Numb. Relieved. Tired. I didn't know what I felt, just that I wanted to go home, bury myself under ten blankets and sleep.

I exhausted all my supply of tears on Nathaniel's sweater. Finally, I pulled away and looked up. The left side of his face was scratched, the biggest scrape stretching from his hairline to near his eye.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my throat sore. "Were you hurt in the accident?"

"You're..." Nathaniel shook his head. His eyes shimmered. He gulped and hugged me to him again, his breathing ragged, his cheek pressed to my head. "I'm okay."

"Mark?" I asked.

"He's safe. He's home."

I nodded, wishing I could burrow even closer. I felt so safe. I would never take this feeling for granted again.

"Nathaniel."

Nathaniel raised his head from mine. I glanced over my shoulder. Chris stood nearby, an uncertain medic next to him.

"Hey," Chris said, walking closer. His eyes looked over my face and neck and darkened. "I'm sorry, Daphne."

"It's not your fault," I said, trying my best to give him a smile. It felt lopsided with one side of my face in ruins.

Chris shook his head. He motioned to the ambulance. "You should go get checked in."

Nathaniel squeezed my shoulder, bringing my gaze to him."Let's get you to the hospital."

I really didn't want to go anywhere but home. But the pain was reaching a crescendo, and I knew soon I might not be able to hold it in.

I nodded, but I couldn't take a step away from Nathaniel.

"I'll come with you," Nathaniel said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Relieved, I made it to the ambulance on my own two feet before my knees could fail me.

Nathaniel helped me into the ambulance, then he and Chris had a quiet word before he jumped in next to me. I waved at Chris with a smile before the medic closed the door. Poor Chris, he looked beaten up with guilt.

The ride to the hospital was quiet. The medic did some first aid and gave me water, but I didn't want to take the blanket off. I was glad for Nathaniel's presence. He understood what I couldn't put into words, and told the medic I would get checked in the hospital by a female doctor.

It was all a blur after that. The only clear point in it all was Nathaniel.

Once in the hospital, I went through countless exams and scans. All the nurses and the doctor were women, much to my relief.

It was late at night when I was finally settled in a room.

"Can't I just go home?" I asked Nathaniel, tugging on the collar of the hospital gown. It reminded me of when Mark had been hurt. Not very good memories.

He sat down on the bed beside me and sighed. "The doctor wants to keep an eye on you for tonight. She's right to be worried. You were in an accident, and then you were..." he shook his head, the scowl on his face deepening. "You're hurt. A night in the hospital won't hurt."

"Okay," I mumbled. Silence claimed the room. It was a nice room, with its own bathroom. I had used it earlier, and my reflection in the mirror was something out of a horror movie.

The left side of my face was all shades of purple and blue. My lip was split and swollen. My left eye was swollen. A white bandage covered my right cheekbone, where the bullet had grazed. The wound was deep enough to require stitches. It would leave a scar.

My left side ribs were a big bruise that hurt everything I breathed. Gouges marked my chest from where Benne's nails had scoured me. And the cherry on top were the purple finger marks around my neck and my wrist.

Laying down in bed, I wondered how Nathaniel still didn't run away to the hills.

The medication they had me on numbed the pain to a pleasant numbness. But it was making me woozy and sleepy.

Nathaniel sat down in a chair next to my bed. Even with his face blurry to my vision, he looked sad and angry.

I wanted to tell him it was all over.

But it didn't feel that way. Benne's words stayed with me. Once a whore, you'll always be a whore. I didn't give a damn about what that sick bastard thought. But those words... It was as if they'd echoed something deep inside of me. Something that still tethered me to my past.

But there was nothing I could do about it now. Give it time.

Or maybe there was. The therapist's card that Nathaniel had given me flashed in my mind. Where was my wallet anyway? My precious ID was in there. I had lost my ID.

The thought filled me with dread.

I tried sitting up, my heart racing. I had to find my ID. A distant part of my brain reasoned that the ID was replaceable. The pain medication they'd dosed me with must be muddying up my mind. But the hazy panic refused to subside.

