Art Deco {Cherry Wine Sequel}

twelve

In order to heal, one must be able to let go completely of what hurt them. You need closure, a line drawn in the sand, a divide that splits your life neatly into the before and the after.

For me, the split was more a crevasse, spidering towards me and threatening to swallow me whole. Every time I regained my footing, another crack appeared. I didn't get closure, and I knew I never would. I would never lay my parents to rest, never exorcise Alistair's ghost. The best I could do was reach forward when I fell, and hope someone would catch me.

I sat on the edge of the marble bar on the third deck, bare feet swinging. Reuben and the guard I had yet to meet— he seemed to avoid me at every turn— were playing cards in the shade of the upper deck. Carlisle was on the bridge, manning the radar, although not much needed to be done. The cove provided shelter, and the high rock walls that created the cove hid us from view.

"Alright, I fold." Reuben set his cards down. "You win."

I watched in amusement as a few paper bills changed hands. The other guard clapped Reuben on the shoulder. He was the tallest of the three, an icy blond giant. I was almost glad he avoided me. He was twice my height and probably three times my weight.

"I'll relieve Carlisle." the blond pocketed the bills, and strode away towards the stairs that led to the navigation deck.

Despite the events of the morning, the boat was still and quiet. Lex had disappeared into his office below decks just after breakfast, and I hadn't seen him since. His absence sent a twinge of guilt through my chest. I knew he blamed himself for not protecting me. I could give him all the platitudes in the world, and never be able to convince him otherwise.

"Hey, kiddo." Carlisle swung himself off the stairs and onto the deck. "Feeling any better?"

I blushed, examining my rough cuticles. Other than Lex, Carlisle was the one who took the brunt of my emotional outbursts. Of all the guards, he was the one I trusted the most-- something about his open face and tendency to launch into philosophical monologues put me at ease.

"I'm sorry," I said looking at the ground.

"What are you sorry for?" Carlisle asked me.

I looked up at him in shock. His face was open and earnest; no hint of ulterior motives or the little mind games I was so used to from everyone in my life.

"For this morning." I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"Ruth, that's nothing to apologize for." Carlisle brushed a piece of hair from my forehead. "You've been through more than anyone your age has any right to. I'd be more worried if you didn't have outbursts."

I smiled, and leaned backwards. As I moved, the neckline of my sweater shifted down over my shoulder. Carlisle's eyes flicked downwards, and a crease appeared in between his eyebrows.

"Ruth, your neck." Carlisle squinted at me.

In a panic, I realized what he meant, and scrambled to pull my sweater back up to cover the marks Lex had left the night before, right in the hollow of my throat.

"I--" I scrambled for an explanation. "It's..."

"I know what it is." Carlisle winked, and I blushed again. "Come here. You're just fine, hey?"

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. I hugged him back tightly, laughing.

"We're here, Ruth," he said, rubbing my back. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."

I squeezed him a little tighter, my eyes burning.

Carlisle pulled away sharply. I lost my balance, perched on the edge of the counter. A strong hand caught my upper arm, steadying me.