THE REFUGE PART 2

THE REFUGE PART 2
He buries his face in my hair and quickly lifts me into his arms, sliding them under my butt, gripping my thighs. I clutch his neck, holding on, my face hidden against his shoulder, unable to stop crying, unable to stop remembering my mother and Mimi’s body falling in the cage, being killed in front of her baby before they killed him too.

My knees touch the ground and our bodies lower. Warm breath escapes at the top of my head, one hand holding my back and the other reaching up to my hair, while my face buries deeper into his chest.

“You’re safe, little bear. You’re safe, do you hear me?!” he murmurs louder. “No one is going to hurt you...”

I hear the words through the pain consuming me, and also feel the slow touch of a kiss on my head. My arms cling tighter to him, as if he is a refuge, sheltering me like a fortress within his embrace.

“No one, no one is going to hurt you...”

I lift my head back and raise my face to his the moment his leans down to kiss my hair again. But it brushes lightly against my forehead because of my movement. I close my eyes and sob quietly, feeling his hand in my hair come forward to hold my face, as he places slow kisses on my eyes, one by one, while holding my waist firmly.

“You’re safe.” His hoarse, low voice makes me open my eyes and meet his intense gaze locked with mine, shining in a dark black.

But they don’t scare me, don’t make me fear or want to pull away, as if his words were truly true and his arms my refuge. That little girl running through the forest, who kept doing what her mother told her, never stopping running, finally found a safe refuge.

I lay my face on his hand, my shoulders shaking from the pain consuming me. The warm touch on my lips is slow, and I open my eyes as an electric current takes me over completely, finding his face inches from mine, his eyes fixed on my mouth. And I don’t move, I just stay kneeling, my face in his hand. I’m tired of running, tired of fleeing, tired of so much pain in my heart.

He growls, releasing my waist, his hand crushing the back of my neck as his forehead presses against mine and he breathes deeply.

“Fuck it!” His growl is low, making me feel everything explode inside me as he squeezes my neck harder and presses his lips to mine. It’s not gentle, but fierce.

I’m speechless, not knowing what I’m doing or what he’s doing to me. I just let him kiss me. I’d never been kissed, never imagined being kissed by a man, much less letting him kiss me.

I also never imagined what I would feel being kissed. But in this moment, everything bursts and vibrates inside me, as if my heart were beating as fast as the train’s boiler.

I feel like a train with his tongue invading my lips, the tracks leading me to a new path, tasting like whiskey, honey, and mint. The warm, strong touch presses me to him, while he takes me without any resistance from me. It’s as if I’d been waiting my whole life for this kiss that silences my mind, dulls my pain, numbs my senses, and makes me feel safe.

I clutch his waist tightly, as if I’m floating in the aerial hoop, in pure freedom. His breath is heavy as he parts his mouth from mine and rubs his forehead against mine, inhaling deeply, just like me. My breath returns to my lungs, which seemed emptied.

“Come on, damn it, let’s go!” The loud shout of a man makes me turn my head.

I’m crouched between King Arthur’s and Donzela’s cages, staring at the men walking away in the distance, with Belmonte closing the bear’s cage and walking slowly past Mimi’s cage, showing no remorse in his expression for what he let those men do.

Because that’s what men do: they destroy, hurt, and wound, like they did to my family, like they did to Mimi and her baby, like Dior does to the animals, mistreating them, like Spook does to everyone here, and especially, to me.

“Selly...” The voice calling me makes me look ahead, and I face the man I allowed to touch me.

And the reality of what I let him do hits me, leaving me confused. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me, because in the end, he’ll hurt me, like all men do.

My body pushes back, and I’m scared of myself, of everything I saw, of everything that happened. I drag myself on the ground, curling up as his arm stretches to touch me, and I don’t let him, not when all I hear in my mind is:

“Run, Selly.”

I’m already getting up, turning my back to him, and run
ning as fast as I can, without looking back.