Page 43 of Stabby Little

* * *

I light a candle and sit on my apartment floor. It's grimy, but it's better than the alternative which is the Diavolos' warehouse.

My heart slams in my chest as I take a sip of ginger tea. It's a local tea I bought at an organic shop earlier today. I was super proud to buy it after having to steal for basic necessities two weeks ago.

Why did I run from Grant? I feel like such a fucking idiot. He was standing at the door and I could've had the conversation I've wanted to have for the past seven years.

Why didn't you rescue me?

Did you search for me at all?

Did you put in more effort than my parents who gave up after two years?

I can't believe I didn't speak to him. Perhaps I didn't want to face my past. Perhaps I didn't want to admit how much my abductors hurt me. Or perhaps I sensed that there was something beyond that door, a discussion I'd need to engage in that'd change me forever.

When Grant and I finally speak, there will be no more fantasizing about the version of him I've created in my mind. I'll need to pair my dreamed-up version with reality.

Fuck knows that never ends well.

In the warehouse, Grant was my closest mental companion. He was there for me when my captors forced me to fuck disgusting men, there for me when I manipulated Jack and took his cock in the storage closet, there for me when I needed someone to talk to about my problems.

Speaking to him again will banish my true imaginary Daddy—the only Daddy I've ever had—to make-believe land. I thought I was ready to move past my fake Grant, but I'm not.

Sparrow walks into the room. "Hey, Ollie." He glances at my tea. "Oooh, that looks yummy. It smells good, too."

I take a sip. "It's ginger tea. I bought it from an organic market earlier today. Try a sip."

Sparrow sits cross-legged in front of me and sips my tea. "It burns, but it's soothing. That's a weird combination. I like it."

"Don't mind me." I light a candle to summon some good energy. "I'm just beating myself up over being a moron this afternoon."

"What did you do?"

I tell Sparrow everything about my visit to Grant's house. I tell him that I left before I spoke to Grant even though he came to the door. I end by reiterating that I'm a massive pansy who doesn't deserve Grant.

"You didn't do anything wrong." Sparrow pulls his sparrow stuffy out of his pocket. "You froze up at the sight of your beloved. That happens to everyone."

Well, that's helpful.

"Thanks," I say, trying to scrub every hint of sarcasm from my voice. "Grant's not my beloved. He's just my childhood best friend's Dad."

"Who's also your beloved," Sparrow drawls. "Don't lie to me. You fantasized about Grant more times than I could count in the warehouse. He was your escape from our shitty life."

This is the hard part about rooming with the boys you escaped a sex trafficking dungeon with. They know everything about you—your quirks, your needs, your kinks. Sparrow definitely beat me off while I fantasized about Grant patching up my knee.

"That's my problem." I rest my chin in my hands. I explain my hesitation in regard to meeting Grant face-to-face again. "I don't want to stain the picture of him I've created in my mind."

Sparrow leans forward. "This is stressful. You need a hug."

He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight. He's wearing a knit sweater that feels so soft and cozy on my skin. I inhale deeply and smell the scent of clementines, which nourishes my soul in an area I didn't even know I had.

Sparrow loved clementines in the warehouse. When our captors purchased them for Christmas, he begged them to let him have extras. All the boys gave Sparrow their clementines because they knew they were his favorite food.

The fact that Sparrow's able to eat them now whenever he pleases warms my heart. I'm happy for my friend.

"Fine," I drawl, pushing Sparrow away. "You give good hugs."

"Did I solve your problems?"