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A few weeks after escaping the House, I realized that I developed a revulsion to physical contact.

Ironically, I had been fine back in the House. The aversion started after leaving that hell. Except for Mark, touching anyone else made my stomach churn and my skin crawl.

If that was to be the only imprint the House left on me, I could live with it. But it wasn't.

I was washing something in the sink, my back to Nathaniel who was leaning against the island, digging into a piece of the coffee cake he loved.

Fortunately, Mark was in our bedroom, stacking all his gifts.

"Man." Nathaniel moaned out loud, the sound rising the hairs on the back of my neck. "This is so good."

And suddenly, I was back in one of the rooms, lying on my stomach, my skin slick with someone else's sweat and pain between my legs, a choking grip on the back of my neck as he took what I had lost over and over again.

The feel of the satin sheets, the coolness of the room against my bare skin, the smell of sex and sweat and blood. The sound of a male voice moaning out loud. "Man, this is so good."

My heart was beating so hard, I was afraid it would break out of my ribcage. The glass in my hands dropped in the sink, shattering into pieces. Walls closed in on me. I blinked hard, visions of the past melting into the present. My lungs squeezed into tiny balls.

"Daphne?"

"No!" I yelled, whipping around. My hand reached for the knife in the back of my pants. It wasn't there. Panic choked me. I stepped away from the man in front of me. His features blurred. He was tall and intimidating and male. That was all I saw.

I scrambled back. My feet got tangled in each other and I fell. Pain laced my hip, barely registering under the layers of excruciating memories. Shutting my eyes, I pulled my knees to my chest and tucked my head in, covering it with my arms and making myself as small as possible.

Stay as unnoticeable as possible. It was a lesson Ester had taught a young me. It had stopped working long ago, but it was still entrenched in my head, it seemed.

"No, no, no. Stay away," I mumbled.

It was too much. It was all back. I wasn't safe anymore. I wasn't safe.

I felt his presence getting closer. "Daphne-"

"Stay away. Please stay away. Please, please, please," I begged, knowing that it was all in vain. They never heard my pleas.

"Okay, Okay."

Over my harsh breathing, I heard his heavy footsteps backing away. "I'm not going anywhere near you, okay? I promise... Daphne, it's just me. It's just Nathaniel."

His calm tone slowly but surely cleared the haze in my head.

Minutes ticked by and the man didn't come near. I slowly lowered my arms and raised my head. Blinking, my eyes found dark ones.

Nathaniel. I knew him. It was just Nathaniel. He wouldn't hurt me. It was just Nathaniel. My breathing slowed down, and my heart settled.

Nathaniel, too, was sitting on the floor on the other side of the kitchen, far enough from me. I was still too frazzled to read the look in his eyes. I felt like I was just waking up from a nightmare, and I still didn't know if it was reality or just a dream.

"Nathaniel?" I breathed out in a raspy whisper.

Nathaniel smiled. "It's just me, Daphne. Yeah?"

"Yeah," I tried nodding but my neck felt stiff. "I-..."

Nathaniel nodded, urging me to go on but I shook my head. "Can I- can I stay alone?"

"Sure." He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "How about this? I'm going to change my clothes and head out. I need to go to lunch anyway."

"Okay," I mumbled.

"Unless you don't want me to leave the house? I can go to my room and stay there..." he said, his voice tainted with unease and fear. Fear of what?

"No, no," I rushed out, wanting to be on my own as soon as possible. "You can- you can go. Just go."

Nathaniel flowed to his feet. He threw me one last glance before walking away.

**** *** **** *** ****

"Where's Nathaniel?"

Mark and I were having dinner. He sat across from me at the dining table, his eyes flickering to Nathaniel's empty seat just as they did during lunch. He hadn't said anything then, but now he voiced his thoughts.

"He had lunch with his father," I replied. "And he's invited to a dinner party."

Nathaniel had texted me shortly after lunch time, asking how I was and saying he'd be heading to the party straight from his father's place if I didn't need him to come home.

I had calmed down by then, but shame and stubborn pride made me text him that I was alright and that he could take his time, even though I had wanted him to come home.

He was giving me the space I asked for even though this was his house.

Mark's crestfallen expression as he glanced at Nathaniel's seat had me wishing I told Nathaniel to come home.

But it's not just Mark...is it?

Claire had dropped by before lunch with Cecile and Craig. As soon as she'd seen my face, she had pulled me to the side.

"What's wrong?" she had asked with concern in her dark eyes.

"Nothing," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Daphne..." she said, uncertainly. "Are you okay? Is it Nathaniel? Did he do something? I thought he'd still be here, but he's not..."

My eyes widened. "No, no. He didn't do anything. I just... I just needed some time alone. Don't worry about it. I'm okay."

