Chapter 3 The Night I Fell

ASHLEIGH

MAY, 2014

AGE 10

I can’t sleep.

The mattress in my new room is too soft and smells too clean… too rich.

It's nothing like the coarse, torn-up couch at Uncle Sean’s.

My whole body still waits for the next slap that never comes.

Two nights ago I accidentally spilled his beer across the rug, and he backhanded me so hard my head hit the wall and everything went fuzzy.

I remember thinking I would die from the pain, but here I am, hiding the little scar above my left eyebrow with my fringe.

Early this morning, it was the loud, banging knock that woke Uncle Sean and me up.

Mrs. Harper from Child Services stood in the doorway with two police officers behind her, wearing a very huge frown.

I remember Uncle Sean’s face going drastically white. He didn’t even fight when they took me.

Mum’s been gone for years. In and out of jail, in and out of strangers’ beds.

She forgets my birthday, forgets to pick me up from school, forgets I exist.

I don't know who my dad is either. Mum never talked about him before.

Mrs. Harper drove me across the city in her clean car. She smelled yummy, like vanilla cake, and talked softly.

“You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she kept saying. She told me nice things… things like I was going to have a new family, one that would never hurt me and would care for me.

I believed her.

We pulled up to a big house with lots of windows and a beautiful garden.

It looked like the houses on TV where nobody ever yells because everyone loves each other.

My legs shook when I stepped out of the car because I was nervous, but Mrs. Harper took my hand, and we walked up the path together.

Nobody had held my hand since I was really little.

The front door opened a few seconds after Mrs. Harper knocked.

A woman with kind eyes and dark black hair stood there, smelling nice.

She looked friendly and crouched down so we could see eye-to-eye.

“Hi, Ashleigh,” she said. “I’m Adeline.”

Behind her stood a tall man with a serious face. He waved awkwardly, but his voice was gentle.

“I’m Mike. Welcome home.”

A movement behind him caught my attention, and I glanced past Mike.

The source of distraction was none other than a boy in the background, who looked a little older than me.

His hair was black like Adeline’s, his face as serious as Mike's, and he looked at me with those scary dark eyes like he didn't believe I was standing there.

“This is Zayn,” Adeline said. “Your new big brother. He'll take care of you.”

Zayn didn’t smile, but he tilted his chin at me, and something warm lit up in my chest.

For the first time, Safety had a face. And it was his.

They gave me a room with pink walls and a large, real bed filled with stuffed teddies and fluffy pillows.

Adeline tucked me in later that night, patting my hair and kissing me goodnight.

Now I lie here in the dark, staring at the ceiling of this strange new house, unable to sleep.

The house is so quiet; if a pin dropped, I'd hear it loud and clear.

When footsteps start down the hall, my whole body freezes in fear.

I pull the duvet up to my chin and squeeze my eyes shut, terrified it’s Uncle Sean coming to take me back.

My room door creaks open, and soft footsteps cross the room, stopping right beside my bed.

“I know you’re awake.”

It's Zayn. His voice is low and gentle. “It’s okay. You can open your eyes. I won’t hurt you.”

Slowly, I open my eyes and peek at him. He’s standing there holding a glass of milk and a cookie wrapped in a paper towel.

“I figured you might have trouble sleeping,” he says, setting them on the nightstand. “Mum says warm milk always helps.”

I sit up, silently watching him. I haven’t spoken a single word since I got here.

“My room’s next door,” he adds. “If you have nightmares, or… anything. Just knock.”

I still don’t answer.

“Goodnight, Ashleigh.” Zayn turns toward the door.

“Thank you,” I whisper after him quickly.

Zayn pauses and looks back, giving me a small smile. “You’re one of us now. A Richardson. And nobody’s ever going to hurt you again.”

He closes the door gently.

I don't understand why that statement makes me feel much better, but it does.

I drink the milk and eat the cookie.

Then I fall asleep without being afraid.

I guess Adeline is right. Warm milk really does always help.

