The Lawson University students extended a warm invitation as the weekend drew near. As the week has dragged on slowly, Bryan's eagerness to continue his studies has added to my sense of fulfilment. Due to the pressure of her examinations and the extra stress of her stalker, Sam's morale and motivation have declined. I made the choice to rent a cottage in a forested region up North for the weekend in order to assist her in getting out of this predicament. It was a charmingly furnished, small space that seemed comfortable to me. The cottage had a mediaeval feel to it with a drawbridge to welcome visitors, old poetic volumes scattered about the space, and a knight shield hung up on the wall. It seemed like walking through those eras, and the change in environment was much-needed.

Sam set her bag down next to her and looked in astonishment at the cottage. She slowly scanned the space, taking in the intricately detailed furnishings and decorations. As I picked up the luggage and brought it to the bedroom, I remarked, "They didn't fully mention that there was a mediaeval theme to the home."

With the mediaeval items, the bedroom was much more subdued and gave off a vibe of a little remote farm. I genuinely have no idea what went through the owner's mind when they decorated the interior.

"My dad used to own one of these," she mentioned in a soft tone as she stroked her hand over an old western saddle. "Too bad he was a deadbeat father," she huffed in an angry undertone.

Deadbeat father? My dad was pretty insufferable, but I wouldn't consider him as a deadbeat father...

She unpacked a hoodie from her luggage as I turned to gaze at her sour expression. "What do you mean by that?" I asked inquisitively while bouncing up and down on the bed to test the springs.

She sat next to me and let out a quiet sigh as she pulled her hoodie over her head. "When I was thirteen, he abandoned my mother and I."

"Do you know why he left?" I asked gently.

"He was essentially compelled to go," she stated. I noticed a small shiver starting at the ends of her fingertips as she struggled to gather the strength to continue her story. She hastily sat on her hands to hide them, and then she continued, "Because he had child pornography in his possession, he was jailed. He was only imprisoned for two years before he was released and... after a few weeks he started to sexually abuse me."

Her eyes were forming large teardrops, which I could see trailing down her cheeks. She had numerous open wounds that had not yet fully healed. She took a big breath and wiped away her tears. "Since my mother divorced him and won custody, I haven't heard from him."

I stayed quiet for a moment trying to organise the thoughts in my head. I felt genuinely bad for her. Knowing her, she deserved better. A better childhood and a father she could've been proud of. I placed a consoling arm around her shoulder and hugged her. My words would only serve as a temporary bandage over her wounds, and I was in no position to make her feel better. "Want some hot chocolate I brought along?" I enquired while grinning slightly. She nodded with a relieving smile. In many ways, I believe she's a lot like me. With a supportive shoulder to lean on when necessary, we heal independently. Receiving words might be misleading and inaccurate, but physically comforting someone and demonstrating your concern has a more profound effect on their healing.

Before leaving the room I noticed how she snuggled herself underneath the covers and peeked only her eyes out. She reminded me of a little lost kitten; fragile, insecure and, well, adorable. It will take some time before she regains her inner raven back.

As I waited for the kettle to boil, I exited the cottage and stood on the balcony overlooking a lake. As I observed the vibrant view, the lake and the sun came together with such beauty, as if they were both so engrossed in their everlasting waltz as to not even notice the peaks.

"Just out of curiosity, what will be the sleeping arrangements? Considering your lack of sharing abilities," Sam's voice softly tickled my ears as I turned to look at her.

With a slight tilt of my head, I grinned. "Don't worry, I'll take the couch."

I walked back inside and mixed the boiling water with the hot chocolate and handed her over her cup. "You're not sleeping on the couch," she sternly said as we walked over to the bedroom. "For once just put your quirks aside," she chuckled.

"They're not quirks," I mentioned. "But sure, just no touching."

"Have you always been like this?" she asked as she climbed back in under the covers. "Why don't you like people touching you?"

"I don't know, I just feel uncomfortable," I let out. "It's probably caused by my anxiety. But I don't really care for it though. It all seems overrated to me."

"What? So any physical connection is overrated for you?" Sam asked as she softly laughed.

"Touch is only needed when it matters," I explained as I placed my mug on the side table. "When you had your anxiety attack, you needed to feel someone. You needed to know that the things around you were real," I continued.

