It was hard for Skye to give Jeffrey space. If she wasn't in the same room as him, she struggled to remember that he was at Arundel at all. Consciously, she knew that he was, but she was trapped in a cyclical pattern where she was taken over by panic, she reminded herself that he was perfectly safe, then panicked again. They had spent the majority of the day together, but she had left him almost two hours ago to have dinner alone with his parents and Churchie.

There was an unspoken rule that not everyone should be with Jeffrey at once. They weren't worried about 1overwhelming him, he could handle it; it was the rest of them that couldn't. Skye had noticed that they were all perfectly normal around Jeffrey individually, but in a group setting the whispers, the staring, the unfortunate questions like "are you sure you're feeling okay?" all broke out and made him uneasy. Skye didn't know why that was, except that it was possible that when there were so many uninjured people around him, it reminded everyone how much he had suffered. She needed them to get a grip. If she had to endure Rosalind giving Jeffrey that wide, doe-eyed stare of hers while whispering about him to Tommy just a single additional time, Skye was going to fly off the fucking handle. Did they really not get how self-conscious that made him? Skye had seen innumerable smiles flicker on his face because of such ignorant behavior. He only wanted to be treated like everyone else. It wasn't asking much. They were just too selfish to grant him that.

All persons who were not with Jeffrey were sitting together in Arundel's sunroom. It was a lot of people for Skye to be around as well, though the group handled her presence much better than Jeffrey's. Likely that was because she wasn't as gracious as he was. She didn't put up their questions and stares. If they made her uncomfortable, she left.

The sun was setting. It cast golden light through the room's many spectacular windows. In the past, Skye would have appreciated such natural grandeur. Now she only noticed the shadows stretching out from the furniture. She sat against the wall. Even with seven other people there, she didn't want her back exposed. It tempted her to glance over her shoulder; she was afraid of being snuck up on. She preferred to position herself with an easy view of the entire room. That way nothing could surprise her.

The rest of the group had long finished their meal, but Skye's plate sat untouched in front of her feet. Food tasted like cardboard. She couldn't enjoy it anymore. The soft orange light drew her gaze out the window. She heard muffled conversing, but she wasn't engaged in what was being said. Her hands fidgeted. She twisted her feet, rubbing them over each other, furling and unfurling her toes. Her muscles were tense. Her chest hurt. Her heart was beating so irregularly that it constricted her breathing. Twice she had been afraid that she would faint and succumb to her nightmares exactly as Jeffrey had. She didn't know why she was so agitated. She wasn't remembering anything; she was hardly thinking at all. Her mind was a blank slate. She probably wouldn't have been able to say when her birthday was. Her anxiety drove away her every thought, but still something kept it there. She felt like she was perpetually tipping too far back on the legs of a chair and had yet to discover if she would catch herself or not. She had reached a point where she didn't have to explicitly think about Dexter to remember him. He was such a large part of her mind; she had blocked him out, but there he remained, invisible but threatening to unhinge her. That was worse. She couldn't fight him if he had already been suppressed.

Despite the light, airy room, she was claustrophobic. It was Monday. That was the first hazy thought she could form. Exactly one week earlier, she had been bound, gagged and stuffed in a box. It felt like half of her life he passed her by since then, but it hurt like it had happened that morning. Half of her life probably could pass by and it would hurt just the same.

The thought was gone as soon as it came and Skye no longer knew what day it was. She knew nothing except that she hadn't blinked for so long that her eyes burned. She dragged her eyelids down and they grated against her corneas. The light blinded her like she had scratched them, then she faded back into an empty, open stare. Her blood pumped like she'd taken espresso shots on an empty stomach. Skye picked at her fingernails and flicked the ends of her hair. She tied it in a ponytail, then immediately pulled it down again. The elastic tugged at her roots like Dexter's fist in her hair. Her eyes welled with tears, so she tore them from the window. Spots danced in her vision. She still saw the red outline of the sun. The tears receded away.

"Skye?" said Iantha.

Skye came back to the present and realized that Iantha must have been trying to get her attention for a while. Everyone was looking at her with deep (unappreciated) sympathy.

"Are you alright?" Iantha asked her.

Skye meant to nod, but she gave them a mixed signal. She half shook her head as she did.

