f*cking in love.

I knew I shouldn’t do it.

I knew I should run and never look back.

But I didn’t.

Holding out my hand, I moaned when her little fingers squeezed around mine. Tears sprang to my eyes in overwhelming gratitude. Gratitude for being able to retain my self-control and gratitude for this perfect creature.

Her touch shattered me.

Her touch awoke me.

Her touch destroyed me.

“Hello, Clara.” I looked up into her liquid eyes. “I’m Roan.”





I’d always known life had its favourites. Like a parent sometimes has a favourite child, life lavished attention and gifts galore on the ones it favoured. The ones it didn’t care for were forgotten. Allowed to survive, but given no special treatment.

I was one of the ones allowed to survive—to carve my own journey with no help.

But Fox, he was someone else entirely.