82 "rock heart"

I didn't know what day it was anymore.

The light changed, the room darkened, then brightened again. That was all I knew. Sleep came in pieces. When I woke up, I didn't feel rested—just returned. Like being dragged back into a body I didn't want.

Walker sat on the edge of the bed every morning.

"Baby," he'd say, voice breaking just a little. "You gotta eat something."I couldn't answer. I didn't trust my voice. I didn't trust anything that came out of me anymore.On the fourth day, I heard Patsy's feet before I saw her. Soft steps. Careful ones.

"Mama?"I stared past her. If I looked at her, I knew I'd shatter. "You wanna play?" she asked. "Just a little?" My chest hurt. Like something was caving in. She waited. Then quieter, "Are you okay?" I didn't answer. Her voice broke. "Are you... broken?" That word split me open.Tears came fast, ugly, unstoppable. I turned my face into the pillow.

"Get her out Walker!" I whispered.

He stepped closer. I felt it. "Willie—"

"I said get her out!" I screamed. Panic ripped through me. "Please—please—get her out!"Patsy started crying. Real crying. The kind that claws. A cry that a mother should run to. But I didn't. Walker lifted her. She screamed my name like I was leaving her forever before The door shut. I could still hear her sobs in the other room. The horror guilted me. I sobbed until my throat burned. Until my body hurt more than it already did. Bruises screamed when I moved. My skin still remembered hands that weren't supposed to be there. I killed a man. Again. He wasn't my first... who knew if he'd be my last... when I close my eyes I see his face. His grin. I can still feel his hands on my throat. On my legs as he pried them open... I was distraught.

After hours of on and off pity Eventually, I got up. I wrapped a robe around myself like it could hold me together then walked downstairs. That's when I heard him."I don't give a damn what they printed!" my father shouted. "It's a lie!"My stomach dropped. "I didn't raise a racist!" he yelled. Something shattered. His phone. The wall. I froze halfway down the stairs, hugging myself like a child. He turned and saw me.His face didn't change. "You know, you caused a shit show!" he said. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"The whole state, god! The whole fuckin country thinks I'm a racist," he continued, stepping toward me. "My daughter beat a man to death because he was Native."

I shook my head. "No...n..no Daddy..I didn't—"

"You ruined me," he snapped. "Do you know what this looks like? You drunk. In an alley. Opening your legs—"

"No!!" I sobbed. "Please! He hurt me. Ask Rip. Ask anyone."

"That's not what witnesses said," he barked. "They said you went after him,Calling him slurs! Said you used to do that in high school!."I grabbed his shirt, like I used to when I was little. Like if I held on tight enough, he'd remember I was his."Please," I cried. "Please believe me... he forced me daddy! .... daddy! Please! Listen to me!! he hurt me!! Daddy!! He hurt-"

The slap came fast. My head snapped sideways. Pain exploded across my face. I collapsed against the stairs, holding my cheek, shaking so hard I thought I might stop breathing. I stared up at him... like a terrified puppy"I should've listened to your sister," he said coldly. "I never should've trusted you."I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just shook.My father got down to my level, his finger in my face. "You're fucking fired. You better get your fuckin shit out of my office. I should've never looked in your direction. I should've never found you in them fuckin woods! I should've left you there!" I've never seen him so angry. His finger pointed straight into my black eye, into my shaking sight. "You've ruined everything I've ever worked for" he grabbed my cheeks rough. "I will never forget this. You disappoint me" tears trickled down my wounded cheeks. My body was vibrating beyond compare... that's whenRip cleared his throat behind him. "Sir... your press secretary's here."John scoffed. "Great. rip? Get this thing out of my face." He shoved my cheeks as he stepped back. I coward even more on those wooden steps. Rip stepped toward me, gentle hands. "Come on, peanut."I didn't fight him. I didn't feel anything but horror. He helped me into bed, lifted my legs, tucked the blanket around me the. He turned to leave."Please," I whispered. "Please don't leave me alone." I sobbedRip sighed... "Willie..."

"Please!" I begged. . "Okay.." slowly he laid beside me, pulling me into his chest. I curled into him like I was five years old."I'm sorry," I whispered over and over. "I'm so sorry." He didn't tell me to stop. He just held me. My hands grasped his clothing as I sobbed against his chest. He rubbed my back as soothing a he knew how to. "You've been through this before peanut... you'll be okay.. it'll just take time..." as I laid on him I could feel something solid in his pocket. Slowly he took it out. It was a heart shaped rock... I knew that rock.. I remember the damn rock. "...you.. have that?" I sniffled. Rip nodded "I told you I'd keep it forever..." he held it in his palm. It was very smooth now. Like he's had it in his pocket for decades. "...I.. I  Can't  believe.." "It's just a rock darlin" rip chuckled.  "I know.. but.. it meant a lot to me.."