"Why don't you go see Jeffrey?" said Mr. Penderwick.

"He's busy." Skye didn't want Jeffrey to think that she couldn't handle a couple of short hours away from him. She wanted him to see her as better than that. She had never been this person. Independence had been one of her favorite personal traits. She'd lost it. Independence terrified her.

"Go see him. I'll walk with you," said Mr. Penderwick. He pushed back his chair.

"No," said Skye. Mr. Penderwick stayed in his seat. Skye still hadn't talked to him much, and never without other people around. She was keeping her distance from him until she was ready to apologize. She wasn't just yet.

Her legs shook as she stood up. She braced her hand against the wall. She was stiff and sore. She could twitch and shiver with no problem; movement was an entirely different story.

She just walked out. She gave no goodbyes, no explanation about where she was going. She wasn't even sure she would find Jeffrey. She didn't think she should, not while she was feeling like this. He had done so well all day. He was in a good mood, genuinely. It wasn't a shallow imitation of happiness; he was actually content. Maybe that was why Skye felt so empty and confused. She couldn't get there. Jeffrey usually had such an infectious energy, but right now, he was relaxed and Skye was tense and there was nothing she could do to change that. If he could put his trauma away for a day, Skye was proud of him. She wasn't strong enough to do the same. She wouldn't drag him back into it with her.

So Skye wandered aimlessly through the halls. She felt nothing and everything all at once. She barely knew what that meant. Something was wrong, but she couldn't name her particular emotions.

"Skye! Wait." Jane ran to catch up with her.

"What do you want?" Skye's irritation was plain.

"Where are you going? To see Jeffrey?"

"No." That was all Skye gave her. She continued to walk, but Jane fell into step beside her.

"Why not?"

"I don't have to be with him 24 hours a day." A lie. Yes she did, if she wanted to stay calm. "Why are you here?"

Jane looked wounded. "To check on you. You're scaring me."

"Get over it. I'm okay."

"You don't seem okay."

"Fine. I'm not. I'm a real mess. Is that what you want to hear?"

Jane's wounded expression turned even more pitiful. "Of course not."

Skye wished she could stop snapping at her. She didn't even want to be rude, yet here she was. Rats. "Can you leave me alone for just a fucking second? Goddamn, Jane."

Jane recoiled from that statement. "I have been. I'm trying so hard."

"Do better. I don't want you around. It's not that fucking hard to understand."

Skye expected her to cry. Everyone did with her, and Jane had always had a talent for tears. That wasn't what happened. Her sister flushed angrily. She grabbed Skye's arm to stop her. Skye's skin burned and she yanked herself free.

"Do not touch me."

"Why are you being so mean?" Jane demanded.

Skye rolled her eyes. "You're a child."

"I only want to help!"

Skye spun away from her and faced the wall. It was less than a food from her nose. "You can't."

"Then talk to Jeffrey, please. Let someone help you," Jane begged her earnestly.

"No. I can't rely on him. If you knew what Dexter did, if you knew what Jeffrey thinks of himself now—" Skye bit her tongue. She shouldn't have said that. Jeffrey didn't want anyone to know how insignificant he felt. Even around her, he hid it. Skye knew on her own. There were moments when she hardly see through his marine layer of disgust with himself.

"You keep saying that," Jane said quietly. "That we don't understand because we don't know what happened, and we can't help because we don't understand. What am I supposed to do, Skye?"

"Deal with it," Skye snapped. "That's reality."

"Jeffrey knows."

"Yeah, too fucking well." Skye was getting tired of hearing herself swear, but profanity rolled too easily off her tongue. "I can't put my problems on him. He's going through enough." She turned back to Jane, horrified that it was she who was tearing up. Her crybaby sister was stubbornly dry-eyed. Skye pinched herself for that thought. It wasn't fair to call Jane that. She was the one who could barely go two hours without crying. She couldn't count the number of times she had excused herself to go to the bathroom to do just that. She was determined not to cry in front of Jeffrey today. "And also, Jeffrey doesn't understand either. He understands abuse and fucking abduction, but not the rest. I can't ask him to try. I won't do that to him." There was the swearing again. Skye was so irritated with her mouth. She'd never been this bad about it.