"I'm starting to understand you more, but I have a feeling that's going to take a long time until I fully understand you," she grinned as she closed her eyes and took a sip of her hot chocolate. "You really don't make good hot chocolate," she laughed as she placed her mug on the side table.

"How else would you make it? It literally says on the instructions to 'just add water'," I frowned.

"Gross!" she laughed. "You're at least supposed to add in some milk," she explained.

"You'll have to teach me then," I said as I let out a chuckle. "Because this taste like shit,"I added as I look down at the brown, watery substance with chucks of undissolved powder floating on top.

I turned the speaker on softly as Sam and I lay on the bed head to toe looking up at the ceiling filled with blank thoughts while Over the Rainbow softly played in the background.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.

"I don't know what colour your hair is," I expressed with a frown on my face, counting the wooden panels on the ceiling.

She abruptly sat up and looked quite confused. "Huh?" she mouthed.

"The colour of your hair, what is it?" I repeated, slowly lifting my body into a sitting position.

"It's brown?" she said in a questioned tone of voice.

"But there are blonde streaks in it," I mentioned, pointing at her hair.

"Yeah, it's called highlights," she chuckled with a grin on her face.

I don't understand why girls colour their hair.

"I would give up everything I own just to be in your head for one day," she grinned as she scooted closer to me.

"Why would you do that? You'd lose quite a few things like important documents, your money, your car-" I explained with a frown on my face before getting cut off by her.

"It's just an expression, Wolf," she said as she jokingly rolled her eyes.

"Don't snap at me. I didn't know," I said in a soft tone as I looked down between my legs.

"Can we change the music, you always listen to this song," she asked as she scrolled through my phone looking for other music. "You only have this one song on your phone?"

"Why would I want to listen to something else?" I asked confused by her question.

"You're impossible sometimes, you know that right?" she said with a smile, looking quite sarcastic.

"I don't mean to..." I sighed, feeling as if I'd done something wrong.

"Give me your hand," she abruptly said as she held out her hand.

With slight hesitation, I placed my hand in hers. Her hands were radiating warmth being as gentle as her heart and as free as her spirit.

"Now close your eyes," she said with a smirked smile.

I did as asked and sat in a brief moment of silence.

She held my hand firmly, warming up my ice-cubed hand. "Think of your worst fear," she whispered with a calm aura surrounding her.

My eyes widened with anger as I pulled my hand back toward my body. "I don't want to," I growled as I stood up from the bed.

"Wolf?" she said with a confused frown on her face as she looked up at me.

"No! I don't want to go back and relive my parents dying in front of me!" I yelled as the grieving pain of my parent's death cluttered my mind.

Those traumatic recollections are novels with pages, complex and horrifying, which I put on the shelf to collect dust. I locked up those painful memories a long time ago, and I don't plan on opening them soon.

"I- I didn't know!" she pleaded, looking concerned at my outburst.

"Just leave me alone," I demanded as I looked out of the window, hiding the tears forming in my eyes.

"You can't push me away the whole time, Wolf," she said in a calm tone of voice as she slowly stood up.

I collapsed onto the bed, feeling hollow but also flooded with feelings. Sam appeared concerned but unfazed. I was too emotionally drained to be concerned when she held my body. Her ear listened to my frantic heartbeat as she gently laid her body on mine. She lifted her head and placed a reassuring touch on my cheek, brushing away my tears.

"You're safe, Wolf," she whispered as she squeezed her hands underneath me, holding me tightly.

'You're safe'. I never thought about of feeling safe again since my parents passed away. I had never found a person that comforted me as she does. She felt warm and with her... I did feel safe. I gingerly wrapped my arms around her, feeling my heartbeat slowing down, synchronising with hers. It was beautiful. It felt as if everything around us has disappeared and the only sound echoing was our heartbeat.

"Somewhere, over the rainbow," she sang softly. "Way up high, and the dreams you dream of, once a lullaby again..."

My heart began to melt in a way it had never done before. Every night before I fell asleep in my mother's trusting arms, she would sing this song to me. Since she left, I've never felt safe, and for the first time, I felt shielded by a force far greater than myself.