"Easy," Nathaniel said, pushing me back gently on the pillow.

I held onto his hand on my shoulder. "I lost my wallet. The ID is in there. And the card. The therapist's card."

"It's okay. we'll find it," he said, brushing my hair back. "Relax Daphne. We'll find the ID and I have another card for the therapist."

I laid my head back and looked at Nathaniel. "Don't go anywhere."

"I won't, love," he said, his hand kept brushing my hair back. I closed my eyes. It felt nice.

Oblivion bellowed, tugging me into its comforting arms. My eyes fluttered. Nathaniel stood by my head, not smiling. He should be smiling.

I loved him.

I should tell him that I love him before something bad happened again. I had to tell him.

"Nathaniel," I mumbled, my voice faint to my own ears. He leaned closer. Black edged my vision.

"I love you."

I didn't know if those were the words that made it past my lips. Sleep took over, and I gladly gave up fighting it.

*** **** ***

The sun woke me up.

My eyes flickered open then immediately shut. I turned my head away from the beam of light that sneaked through the window and fell directly across my face, wincing at the bite of pain on my left cheek. It felt like it was the size of a watermelon.

The room looked more cozy under the light of the day. Or maybe being drugged the night before had made everything seem colder.

The walls were a warm taupe color. A flat screen hung across from the plush bed. The window that stretched along one wall was partly covered with a pale green curtain. A beige colored couch and an armchair sat in one corner of the room. They looked comfortable enough to sleep in, but Nathaniel was asleep on a chair next to my bed, hunched over, his chin on his chest, and one of his hands holding mine over the bed covers.

He could not be comfortable sleeping that way. I squeezed his hand. He jumped, straightening in the chair, blinking his eyes awake at once. They focused on me.

"Hey," he said, rubbing a hand down his face. Dark smudges tainted the skin beneath his eyes, and the scruff he usually kept daily in check was close to a beard. He looked rough, tired, and so handsome it made my chest ache.

"You should've slept on the couch," I said, my voice coming out scratchy. My throat felt raw and my mouth tasted horrible. I wrinkled my nose.

Nathaniel stood up. He pushed a button next to my head, and reached on the bedside table for a tumbler with a straw. He handed it to me. Next to it was a paper bag with what looked like bottles and a bouquet of flowers.

"Claire was here," he said, noting my look. "She was here early in the morning. She left after making me promise I'd tell her when you wake up."

I accepted the water and sucked in the precious liquid through the straw, soothing my throat and washing away the bad taste in my mouth. I sighed. Much better.

"She doesn't have to come," I said, giving him back the water. "We'll go home today, right?"

"That's what the doctor said," Nathaniel replied, sitting on the chair. His eyes fell on my throat, dark and intense. "We'll see."

A knock sounded on the door. The doctor and a nurse came in. They took all sorts of readings, and asked all sorts of questions. Nathaniel stepped outside for a moment as they checked me. I was grateful. The day before, I hadn't cared much about being half naked in front of him while the doctor looked me over. All I wanted was to have him nearby.

Now that the worst was over, I was back to being myself. Partly, anyway.

The doctor pronounced me well enough to go home despite Nathaniel's fussing. She reassured him that I wouldn't keel over and die if I left the hospital.

"I want to be home right now, Nathaniel," I told him after we were alone again.

He sat down on his chair and held his head in his hands, his shoulders shrugging with a big, shuddering breath.

"Nathaniel?" I sat up in bed despite the biting pain in my ribs. Reaching for him, I put my hand on his knee.

He covered it with both of his and raised it to his lips. Lifting his eyes to meet mine, I couldn't breathe at the anguish in them.

"It's fine," I said. "I'm alright. I can stay longer if it'll make you feel better."

He shook his head. "It's not... The doctor said you're good to go home. I'm just... Yesterday was the worst day of my life. I almost went insane. Please don't ever do this again."

Tears stung my eyes. I smiled a little. "Okay. I'll try my best not to get kidnapped again."