"But he'll help," said Jane. Her face was full of pain. Skye felt like a bitch. It was easy for her to forget how hurt her family was. Yes, it was different, but they were suffering too. Maybe as badly as she was.

"He wants to, I know he does. Talk to him, Skye. Please."

"Don't pressure me," Skye pleaded, suddenly weak and exhausted rather than angry. "I can't burden him. I can't, okay? I can't. He's having such a good day. I won't take that from him. If I go in there and talk to him about this…I can't do it. I've already hurt him so much."

Jane's eyes finally welled. She shook her head until it made Skye dizzy to look at her. "It wasn't you. Dexter hurt you, and that hurt Jeffrey. You did nothing."

It was hard for Skye to hear, let alone believe. She'd seen Jeffrey struggle to save her; she'd heard him beg and cry. She saw how he looked at her now. He didn't need the additional pain. He shouldn't have to bare her trauma too. She felt guilty whenever she thought about it.

"You take such good care of him, better than I ever thought you could," Jane continued. "What you did for him last night, are you kidding? He loved that."

Skye scowled as she blushed. She was embarrassed by her own gesture. Even more so because despite all of her criticism of romance, she had loved it too. "You weren't supposed to hear about that."

"Churchie blabbed. Just to me and Mrs. Tifton, I promise. She showed us a picture. Mrs. Tifton cried."

That didn't improve anything for Skye. "She cries way too easily."

"Maybe, but my point is you're doing so much for Jeffrey and you're so worried about him. It's great, but I'm worried about you. You have to take care of yourself too."

"It's not as great as you think. I focus on Jeffrey so that I don't have to think about myself. I just want to forget it all. That's what I've done this whole time. I worry about him and I protect him because that's how I protect myself." Skye hadn't realized that before. When Jeffrey was hurting, she could ignore her own problems. She was more selfish than she liked to believe.

"That's not working for you right now, is it?" Jane gushed sympathy.

"No. It's not," Skye admitted.

"Go see him. Don't talk about this if you don't want, just hang out. You don't want me around. I get it, but don't be by yourself."

"I didn't mean that."

Jane smiled, tight-lipped. "Yes you did, but that's okay. I know you want Jeffrey with you, that's good enough for me."

Skye really, truly did, but she was afraid to make him upset. She would try her absolute hardest to act like she was alright.

Jeffrey was still in the guest room. He missed his own bed, but he had decided that three flights of stairs was too much for him to take on. He didn't want to cut himself off from the rest of the house. He was stretched out on the mattress. His mother knelt beside him. They both looked up when Skye opened the door.

Jeffrey grinned at her. "I think you came at the perfect time."

Skye was confused until she noticed the stack of washcloths and the bucket of soapy water that Mrs. Tifton had set out next to her. Right. Jeffrey couldn't shower yet. Dear god. Skye raised her eyebrows at him and Jeffrey shrugged (the best he was able; his shoulders were pinned down by the straps of his back brace).

Skye smiled and nibbled on her lip, more nervous than she wanted to admit. She looked at Mrs. Tifton, then pointed at her bathing supplies. "I'll do that."

"Oh," was all Mrs. Tifton said. She glanced between Jeffrey and Skye and pursed her lips.

Jeffrey's grin grew wider. "I broke my back, Mom. We have to be innocent."

Skye liked that he had switched to calling Mrs. Tifton "Mom." Mother was too formal; it was weird, straight out of those British period dramas Iantha liked to watch.

Jeffrey made eye contact with Skye and his smile faltered. His broken bones weren't the only hinderance, and he knew that. Skye could kiss him all day, but that's as far as it would go. Beyond that, she might never be ready. Jeffrey wouldn't say that to his mother, but he was thinking about it. Skye could read it on his face.

Mrs. Tifton, luckily, did not consider that, nor did she notice the change in Jeffrey's expression. "In itself it's not appro—" She tossed up her hands. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Whatever. Fine."

"I just don't want it to be you, sorry. That's uncomfortable," said Jeffrey.

"Fine," Mrs. Tifton said again. She left in a huff. She closed the door behind her, then after a pause, opened it a crack.

Jeffrey sat up and slid his sprained wrist from its brace. The plaster cast on the other was of course, there to stay.

