Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Wren

“Get behind me, Wren.”

Papa’s gun is trained at Six’s head, finger on the trigger, but instead of doing as I’m told, I step in front of Six, shielding him. “Please. Listen to me.”

“Get. Behind me. Now.” There’s a determined look in Papa’s eye, one I’ve never seen before.

Even though I’m scared shitless, I do my best to see the situation through his eyes. After all, Six is frightening, with his scars and the one eye that’s bloodied with a dilated pupil. He looks like a Rager, in some ways, aside from the pure blackness of their eyes and the soulless depths of their stare.

“No. He’s not dangerous. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“Get away from him!” Papa’s fingers dig into my arm as he yanks me away, before steadying his gun, and Six jumps to his feet.

With his chin propped in the air, Six reminds me of a dog backed into the corner, his lips peeled back into a snarl.

“He saved my life today.”

“I’m sure he did.” The air of disbelief in Papa’s voice angers me, and teeth clenched, I tromp across the kitchen, nabbing the set of tongs set out beside the stove, and lift the long body of the snake that I’ve been boiling.

“It nearly bit me. He killed it.”

With a frown, Papa’s eyes slide from me to Six. “He could’ve easily taken your life, as well. You’ve no idea what he is.”

“Then, tell me. What makes him so dangerous that you’d take his life?” Setting the snake back into the pot, I keep my attention on the gun and take slow steps toward Six. “You told me never to kill unless threatened. He’s not threatened anyone.”

“How did he get here?”

“I brought him.”

“What?”

“I went into the forest. There was a hole in the concrete. That’s where I found him. That’s where I saw the hospital. And the Ragers. And the Legion guards. They hurt him.”

“I forbade you to go into that forest, Wren! You disobeyed me!”

“You lied to me! You said there was nothing outside of those walls! But there is. Look at him! Look at what they’ve done to him!”

“He’s not what you think. He’s … not a victim.”

“How can you say that? How can you tell me those scars weren’t inflicted? Look at them, Papa. They’re no different than mine!” I shove my scar into his face—the one that seems to settle him whenever he gets worked up, and like always, he turns his gaze from it. “What is it about my scar that affects you so much?”

“I’ll return him. Finish supper, and I’ll be back before dark.”

“No!” Once again, I stand in the line of the barrel, acting as a human shield. “You will not return him to that place of torture. I won’t allow it!”

“You have no choice.”

“If he goes, I go.”

“You don’t even know this man, Wren. You don’t know what he’s capable of, to sacrifice yourself for him.”

“I know enough. I promised him I wouldn’t let them hurt him. And I intend to keep that promise.”

Papa’s cheek twitches with the anger that he’s undoubtedly fighting back. “If they find him here, he’s dead. We’re all dead.”

“They won’t find him. I promise you, I’ll not let them find him.”

His cold eyes settle on me, lips pressed to a hard line, as if he wants to argue, but won’t. “He’s not to sleep anywhere near this house. He can sleep in the pole barn. And if they catch him, God help him.”

He relents too easily. It’s a thought that eats away at me, as I fight not to let my emotions take over. Papa never gives up so quickly, and in those seconds that ticked by, I’d mentally prepared myself for a fight.

A fight that never materialized.

Relief washes through me, when Papa lowers the gun, and it’s then I notice the small bit of gauze at his arm.

“What happened?” I nod to his wrapped arm.

“It’s none of your concern,” Papa says and hobbles out of the room.

Six slides his hand into mine and squeezes, as if to say thank you.

It’s strange how in such a short time, I understand him better than Papa.

* * *

Frustration pulsesthrough me as I take a bowl of the snake meat and some vegetables, with a glass of water, out to the pole barn. Using blankets from the house, I arranged a makeshift bed for Six and gave him my pillow, the one he slept with the night before. The machinery stored toward the back gives off a strong metallic scent, much like Six did the night before, when I first brought him here. Now he smells like Papa’s cedar wood soap and mint.

He accepts the food, and I sit beside him, watching him eat.

His eyes are set beyond me, and I follow the path of his gaze toward the open door, where over in the house, Papa’s silhouette can be seen behind the curtain as he stands waiting for me.

With a huff, I twist back around to Six, wishing I could somehow convince Papa to let him stay inside. There’s a guest room that he’s used to store vaccines, and such, and it could easily fit the bed I’ve made from old blankets and sheets that probably wreak like mothballs.

“Will you be okay out here?”

Six nods, gulping down the proffered meat, which he washes down with a sip of water.