He chuckled, and the cracks in my heart mended a little. Rubbing a hand down his face, he kissed my knuckles again and grinned. "I better tell Claire you're up. She's not going to shut up about it for the next month if I don't."

He pulled out his phone and texted Claire. I looked at the window. I wanted to pinch myself. I almost felt like this was a dream and I would wake up in that room again with Benne over me. I shook my head. No. Benne was locked up in some cell, I had the scar to prove it.

"I can't believe it's only been one day. It felt longer."

Nathaniel grunted. "Don't remind me."

"By the way, what happened to the bodyguards? Were they hurt in the accident?"

"No. The semi hit our car. The bodyguards swerved away in time. The only reason we're not dead is that the truck wasn't speeding. They probably weren't trying to kill us."

I shuddered. "Yeah."

"Chris is beating himself up over it," Nathaniel said, putting his phone on the table. "He says he should've expected something like this would happen."

I shook my head. "He shouldn't. It's not his fault. How would he have known they'd do something like this? Short of keeping us inside our home guarded twenty four seven, there wasn't much he could've done to prevent this."

Nathaniel sighed. He raised one black eyebrow. "Being locked up inside our home twenty four seven doesn't sound too bad right now, does it?"

He looked half serious. I chuckled, then winced, holding my ribs. "Don't make me laugh. No, we are not going to stay cooped up in our home for the foreseeable future."

He sighed. "That's what I thought."

His eye fell on my cheek. I touched it. The bullet scar. It was bandaged.

"It's going to leave a scar," I said. "That's what the doctor said."

"You're alive," Nathaniel said. "Scars or not, you're alive. You survived. That's what matters."

Nathaniel gave me a bottle of pressed juice from the paper bag Claire had brought, watching over me until I drank half of it.

"More," he said.

"No," I replied firmly. "This thing is half a gallon."

He opened his mouth. I handed him the drink and gave him a look. "I'm going to throw up if I drink anymore, and my ribs can't handle that."

He closed his mouth with a defeated look. I bit back an amused smile. He was more of a mother hen than I thought.

"Thank you," I told him. "Thank you for coming for me."

"I always will," he said off-handedly, as if those words didn't burn a brand on my heart. He narrowed his eyes. "By the way. That guy said you promised him a deal."

Luke. I groaned. "Yes. I was trying to get him to help. He doesn't deserve it, but he did help me."

"Mhm. I'll see what I can do," Nathaniel said, shaking his head. "I don't like him anymore than I like the others. Probably less. But he's the reason we found you so quickly. Chris talked to him, and he has some evidence that will incapacitate Benne, so that should make bartering a deal for him easier."

I nodded. "Thank you."

He took my hand and played with my fingers for a few minutes. The hospital was quiet outside our door, and the peaceful atmosphere made me sleepy again. Or maybe it was the pain meds.

"So..." Nathaniel began, "yesterday, you were kind of drugged up. Do you remember anything before falling asleep?"

Heat rose to my cheeks and sleep went right out the window. "What exactly are you referring to?" I knew exactly what he was referring to.

He narrowed his eyes, a smile lighting up his face. "You know what I'm talking about. Did you mean it?"

I huffed. "Why would I say something I didn't mean?"

"So you mean it." His grin split up his face. "Say it again."

I narrowed my eyes. "You say it again."

"I love you," he shot back quickly. "I love you."

My breath caught. My heart couldn't handle him this early in the morning.

"Well, thank you," I said with a teasing smile.

"Daphne..."

"Nathaniel..."

He shook his head. His phone rang, interrupting whatever he was about to say. He picked it up and groaned. "It's Claire. She probably wants me to help carry the pounds of food she brought for you."

"Oh God," I mumbled.

Nathaniel pointed a finger at me. "We're not done with this conversation yet."

He stood up and walked to the door. As he reached for the doorknob, I called, "hey, Nathaniel?"

He looked over his shoulder, his face already looking much lighter than it'd been yesterday and earlier. "Yes?"

