Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

I bit my lip as he slipped on an algae-coated rock, falling to one knee. With his head bowed and both hands digging in the water up to his elbows, he looked as if he prayed to a river god.

He still wasn’t well. Doing this would tax him of whatever energy he’d been able to gain back. He’d brought me here to help, yet...I couldn’t seem to move.

Something called to me.

Something that had once been so strong I’d cried myself to sleep with longing, now whispered on the breeze.

Home.

I shivered as I turned and looked at the cliff surrounding us. The crisscross tree branch canopy shivered in the light wind, dropping the occasional orange and brown, crinkly and dead leaf.

The urge to run whispered louder.

Light-headedness from being strangled answered back.

Half of me swayed toward the rock face, gathering up strength to climb while the other half of me already knew how that story would go.

I would leave.

Kas would follow.

I would climb.

Kas would probably fall.

And I’d return because...

Why?

Because you’re worried about him? Because you care about him?

I winced.

I’d return because I was sick of going around in circles. Sick of fighting and arguing and going against all the nurturing and understanding parts of my nature.

This man was not at all well. Not just because of his concussion but something deeper than that. A rot had begun in his soul, and I didn’t know how much longer he had left. I cared because I cared about all life. It didn’t mean I wanted him for my own or had any delusions of why we were so drawn to one another.

After the last week of chained captivity and wallowing in my anger, I could never go back to that. He’d very successfully ensured that no matter how long I remained here, no matter what happened in the course of surviving together, I would never be stupid enough to fall in love. Whatever emotion I’d felt for him was no longer relevant—not because of strict pep talks in the dead of night, but because it just wasn’t possible to love something so damaged.

I could help, sure.

I could forgive, possibly.

But trust? Adore? Have faith that he was whole enough to love me back? To even understand the meaning of love?

That was where I had to draw the line.

After what he’d endured, I couldn’t blame him that pieces of himself were missing. I could understand that. I could respect that. But expecting a miracle where he suddenly grew a heart and let me go and actually willingly came with me back into society where help could possibly heal him...well, I no longer believed in fairy tales.

I’m too tired...

Tearing my eyes off Kas as he vanished into the large concrete box, ducking down to fiddle with whatever machinery made electricity from water, I chose a different story. I would not run today, but I would not help him either.

He’d hurt me.

And frankly, right now, I had nothing to give him.

Today, you’re on your own, Kassen Sands.

I was justified to rest...just a little while.

Exhaling heavily, wincing at the pain in my throat, I lay down on my back. I flinched for the numerous time at not having underwear on. My exercise bra seemed superfluous without panties protecting me. Since that first day Kas snapped the chain on me, I’d had to cut off my panties and couldn’t figure out how to get a new pair on that didn’t involve undoing the padlock.

I shouldn’t have taken off my skirt.

But it’d been clinging to my legs, making it hard to swim. I’d thought we’d stay submerged, complete the chore he’d chosen, and I’d put the material back on as we waded back to shore. I hadn’t expected him to strangle me and carry me out unconscious.

Does it matter?

He’d seen me.

He’d made it abundantly clear I wasn’t allowed to say no to him.

What difference did it make if I was nude or covered? He’d take me regardless.

My tiredness shoved away embarrassment and vulnerability.

In fact, it regressed me to animalistic roots, and I swooped up, yanked off my soaked bra, and tossed it away, leaving me sublimely bare to the hot sun.

I didn’t care anymore.

I just wanted to rest.

As I lay back, the long grass cradled me, forming around my body as if creating a natural hammock. The ground was warm and the sun beamed down, painting my nakedness with yellowy rays and shadowy crosses from the tree branch ceiling.

A splash came from the river, but I ignored it.

I gave myself this moment.

A single moment where I turned everything off.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d relaxed. Truly, completely relaxed.

It’d been too long. Way, way too long.

I didn’t know why I was suddenly able to switch off in his company after a week of living in constant awareness. A week where my skin prickled whenever he was close, and my instincts were hyper-sensitive to his every sound.

Perhaps it was his hands yet again around my throat, or maybe it was the fact he’d let me go and hadn’t checked to see if he needed to kill me to make me stay. Or maybe it was just because I’d reached my limit of being afraid, and this was now my new normal.

Either way, I only got to enjoy the sun’s golden rays for a few minutes before sleep crept over me, inching with its foggy fingers and pulling a velvet curtain over my mind. It soothed. It comforted. It erased the bruises around my neck, the bruises around my heart, sucking me deep, deep down into healing darkness.