Not even one night passes by when the nightmares don't visit him. He learned to live with them, hide them deeply, accept all the guilt of the things he did and of the things he didn't do. And he found a home with the Riders. But Wood is simply incom...
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Tamie
After we ate, we drove for hours, in silence. I look out the window most of the time, drinking the outside world that I almost forgot. Now and then I feel his gaze on me, as if he is checking up on me. But not like the guards did back with Freddie. He cares. I can tell he cares though I never had that feeling in my life.
No one cared for me. My mother sure didn't care for me nor Iris. She only cared about her next fix. Iris loved me but she was too young to care for me. I was her mother and father and sister. And then... No one cared if I was well. No one cared if I was cold or hungry or in pain. No one cared if I was thinking of killing myself over and over. But he? He does. For some reason he does.
I lean back on my seat and while I watch the sky change into the colors of the sunset, my eyes grow weary. After all these years, I feel that sweet fatigue take over me, one that isn't tense because of the fear that a man will come in and take me for his pleasure.
"Tired?"
I jump up at his voice. I feel safe around him but it's been so long since I last felt safe.
"It's OK, Tamie," he reassures me for the millionth time.
I glance at him as he drives and I take him all in again. When he gave me the phone to look at the photos, I caught my eyes drift to him in the pictures. There were times when he didn't know the photo was taken, sitting somewhere in the background. And that's when he looked so forlorn, sad, unhappy. Yet when he was facing the camera, he had that big smile on his face.
I look at him once more as he is focusing on the road. He has that same look on his face, that dark, haunted look that reminds me... Reminds me of my look when I let the mask on my face drop.
Then he turns to me and something changes. A smile blooms on his face and his eyes light up. This side of him I haven't seen. Not in the times he doesn't know I am looking, not when he is fake-smiling at the camera. It's a real smile, one that makes his breathtaking face, well... take my breath away.
"Are you tired, Tamie?"
It's been years since I admitted that simple thing to someone. That I was tired. There was never room for personal time. No being tired when I had to stay up, to fend off the strangers our mother brought back to our filthy house. No being tired when Daultrey was dragging me to my knees to plow into me. No being tired when Freddie demanded my presence for his clients.
"I am fine," I plaster a fake smile on my face and pretend to look chipper.
"Tamie," he warns me.
I still can't get used to this, to being free, to speak my mind, to tell what I feel and what I need. But after thinking about how I felt when I cried in his arms, I sigh and turn to him once more.
"I am tired," I say softly.
"We can stop for a shut-eye," Wood pulls over and looks at me. "Is that OK with you?"
