Into the Stars (USC Series Book #2)

chapter twenty-seven

Malachi relaxes, I can feel it in the way he grips my hand and slides further into the seat, and comfort and understanding pass between us.

He coughs lightly and I don't know if he is prepping himself to speak or something else. "My mom, she was, uh, murdered." He pauses and I keep quiet, not sure what to say or how to comfort him. "When I was eleven-years-old."

My eyes fall onto him and I abstain from showing my shock, keeping my face impassive as I listen intently. His hold on my hand tightens as a sort of clutch. A relief.

"I was the one that found her," he mutters and all the air in my lungs expels in one stunned breath. "She was laying in the middle of the lounge room, in the dark, mutilated. I..."

His head falls back, eyes closing shut as though he is right back in that same place when he was eleven-years-old, finding his mother brutally murdered. My thumb traces circles in his palm, wanting him to focus on that rather than the memories.

"Sometimes I think about what I could have done to prevent it. Sometimes I think it was my—"

"It wasn't your fault. And you couldn't have done anything to prevent it. Someone has to be one sick motherfucker to do something as heartless and cruel as that," I interrupt, noting the sheen in his eyes once he opens them again.

With my spare hand, I move his head to look me in the eyes so he can see the sincerity behind every word I speak. He has to know in every capacity that it wasn't his fault and no matter how much he wants to go back and change it, there is always the same outcome. That is the thing about life. We all have regrets we live with, things we want to go back and alter. But the past is immutable. There are chapters in your life and every person has that one chapter they don't want to read again.

I hold his gaze, and I know he got my message when he nods. Rather than going back to his previous position, he lays his head on my shoulder and the action feels intimate, just like the memories he is reminiscing on right now.

"The mind typically erases all trauma, turning it into a distant blur, but... I relive that moment in my mind every fucking day. I remember the last few moments of my life before my innocence was robbed, and I realized the evil that resides in our world, right beneath our noses. I remember being frozen with shock, staring at her body, trying to gauge what I was seeing before reality set in. I remember how insensitive my hometown was about it because we came from the wrong side of town and how the police treated me like a suspect rather than a victim. My life was living hell, but the only thing on anyone's mind was finding the killer."

"Did they?" I ask before I can stop the question from coming out.

Another bitter but just as heartbreaking laugh escapes Malachi's mouth. "Yep. It was the bastard I just so happened to share blood and a last name with—my very own father, Vaughn. It didn't take long to catch him, truthfully. He did the shittiest job of cleaning up any evidence. Basically, his DNA was all over the crime scene, which isn't surprising. Even as a kid, I knew he wasn't the smartest."

Holy shit. Not only did his mother die in the most brutal way imaginable, but it was also at the hands of someone who was supposed to protect him from evil and love him unconditionally. My heart aches for him. Truly. By no means was my father an abiding character in my life, but before he lost control, he was the greatest father one could ask for. I can't imagine not having that support system growing up.

"Did you have somewhere else to go afterward?" I murmur the question, not expecting a complete answer. If there is something I have learned, Malachi normally keeps his past to himself, and tonight, he has already shared more than enough, displayed more vulnerability than I have ever seen.