“I hate him for making you sleep out here, but I’ll work on him. Maybe he’ll eventually let you back in the house.”

As usual, Six says nothing in response, and particularly now, I wish he would talk. I’ve accepted his silence up until this point, learning his emotions through his actions, but a part of me fears that I’ll wake in the morning, and he’ll be gone. I wish I knew whether, or not, Papa’s words had affected him so much that he’d abandon me to appease the grumpy old man.

“He thinks you’re dangerous. He’s scared you might hurt me.”

Pausing, Six scowls and shakes his head. He cups my face and strokes his thumb gently across my cheek, before pushing my hair back behind my ear.

“You wouldn’t hurt me. I know that.” I know that he has some strange ability to heal, and that his reflexes aren’t exactly what I’d call normal, but Six isn’t a danger tome. “Do you remember your home? Where you came from?”

He shakes his head, spooning a heaping mound of vegetables into his mouth, and part of me is relieved by his response.

I won’t ask about his family again and risk that he’ll take off, like before. “So, you’ve nowhere to go. And you can’t remember your name.”

Staring somewhere beyond me, he sits as if in contemplation for a moment, then shakes his head a second time.

“Then, you’ll just have to stay here. Papa will just have to accept you here. I’m not sending you back to that place, Six. I won’t.”

Once he finishes his meal, I take the empty bowl from his hands, and his fingers brush mine, just as they did that day back at the wall. And just as before, his touch disarms me.

I push up from the barn floor, catching another glimpse of Papa, still waiting for me at the window.

“Goodnight, Six,” I say, leaving him there.

Just doesn’t feel right to me, treating him like an animal, left outside, and as I close the door of the pole barn behind me, I can’t bring myself to look back at him.

* * *

Darkness settles over the house,and when I wake, the moon is high in the sky. Sitting up from my bed, I listen for Papa’s heavy breathing, catching the cusp of a snore that tells me he’s fast asleep. At the wheezes that bleed through the wall, I slip out of bed, and into the shoes I tucked beneath. I didn’t bother changing into bedclothes, either.

Padding across the floor, I stand in front of the window, looking out over the expanse of the yard, where the pole barn sits in complete blackness, and slide the window open. A cool evening breeze wafts across my face, as I climb out onto the slope of the roof. Before I reach the gutter, I leap over the edge, dropping to a roll as I’ve done a number of times before.

Shaking off the tingle of pain in my shin, I limp across the yard until I reach the door of the pole barn. Muffled sounds from inside spike my curiosity, and I crack open the door to peek into the dark room. Moon’s light shines in through the window adjacent to Six’s bed, and I slip inside.

Curled on the floor, Six writhes and twitches in his sleep. The quiet grunts and moans reach my ear, as I pad across the pole barn and kneel at his side.

I reach out to stroke his arm.

Cold concrete cracks against my back, knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain rockets up my spine, and I gasp for breath. Pressure at my throat intensifies with the throttling at my neck. Circles float in front of me as I stare up at Six, whose eyes are crazed, pupils dilated like a feral animal. Whatever he sees behind those eyes, it isn’t me.

My chest sputters a cough, and I suck in a breath, squinting my eyes to push away the floating objects.

“Six, stop!” I manage between choking, and just like that, he snaps out of it.

His pupils shrink to the stark blue from before, and his brows swing up into a remorseful expression. He releases my neck and scrambles from my body, kicking himself backward until his back hits the wall behind him.

It takes a minute to catch my breath, and I sit up, holding my throat, bent forward with a hearty cough.

Fists beating at his temple, Six rocks in place, but stops to shake his head. A sound like a tortured animal echoes through the barn.

I scramble toward him, careful not to touch him unexpectedly. “I’m okay. Six, stop. I’m okay.”

He continues to hit himself, and at the first sight of blood, I brave the reach and take hold of his flailing arm.

The action stops him immediately, and the shine in his eyes, coupled with the tormented expression on his face, is all the apology I need. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, I know that. You had a nightmare.”

He cradles his head in his hands, tucking himself into his knees.

“Come lie down beside me. Come on, Six. It’s okay.” I tug at his arm, but he resists, twisting out of my grip. I grasp his arm again, holding tight. “Please.”

When he stills, I give another gentle pull, and he allows me to take him down to the floor, where I rest his head against my chest, holding him tightly. His massive body engulfs me, while I stroke his head to calm him, taking in the tremble of his muscles.

Just like the night before, I sing him to sleep.