Claire slowly nodded, looking unconvinced. She glanced back at Craig, who was watching Cecile show Mark her new doll. "Okay, then... but if you don't feel well, I want you to call me, alright? Promise."

I had smiled in a feeble attempt to reassure her. "I'm fine Claire, really. Just go enjoy yourselves."

She had left with her husband and daughter shortly after, and the apartment felt too empty.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts as I stared at Mark across the table. His brown curls were growing too long, almost touching his eyebrows.

"He's probably going to be late," I mumbled, lifting another spoonful of soup, before putting it down. My appetite was nonexistent.

"Don't you want him to be here?" Mark asked, his keen blue eyes watching my reaction closely.

"I-..." I gulped. "I do. I do want him to be here."

"Then why don't you call him and say that?" he asked.

"He's probably having dinner with important people. He won't come just because we ask him to."

The moment these words left my lips, I realized they were a lie. Nathaniel would come, but I'd been replying with short words to his texts all day long until he just gave up.

I just felt so... embarrassed. Ashamed. The way I had cracked in the morning made me feel like I would never amount to anything more. It made me feel so helpless and weak. Like I was still stuck in that disgusting place, never able to escape no matter how far away I go.

I didn't want Nathaniel to see me that way.

Sighing, I pushed the soup aside.

But I did want to have Nathaniel around. The house felt too cold without him, too bland.

"He will," Mark said, his tone confident and his gaze unwavering. "He'll come because you asked him to."

Mark went back to eating while I stared at him, unblinking. When did he become so observant? It seemed that in the weeks since we began living with Nathaniel, he had grown up so much.

My hand moved on its own, reaching for the phone in my pocket. My fingers paused on the screen's keyboard, wondering what to write.

We're having dinner. Should I leave you some? -Daphne

A minute later, my phone dinged in a reply.

Having dinner? -Nathaniel

Yes. Tomato soup. Are you coming back soon? -Daphne

Why? Did you need something? -Nathaniel

Deciding to just spit it out, I wrote back.

We want you to come home. -Daphne

I hit send and held my breath. But he didn't respond. I set my phone on the table, trying to quell my disappointment.

He was probably busy.

Mark and I finished our dinner in silence. I took our bowls to the sink and served some cheesecake for dessert. I had just set our plates on the table when the front door suddenly opened.

I met Mark's wide eyes, then we both stared expectantly at the entrance where a few seconds later, Nathaniel's big frame appeared. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, his breathing slightly labored.

"Hey," he said with a winded grin. "Hope you saved me some soup."

Right then and there, as I smiled at Nathaniel and his grin widened even more than I thought was possible, I knew. There was someone who would always be there for us, someone I could always count on, someone who would always put us first.

Someone that I trusted.

I should've panicked at that revelation. I had never trusted anyone before in my life, other than myself and Mark. Especially not a man.

But Nathaniel I trusted. And I was okay with it.

"You're late," Mark said. Our eyes snapped to him. He picked up his fork and dug into the cheesecake.

Nathaniel chuckled. "Am I? But I'm here now."

While he washed his hands, I poured him some soup. He accepted the bowl with a quiet thanks and sat at the dining table, still slightly breathless.

"Did you run here?" I asked.

"Uh...something like that," he mumbled. "I left in the middle of the party to go for a walk, and ended up somewhere nearby, so..."

"You went for a walk," I asked, spearing a piece of cheesecake.

"Yep."

"At night? In the snow?"

"Mhm," he said, swallowing a mouthful of soup. "I wasn't in the mood to mingle with people anymore. And I felt like taking a walk, so I did."

I shook my head with a smile. Nathaniel and his spur of the moment decisions.

After having dinner and dessert, Nathaniel changed out of his clothes then joined us in the living room. We played monopoly until late at night. No one won the game, but it was clear Nathaniel would have, had we kept going.

He was the business mogul out of the three of us, so it was expected.

"Time to sleep, buddy," I told Mark. It was way past his bedtime, but he looked too bright eyed.

Mark made a face that he rarely ever did, pouting his lips, his brows tugged down in a small frown. But he didn't object as I followed him to the room and made sure he brushed his teeth before going to bed.

I went back to the living room with a small smile. He was getting better at showing his emotions and expressing himself.

"He's getting better, isn't he?" Nathaniel said, handing me a spoon as I sat on the other side of the ice cream carton he was already halfway through. We needed to get some healthy snacks.

"Yes, it's surprising how quickly he's changing," I said, digging through the ice cream for the crunchy peanuts.

"Mark is very resilient," he said. "And stop hoarding the peanuts."

Nathaniel let me steal a chunk of peanuts right under his spoon. "So, how was lunch?"