"I got it, for the most part," he said when Skye took Mrs. Tifton's place on the floor. "Can you just help me get out of—"

He couldn't finish because Skye filled his mouth with her tongue. Basically, she attacked him, but she felt no shame. She needed to feel something. Heat. She was numb and cold, like she'd been caught in a rainstorm. His lips were hot. The warmth of his open mouth leached into her tongue and spread through her as if it were carried by her veins. She defrosted and let loose a shuddering moan. She felt alive again. Her body tingled with hyper sensation. He was the only thing she tasted that she actually enjoyed. Everything else was nauseatingly bland, but Jeffrey her tongue couldn't get enough of. She had never had a kiss quite like this one. It consumed her and disentangled her from the world. She sensed nothing but him. He was her only reality. When she had to stop before she suffocated, she barely knew where she was.

"What was that?" Jeffrey asked, gasping a bit.

Skye shrugged.

Jeffrey gave her a playful smirk. "That was gross, that's what. I like it."

Skye was surprised that comment didn't fluster her. She stopped herself from kissing him again. She hugged his neck because it was the only way she could be certain that she wouldn't. She was annoyed that already she wanted to cry. It would not happen. "Hi," she whispered, feeling foolish. It was all she could think to say.

Jeffrey laughed at her but he said it back.

"Is it stupid that I missed you?" asked Skye.

"A little, but I'm stupid too."

He dragged her confusion and uneasiness out of her. It pulled away almost scientifically, like heat transfer or the conduction of electricity. He siphoned it into himself. She sensed him becoming worried, it was clear in the way he hugged her, as if he was physically holding her together. She grew more comfortable, he reversely grew more concerned. Skye let go of him to halt that effect.

"How are you?" he asked.

He was too good. He already knew. Of course, Skye had betrayed herself. She hadn't hidden her struggle particularly well.

"I'm good, honest," she lied.

"I'm glad." He saw straight through her. He let her lie.

Skye grabbed one of the washcloths. She unfolded it and refolded it in her lap. "Are we going to horrify your mother or what?"

Jeffrey's laugh came out simply as a heavy breath. "Seriously, I can do it. I tried to tell her that. I just need help out of my brace."

So Skye undid the various straps and clasps, then pulled it away from Jeffrey's chest. No longer trapped stick straight, his spine relaxed and he winced. He pulled his shirt over his head. The sleeve caught on his cast. Skye stretched it out for him and tugged it away.

It didn't matter that she had known what to expect, Skye was stunned by what she saw. His chest was slashed to bits. It was almost entirely green. Nothing had faded beyond that. Several places were still so bruised that his skin was almost black. There were too many stitches. They were everywhere. His torso looked like a sloppy patchwork quilt. Skye had to touch it. She didn't know why. She trailed her finger under the longest, looping line of stitches. Her breath snagged in her lungs. His ribs were much to prominent. She could count every one.

"I should have warned you," said Jeffrey.

"I knew." It didn't help.

Jeffrey chewed on the inside of his cheek. He dunked a washcloth into the water and squeezed it out. Watching him do that was therapeutic; some of Skye's distress went away. She was entranced by even the littlest things he did with his hands, because they were free and no longer chained behind his back. He'd reach for a remote and Skye had to stare. He'd comb his fingers through his hair, she would forget what they were talking about. He'd drink independently from a bottle of water, and Skye would almost cry, simply because she didn't have to hold it for him. He wasn't tied to a damn chair and that was the most perfect sight there was. A small, content smile played at her lips.

Noticing, Jeffrey said, "What?"

After a moment of hesitation, Skye decided to be honest. "I like it when you use your hands."

"Yeah, me too." Jeffrey flicked his towel at her. It cut the air with a snap. She ducked to avoid the flying water droplets, but a few did fling into her face.

Skye didn't brush them away because she was too busy watching Jeffrey wipe the washcloth over his shoulder and down his arm. He carefully avoided the stitches encircling his bicep. Skye despised them. If her eyes unfocused (as they often did) and he held his arm at the perfectly wrong angle, he still looked tied up. No one else would think that, but it was too easy for Skye to see.