"I love you," I said, my heart quickening at the words. But they felt right, so right.

Nathaniel grinned. He walked back to me, framed my face with his hands and kissed me. "I know," he said, his dark eyes soft up close. "And I love you."

*** **** ***

My ribs were freshly bruised, half my face was a lovely bluish shade, a bandage covered the gruesome cut on the other half, finger marks decorated my neck and wrist.

With Mark's arm still in a cast and his ribs still sore, we made quite the couple, my brother and I.

It was no wonder Nathaniel and Claire hovered over us during our waking moments.

"You shouldn't be moving up and about," Claire said, wagging a spatula at me. "It's only been two days. Go lay down. Now."

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled, going back to my spot on the couch next to Mark.

His look held a slightly amused glint. "You shouldn't be complaining," he whispered to me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Those were the exact same words I told him countless times when he'd first been hurt and he complained about having to be coddled and sitting around all day.

I huffed, looking longingly at the cake Claire was whipping. I wanted to make my hands busy. Staying idle all day long was going to make me insane, and unlike Mark, I could only read for so many hours before I was bored out of my mind.

But baking required moving around, and as much as I hated to admit it, Claire was right; moving around made my ribs unbearably sore by the end of the day.

An idea struck.

Claire hummed, pouring the batter in a round mold. She turned to put it in the hot oven, her back to us, and I sneaked off to my room.

The small embroidery kit I'd bought for Nathaniel's gift months ago was in the drawer of my bedside table. I took it, took one of the plain shirts I owned, and made my way to the living room.

Fortunately for me, Claire still had her back to us, humming as she rinsed off the dishes. She hadn't noticed my little escapade. Mission successful.

I sat down in my spot, feeling the strain of my sneaking on my ribs already. Mark barely glanced over before returning to his book.

Other than the time I'd made Nathaniel's birthday gift, the memories I had of needles and threads were tainted by the House. I had mended clothes and added embellishment to dresses back there, and it was one of the very few, if not the only, good things I remembered from that place.

I enjoyed it. Why should the House take it away from me? It shouldn't. I would make sure it didn't. I would just have to make more good memories to replace the bad, and soon I was sure that holding a needle wouldn't remind me of the House.

By the time Claire joined us in the living room, I had a tiny daisy embroidered on the collar of the pale blue shirt.

"Oh, that is so cute!" Claire said, sitting down on the armchair, she reached for the shirt and looked at the daisy. "You did this?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. She was looking at the little flower as if it was a masterpiece. I felt slightly embarrassed. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Sweetie, this is beautifully well done."

"Thanks," I said with a smile. "It's nothing special. Anyone could do it."

She looked at me like I was insane. "Actually, no. Not anyone could do it. You're very good at this."

I looked between her and the embroidery. "Oh. Thanks?"

She shook her head. The front door opened. It must be Nathaniel.

"I brought the goods," he called out before walking into sight. Mark and I looked over our shoulders. Nathaniel was carrying a box.

"Is that sushi?" Mark asked.

"Yep," Nathaniel put the box on the island and shrugged off his suit jacket.

After he knew that Mark and I had never tasted sushi before, he'd suggested we had it for dinner.

I couldn't wait to taste it. Mark and I struggled to our feet.

"Stay put," Nathaniel and Claire said as one. Mark and I sat down.

"I'll bring it over," Nathaniel said.

Claire helped him get plates, and they set up the box on the coffee table in front of us. Mark and I peered at it.

"They look smaller than I thought," Mark said.

Nathaniel handed us forks. Mark and I reached for the chopsticks. I wanted the full experience.

"By the time you learn how to use it, Claire will have finished the whole box," Nathaniel said.

Claire grunted with an affronted expression, her cheeks bloated and her chopsticks already holding another piece in front of her mouth.

I laughed and immediately regretted it. Ow, my ribs. I really should learn by now.

