Falling Slowly

Chapter Sixteen: Tough But Shattered Armor

♥ Dedicated to Platypus1987 for figuring out what the song in the chapter titled Running Away meant :) Also, the graphic on the side bar was made courtesy to her ♥

Chapter Sixteen –Tough But Shattered Armor

Liam

It was nearly midnight when I pulled up to the curb of Anya’s house and keyed the ignition. There were many scenarios that plagued my thoughts, while I drove down the familiar path to our neighborhood, of what actions Mr. Vanchester would make once he saw that I was the one who had kept his daughter out well into the night.

I expected Mr. Vanchester to march outside in a heat of anger once he heard the roar of my engine coming down the street. Or I expected him to lie in wait, hidden behind one of the many strawberry bushes that aligned their garden with a taser in hand. Whatever the scenario, nothing – and I mean absolutely nothing – could have prepared me for what awaited us.

Anya gasped and hopped of the bike, her hand running through her hair as she muttered, “I can’t believe they did this.”

My eyes flickered to the police cruiser that was parked on the driveway.

“Well,” I said. “Guess being castrated is the least of my problems. Being hauled off to jail is way worse. Handsome guys like me don’t fare well in prison.”

Anya turned on her heels, and eyed me incredulously. “You don’t actually think that…do you?”

I chuckled, bounding off my bike. Anya continued to stare at me dumbfounded, seeming to ask in the dark brown of her eyes if I wanted a death sentence, which is what I would get when we walked through the door together. There was nothing humorous about the situation, except for the worry lines that creased her forehead as her brows furrowed.

The smile that formed on my lips was of its own volition. There was something about Anya worrying about me that caused my mind to wonder if she felt the way I was beginning to feel about her.

I closed the gap that separated us, and stood in front of her. Anya didn’t even bother to look at me, her eyes solely trained on the ground. I titled her chin, willing her to meet my gaze. When she did her eyes were two small brown pools with tears brimming on the edges, ready to spill any minute.

“Anya?”

“You don’t know,” she said, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “I can’t face them. I don’t know what I’ll say.”

My brows furrowed as I realized that she wasn’t only talking about our outing, but something else altogether. I wondered if it was the reason that she wanted to get away for a few hours – to forget. And it had worked – the forgetting – but now those feelings were resurfacing, and there was no more room to run any longer.

She needed to face it, but by the tears and reluctance perceptible in her eyes – she didn’t want to.

I moved my hand from her chin and rested it on her shoulder. With a fist she wiped at the tears that silently fell on her cheeks. It was then – seeing the obvious conflict on her face – that I wanted to ask her what was going on because it wasn’t a small pebble that had cracked her reality, but a huge boulder.

But I didn’t ask. Instead I said, “You don’t have to do this alone,” and offered my hand for her to take.

She slipped her hand into mine and we walked up the driveway, where the living room lights flicked on at the sound of our footsteps on the paved granite stones. Anya took out her keys and unlocked the door, sighing before she opened it to the empty foyer.