When he finished cleaning his second arm, Skye took the towel from him. She inched closer and washed his chest herself. She put little pressure, just lightly brushing it over his battered skin. He was like a coloring book; she had to stay between the stitched lines. She had never been good at coloring. She was intent on her work. Her eyes were glued to him as she moved to his abdomen. She could feel him watching her. His breath tickled her scalp.

They didn't speak. Skye couldn't. She was reminded of being on airplane, when it dips from sudden turbulence. Her stomach dropped.

After they had finished, Jeffrey continued to stare at himself. It hurt him, but he couldn't look away.

"Hey," said Skye softly. "You're beautiful, you know that? Even now." She was shocked those words had come out of her mouth.

Jeffrey looked up at her. "Beautiful, huh? I thought you hated that compliment."

"I do, and you are."

Jeffrey held his hands out and asked her to help him stand. She did, and he dropped her hands one at a time so he could hug her. She returned the gesture gently; the stitches and welts in his back rippled under her fingers.

"You surprise me every day," said Jeffrey.

"I thought I was predictable," said Skye, remembering how he had teased her about that. She swallowed, for that memory came with a picture of him tied face-down on the floor.

"I guess I spoke too soon." He tilted her head up, but Skye started the kiss before he did. He was soft and gentle about it; she wasn't. The more desperately she kissed him, the calmer she felt. She had no control. Comfort was a drug that only he could give her. It was the kind of kiss that for anyone else would have called for something more. It was sticky and hot, but Jeffrey's hands never roamed. He probably didn't think she noticed, but she did. He paid attention to where he touched her. His hands stayed at her face. Skye didn't have such restraint. She traced her hands all over him, but Jeffrey didn't take that as an invitation to do it back.

Perhaps that was why Skye was so startled when he grew erect and hardened against her thigh. She gasped in shock. Everything faded around her. She only had one memory of that feeling. She cowered away from him, but she didn't need to. Jeffrey had already dropped her. He jumped away with such a vengeance that he lost his balance. He tumbled onto the mattress, but he had so many broken bones that it did nothing to soften the impact of his fall. He was in obvious pain, but Skye didn't react. She was frozen to the spot like an ice sculpture.

"I'm sorry. It'll—it'll go away," Jeffrey stammered. He was mortified. He covered himself with a pillow to hide the bulge in his shorts.

Skye said nothing. His words hit her in a way that she didn't quite hear them. She didn't exist in the present. Her stomach cramped and twisted away from a feeling of penetration that was much too real. Nothing was inside of her, but Skye couldn't tell the difference. Her only experience was that a man's hard-on meant he would force himself on her. Her body expected rape. When that didn't happen, it fabricated one for her.

Jeffrey apologized again, stricken and ashamed.

"Don't be," Skye managed. "I don't know why I'm like this."

Her skin flamed hot like a fresh sunburn, but inside, she was chilled to the bone. Heat poured off of her, but she shivered. Her uterus stabbed with a sharp, defensive pain. Her thoughts were barbed wire; they tore apart her mind. Her breaths were frantic, she was near hyperventilation. Her legs gave out. She curled into a tight ball on the floor, rocking back and forth as she hugged her legs into her chest.

"Do you want me to get one of your sisters? Or Iantha, maybe?" Jeffrey asked. He hadn't a clue what to do. "I can go."

Skye's teeth were chattering. Her voice was frostbitten. "You mean do I want to be with a girl."

"I don't know…yes. I'll go." He was distressed beyond measure.

Skye shook her head for a long time. "Please don't leave."

"Okay. Okay, whatever you want from me. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't control it. He shouldn't have had to be sorry. Skye was still shaking her head; she'd forgotten to stop. She shifted herself onto the mattress because her tailbone had started to ache. She sorted through her thoughts and tried to categorize them into her past and present realities. She still felt assaulted. Not by Jeffrey, but that didn't change anything. Her feet tapped repeatedly against the hardwood floor. Skye stared straight ahead and studied a flowery painting on the wall. It was bright and cheerful, a perfect representation of tranquility. She tried to disappear into it and ignore her spasming stomach. Her leg prickled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jeffrey lift the pillow to check himself, then toss it away when he saw there was nothing for him to hide. His arousal had effectively died. He stretched his arm toward her, but he decided it was better not to touch her and he dropped it.