Sushi was a success for Mark. I only liked certain types. Claire and Nathaniel laughed, calling my taste that of a child when I almost gagged tasting the ones with raw fish. It just tasted weird. I had no idea how they could eat it. Even Mark liked it.

I looked around. Nathaniel and Mark were laughing at Claire, who was hoarding all the sushi pieces with raw fish that I couldn't eat to her plate like a giddy child. The light glanced off Claire's hair as she reached for more. The smell of sushi and soya sauce tickled my nose, the tangy taste of pickled ginger pricked my taste buds. I smiled.

Another memory. Hopefully one of many more to come.

As the night darkened, Claire left, Mark went to bed, Nathaniel cleaned up the kitchen and disappeared to his room to take a shower. I stayed on the couch, looking at the TV without really seeing.

The true crime show I'd turned on was interesting. I'd developed an unhealthy obsession with them. But right now, I couldn't focus on it. I didn't know why. I just felt bushy-tailed and energetic. Maybe it was the food.

I picked up my embroidery and distracted myself with it, listening to the show in the background.

Nathaniel emerged minutes later, freshly showered. Water dripped on the towel around his neck. He was very bad at drying his hair.

"We're out of crunchy peanut butter and chocolate," he called from the kitchen, his head half disappearing inside the fridge. "Cookie dough or strawberry?"

"Cookie dough," I said. "I don't know why we keep buying the strawberry one. No one really likes it."

He chuckled, joining me with the ice cream carton and two spoons.

"I don't know. I guess we just get one of every flavor," he said, putting the ice cream between us and sitting slowly so as to not jostle me. "We never throw it away, though."

"That's because we don't like wasting food," I said. "But it's always the last to be eaten."

"True."

I put aside the shirt, making sure the needle was safely inside the box. My spoon came out with a big chunk of cookie dough on the first try. I grinned triumphantly at Nathaniel.

He smiled, shaking his head. "Always lucky." He nodded his head to the shirt and embroidery kit box. "Claire said you're pretty good at it."

"Mhm." I swallowed a mouthful of ice cream. "I was actually thinking...I've seen some of the college programs online."

"Anything interesting?"

"A few," I said. Then I sighed. "Actually, a lot. I'm lost. I don't know what I should even consider. If I should even consider it at this point."

"Do you want to?"

I nodded. "Yes. I want to give it a shot."

"Then go ahead. You're going to have to get your GED first, anyway. It'll give you time to think things through."

"True," I said.

We ate in silence, broken only by the voice of the narrator of the TV show.

"It's funny, you know," I said, without taking my eyes off the screen. "Thinking about the future used to make me break out in cold sweat. After what happened, it kind of lessened. It didn't disappear, but it's not nearly as intense as it used to."

"Why do you think that is?" he asked, digging his spoon in for another bite.

"I think it put things into perspective?" I shrugged. "I don't know. It just made me aware of what is really important, I guess, what I really wanted to have in my life in the future."

"And what's that?"

"A lot. Some things I can control. Others I can't, but all I could do is try my best for them," I replied. "People are the most important, and I have them. Mark, Claire, Chris..."

I turned my head to look at him, his gaze was already fixed on me. "You," I finished.

He swallowed. "Is that your reply?" he asked. "For the question I asked the other night before the accident."

I smiled. "Yes."

He grinned and leaned his head closer, brushing his nose against mine. "It took you a long time."

I snorted. "A few days is hardly a long time."

"It was for me," he said, kissing me. His smile lit up the world. "Thank you. For giving us the chance to build a home together."

I smiled. That sounded nice. A home.

Home means different things for different people. I was on the way to finding my own meaning. And Nathaniel would be with me every step of the way.

--- ---- ---

And it's over!

Before you ask: Yes, there will be a sequel!! 

Daphne's story is far from over, so don't worry.

Follow me on Instagram to find out as soon as I get started on the second book! (my username is: when_mia_writes)

Thank you all for reading. I appreciate every single one of you for taking the time to leave comments! I love reading them. 

I hope you enjoy my other stories. 

Much love <3 <3 <3

M.B.