"At the time it did. Now you've got more things that should mean a lot to you... and listen peanut.. I know you're hurting.. I know you're scared.. but you have A baby girl waiting for you. She can't watch her mama suffering anymore.."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I know.." I whispered. "I'm trying.."

"I know you are.. but you gotta be tough. And I know you're sweet, gentle and quiet.. but for your daughter you have to man up a little bit.. just for a little while" his hand ran up my back and shoulder. Almost like I was his child he hadn't held in years. I took his words. Every meaningful bit of it...

...

I didn't sleep.My body laid there, curled into Rip's side, but my mind floated somewhere above the room. I could hear breathing. His. Mine. I counted it like numbers on a wall. One. Two. Three. If I stopped counting, I was scared I'd disappear completely. At some point, Rip left.I didn't notice when.The space beside me went cold. That was how I knew.

Morning came, but it didn't feel like morning. Light crept across the floor, touched the bed, then slid up the wall like it was looking for me. It didn't find me.Walker came in quietly.He always did now. Like loudness might break me.

"Baby," he said.

I didn't look at him.

He sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped. I felt it, distantly, like it was happening to someone else."You wanna drink some water," he whispered. "Just a sip."A cup touched my lips.I didn't open my mouth.He didn't get mad. He never did. "Okay," he said softly. "Later then."Time stopped meaning anything.Sometimes I stared at the wall. Sometimes at my hands. They didn't feel like mine. They looked wrong. Too small. Too pale. I kept expecting them to move without me telling them to.My thoughts didn't come in sentences anymore. Just pieces.

I ruined everything.I killed someone.Daddy hates me.

The words didn't hurt. They just existed.Walker talked to me anyway.He told me about the weather. About a horse throwing a shoe. About Patsy drawing a picture of "Mama and Daddy and Papa" with stick arms too long. "She keeps askin' when you'll come play," he said once, voice cracking. "I told her soon."

Soon felt like a lie. On the third day, Patsy climbed onto the bed by herself. She smelled like syrup. She pressed her cheek against my arm. "Mama," she whispered. "I'm right here."I didn't move. Her fingers curled into my robe. Tiny. Warm. Real.

"Daddy says you're sick," she said. "But you don't look sick." I wanted to answer. God, I wanted to. My mouth wouldn't work.Her lip trembled. "Did I do somethin' bad?"Something broke then—but not all the way. Just a crack. Tears slid sideways into my hair.Walker scooped her up gently. "No, sweetheart. Mama loves you." I loved her. I loved her so much it felt sickening.

That night, the memories came back without asking. Not like pictures. Like feelings.Pressure. Fear. The sound of my own breathing too loud. My body locking up like it had when I was fifteen. Like it had learned that fighting didn't work. All in my dreams. I curled tighter, nails digging into my arms until Walker caught my wrists. "Hey," he said, panicked. "Hey..Willie...look at me." I didn't see him."I'm here," he kept saying. "You're safe. You're home." Safe felt like a word people used when they didn't know what else to say.

"I can't feel anything," I finally whispered.

Walker froze.

"What do you mean, baby?"

"I don't feel my body," I said. "I don't feel real."He pulled me into his chest, heartbeat strong and steady."That's okay," he said. "That's your mind protectin' you."I nodded, even though I didn't understand. I stood up.Walker looked at me like he was afraid to breathe. I walked into the bathroom. Looked at myself in the mirror.My eyes were empty. Flat. Like glass left out in the cold. There were bruises I didn't remember getting.I touched my face.Nothing.I sat on the shower floor and let the water run until it went cold. I didn't cry. I didn't think. I just waited for something to come back.When I finally stepped out, Walker wrapped me in a towel like I might fall apart."I'm sorry.." I told him quietly.He nodded. "That's enough for today."

"I'm so weak" I whimpered. "Nah mama.. you ain't weak... you're just tired.. you just.. dealing with a lot"

"Are you gonna leave me? Cuz I'm a killer?" I asked as my voice trembled. Walker gently patted my skin dry with a towel. Walker chuckled "no blondie. I ain't gonna leave you for being a killer. I'm a killer too remember?" His hands held my cheeks in the most loving way possible. "And I would kill for you.i would kill Again. And again. And again. If it were for you" he said with his nose against mine. "Thank you" I said simply....