When their eyes met, Jeffrey dropped his gaze. It flicked back up to her, then away again just as fast. Skye stared at him and counted four deep breaths. She dove at him because she wanted to be held. At least, she wanted to want to. The impact knocked the breath out of both of them. Jeffrey's arms curled around her. On instinct, Skye slapped them away. The smack echoed around the room. Jeffrey flinched. Skye cried. She didn't know why she'd done that.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening." She grabbed him and folded his arms around her. "I didn't mean to."

"Me neither," Jeffrey murmured. He slid his nails down her back, then rubbed his palm over it on the way up. His other arm tightened around her shoulders.

Skye didn't hug him back. She shrank into him, just wanting to feel protected. She hugged herself instead and pressed her body as close to him as he could. She so wished she could be brave, but she was completely without courage. She wasn't safe on her own.

"Don't feel bad. Please, I don't want you to be upset," she said. She sniffed and sucked snot down her throat. She shuddered.

"I'm always upset about this." He was so quiet, he sounded like he was talking to himself more than her. His fingers continued to spin around the center of her back. "I'm sorry I made it worse."

Skye outlined one of slices in his chest, just because it gave her something to do. "It was my fault," she said. Phlegm was still caught in her throat. "I should know better. I can't kiss you like that and not expect—I'm such an idiot. Why did I freak out?"

She no longer felt threatened. Slowly, she was realizing she was fine, but she wasn't entirely in the clear yet. That came with a different sort of shock. She could not believe she had hit Jeffrey away. She startled to babble. "I don't know how to handle this. I'm doing everything wrong. I don't understand how I feel. I don't know what's real and what I'm just doing to cope."

Jeffrey let out a slow breath. She felt him tense underneath her. She lifted her face and saw the apprehension he was hiding in his face. Skye realized what she had said.

"No, not that. I love you, I do." Her face hovered an inch from his. She was surprised by the guilt that came with that. It felt like a crime against herself. She didn't touch him. She looked down at his mouth because she was afraid to meet his eyes. "I don't know how I can like kissing you. I should hate it, shouldn't I?"

A tear beaded beneath Skye's jaw. Jeffrey flicked it away with his thumb. "Is that what you want?" He wasn't offended. He only wanted her to be okay. Skye knew that one of the reasons why she had been able to kiss him so easily. Before. She'd never questioned it. He was perhaps the only person left that she trusted not to hurt her. That was why her reaction scared her. She didn't want that to change.

"No," she said, sure of that. "But I feel like it's wrong."

"Okay." He was trying so hard to understand her. She knew she wasn't making sense.

"I don't know how to do this. Be a victim – a survivor, whatever. It's the same fucking thing in the end. I think there's something wrong with me."

"There isn't," Jeffrey promised. "I don't know much about it either, but there can't be a right way and a wrong way. It's different for everybody. You know what's best for you."

"But I don't. I don't know. I have no idea what to do."

"Yeah." Jeffrey got a faraway look in his eyes. He knew something about that. "I think that's okay too."

Skye was afraid to lose her ability to kiss him. She had found such comfort in it. It was the only thing she had gained in the midst of so much loss. Here Dexter was, trying to take that from her too. She moved closer, her mouth was only a paper's width away. She didn't have to tell Jeffrey to stay still. She took her time, and he was patient. She took in a calming breath through her nose. She could smell him, and that eased her fears. She touched her lips to his, just barely. It tickled her like a feather. She breathed him in again. She allowed her mouth to slide over him. She was okay. She added gentle pressure. He kissed her back with careful hesitancy. It was slow and tentative. Skye was testing herself. She felt like she had let out a breath she had been holding for far too long. She was relieved, but not yet comfortable.

For now, that was good enough. She settled her head against his chest, more confident that Dexter couldn't steal Jeffrey from her anymore. She still wanted him, even if it confused her.

"Was that okay?" Jeffrey asked.

Skye nodded. "I'm sorry. That was stupid. I'm being dumb."

"No you're not."

"I'm backsliding." Skye felt embarrassed.

"No such thing," said Jeffrey. "Good days and bad days, right?"

Right. And what a bad day this had been.