Nathaniel made a face before loading his spoon with ice cream and stuffing his mouth.

"That bad, huh?" I said.

"That bad. Blake actually brought home a girl who's supposed to be his girlfriend."

"Supposed to be?"

"Well, let's just say she was way too friendly with me," he said with a shudder, as if he was remembering something unpleasant.

I smiled through the tightness in my chest. "He must be in a bad mood, then."

"Who, Blake?" Nathaniel laughed. "Hardly, she was his 'flavor of the month,' his words."

He winced, glancing at me.

I sighed. "Nathaniel, I'm not going to crack just because you mention something remotely related to sex."

I poked the ice cream, looking at the glittering christmas tree.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I said. "I was just... triggered, I guess."

"Don't apologize for it." He hesitated. "Was it something I did?"

If I was to live with him and trust him, I had to be honest when it came to things like this, things that could affect our everyday life.

"I think... I think it was the way you... you know," I said. He frowned. I continued. "The way you reacted to the cake..."

I trailed off, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. His expression cleared up. "Oh."

"Yes. It was nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't know I would've reacted that way."

"Daphne, stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong," he said, the christmas lights softening the shadows on his face. "What do you think about therapy?"

I shook my head, feeling a weight in the pit of my stomach. I did not feel comfortable sharing my experiences with someone else. The only reason I told Nathaniel and Claire the essentials was because they deserved to know. To open up to a stranger and let them into the deepest, darkest corners of my soul filled me with horror.

"No, I don't want that. I don't feel good about it."

"Okay," he said, "okay. I understand. Whatever makes you comfortable."

We were silent for a few minutes, each in their own thoughts, when Nathaniel suddenly said, "how about we work things out on our own. You know... for example you can note down the things that trigger you, and we can look through them and see how to make it better.

"If you don't feel comfortable doing it with me, you can do it with Claire, or just on your own if you want. But I think writing things down on paper is a good first step."

I slowly nodded. I was already having difficulty fitting in at work, because at random times I'd see something that would remind me of that place. I would feel afraid and tense up. Fortunately, so far my reactions had been nothing as dramatic as what had happened this morning.

But I knew I couldn't keep living like this. I needed to sort through the mess inside of me if I wanted to truly move on.

"I think that's a good idea. I'd like to do it and... if you don't mind helping me..."

"Not at all," he said with a genuine smile.

Nathaniel and I fought over the last chunk of crunchy ice cream, our spoons clinking together in our efforts to scoop it up first. He laughed and let me have it. I should've let him have half, but well, it was ice cream.

I relaxed on the couch. Full and peaceful in a way that made me incredibly grateful. I never knew one could be this content.

Nathaniel took the spoons and garbage to the kitchen and came back, plopping down on the couch. I pointed to his belly and chuckled. He had a baby bump.

"Hey, I had too much to eat today," he said, smoothing his hand down his stomach with a small grin.

He bit his lip. "There's one thing I've been thinking about for a while now."

"What thing?"

"Well," he shifted hesitantly in his seat.

"Nathaniel, spit it out."

He leaned forward, turning slightly towards me. "You know how you don't like being touched."

I nodded. He continued, "Maybe we could work through that first. For example, you don't seem to mind Mark's touch, or Claire's, or the children's."

"Hmm. True, I don't really mind the kids or Claire, but if I was taken off guard, even if it was one of them, I think I'd react badly."

"I see," he murmured. "What about me?"

I looked away, feeling heat rising into my cheeks for some reason. "Well..."

"So if you get used to the feeling of touching someone, at least for a short amount of time, it would be good for you. I mean, you're obviously going to have to shake hands and endure a minimal amount of physical contact at some point in the future. So it'd be wise to get used to it now."

"Right," I wiped my hands down my thighs. "I think that if I was in control of the situation, I wouldn't be too affected."

Nathaniel held out his hand toward me, palm up. "What about now? If I ask you to shake my hand."

I gulped, staring at his large hand.

"It's me, Daphne. It's just me," he said. I looked up at his eyes. "You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right? I'd never make you do anything you're not comfortable with. You know that, right?"

I knew it. I knew that like I knew the sky was blue. But my body didn't. It would react. I knew it would.

My hand was already shaking when I reached out for Nathaniel. My gaze flickered from his eyes to his palm, trying to reassure myself that it was indeed him in front of me and not someone else.

I jumped when my fingers made contact with his palm. His skin was warm. My stomach clenched. Looking at him, I pushed through the urge to take my hand back and flattened my palm against his.

It lasted all of five seconds before I pulled my hand back as if his skin burnt me, fisting it against my heaving chest.

I looked at Nathaniel, my heart racing. He curled his fingers in, his eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

"Baby steps, Daphne," he said. "Baby steps."