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“It’s easy, Ash. You just pedal and steer. I’ll hold the back so you don’t fall.” Zayn says, crouching beside the shiny red bike he wheeled out of the garage and adjusting the seat lower.

Mum is busy at work. I think she's a doctor or something, but Dad's inside, working on his laptop. Zayn tells me he's an architect.

I bite my lip, staring at the handlebars. “What if I crash?”

I’ve never ridden a bike before, but I've always wanted one. Now that Zayn brought his out so I can enjoy the experience, I'm scared.

“You won’t,” he says confidently, standing straight. “I’ve got you.”

He’s wearing a T-shirt with some comic character on it and has that same serious look on his face, but his voice is calm and patient.

He helps me climb on carefully.

As I stagger, his hands grip the back of the seat and one handlebar steadily.

“Ready, Ash?” he asks.

I shake my head, my heart banging. “No.”

“You can do it, come on.”

He starts walking, then jogging beside me as I push the pedals.

The bike wobbles, and I gasp, but it doesn’t tip.

Wind rushes past my face, blowing my hair everywhere, including the fringe that conceal the scar. I squeal, partly terrified and thrilled.

“It's all about balance; you're doing great,” Zayn says, still holding on. “Just keep pedaling, I'm going to let go now.” He says, laughing in a way I’ve never heard before.

It's the first time I'm hearing him laugh.

He lets go, and I don’t even notice at first.

I’m riding the bike.

I look back and see him standing in the middle of the driveway, grinning proudly at me.

The moment of distraction makes me wobble again, and Zayn sprints forward quickly, catching me before I tip over.

“Told you,” he says, steadying the bike. “I’ve got you.”

I give him my biggest smile ever because I believe him completely.

Later in the night, I experience my first thunderstorm.

Even with the renewed sense of security that comes with my new room, the loud booms of thunder make me shake under the covers.

I grab onto Milly, my giant stuffed bear, closing my eyes tight, but it doesn't help.

The thunder makes me remember when I was really little and there was a big, scary storm. Uncle Sean was yelling at me because I was crying about the loud noises. A huge crack of thunder came, even louder than his voice, and it made me scream again.

He got so mad, saying I was too loud and too bad, so he shoved me into the dark hallway closet and slammed the door.

I remember curling up on the floor with all the coats and shoes… with all the rats and cockroaches, shaking, while the thunder boomed and boomed like it was trying to break the house down.

It felt like the storm was mad at me too, and that if I made any noise, something even worse would come get me.

I stayed in there a long time, until everything went quiet.

Now every time the thunder roars, I feel that same terror… like the sky is shouting at me... and I have to hide, or it’ll find me and lock me away again.

When Milly doesn't bring me any comfort, I jump out of bed on shaky legs and creep down the hallway, stopping at Zayn’s door.

It isn't fully closed, and I think he leaves it that way on purpose, just for me.

After knocking softly, I push it open and tiptoe in.

The room is dark if not for the faint glow of his night-light shaped like a soccer ball. Zayn stirs in his bed, opening his sleepy eyes.

Without saying anything, he lifts his blanket and shifts to make space for me.

I crawl in beside him quickly, curling into a ball against his side.

He’s so warm; it reminds me of those large fires people keep in their homes to use during winter.

Zayn pulls me close till my cheek rests over his heartbeat and his chin settles gently on top of my head.

Another boom of thunder rolls outside, and I flinch, burrowing deeper into him with a whimper of fear.

“Shh,” he murmurs sleepily, but it sounds so calm, like nothing in the world could ever scare him. “It’s just noise, Ash. It can’t get in here.”

He pats my back slowly and softly. “It can’t hurt you.”

I start to relax.

“I’ve got you.”

The storm keeps raging outside, but inside his arms it feels far away, like it’s happening to someone else.

I shut my eyes tight and keep telling myself that he's my safety.

And as long as Zayn’s here, the thunder can scream all it wants.

It won’t touch me.