Chapter Text
The summer holidays always seemed worse than the winter ones. Thanksgiving and Christmas were all about family, and in many ways Alina was surrounded by family. The Oretsevs were a lifeline for her, became her family when she no longer had one. Dinners and gamenights and presents and help with homework were always within reach when Mrs. Oretsev was home; a soft maternal hand to guide her along the path from child to teenager without making it feel too far off from how she interacted with her biological children.
Mr. Anton Oretsev, however, was different. Three boys was a dream life for him, a house full of sports lovers and meat eaters and ease to have conversations about growing up. Three bedrooms to be occupied, three sets of the newest video game console, three college funds set away. Everything set in stone by the meticulous patriarch and ready to start rolling as soon as each boy became of age. An all American family.
A five year old girl suddenly becoming his warden and was a wrench in those carefully crafted plans. But the man had agreed all those years ago to be a godparent and his wife would not let him forget it. But it was always clear to Alina where she stood with him.
A ward.
A charge.
A child- just not his.
So while her childhood best friend became her brother and his mother became hers, it would be false to say that Alina knew what it meant to have a paternal figure when it really mattered. Winter holidays could be stuffed around the edges with laughter and hot chocolate enough to fill in the gaps; to make getting the same gifts of new slippers and a matching pajama set every single year feel like something she should still be grateful for, even as her pseudo-brothers got personalized pocket knives and bespoke watches and new cars.
At least she still had a family, no matter her status in it.
And as much as she wanted to stay frozen in the winter months where New Years could be celebrated with friends and Valentine’s Day could be spent stuffing her mouth with chocolate and singing karaoke with Genya, Alina could not stop the cruel hands of time.
Every year winter turned to spring. Every year Alina was forced to mark the days off on her calendar until June reared its ugly head. Every year she scrambled for a reason to be busy on the third Sunday in June so she didn’t have to face him. She could wish Mrs. Oretsev a happy Mother’s Day with only a hint of resentment for the life she could’ve had.
But to look Mr. Oretsev in the eyes and say those words…she’d choke on her own bile before the words got out. Alina could lie to herself in so many ways, but calling him her…her father, was something even she couldn’t make herself believe.
Normally she could manage to come up with a reason to be out of the house for Oretsev family lunch, a trip to the library or preparing for camp or sometimes even working on a project if school was still in session. But of course, seniors got to finish a week before the rest of the high school, lie around and do nothing in the wake of the impending graduation party, so she truly had no excuse.
Instead, Alina was forced to sit through a painful church service and an even more excruciating lunch at the country club. The whole thing had Alina on edge, jaw constantly clenched as she tried to keep her mind focused on the moments at hand and not get lost in the fog of self-pity that usually set in by the afternoon.
She barely made it home from the day at the club, rolling down the window in the car so the loud droning of the wind whipping past the car could drown out the boys and their father laughed about old times and childhood memories. The tension building in her jaw was bordering on painful by the time they got home, so instead of helping to prepare the house for the guests to arrive in the evening, Alina begged off upstairs as she mumbled something about a headache.
No one found it suspicious, or at least they didn’t care enough to ask because minutes later her shoes were kicked off and she was bundled up beneath the plain blue covers of her bed. They were the same ones she’d had since moving in with the Oretsevs, a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down that did little to ward off the chill of the winter. Alina had never quite found the courage to ask if she could get a new, pink set instead.
She’d never really found the courage to ask anything of her pseudo-family, not when Anton made it clear enough that her presence in their lives was plenty intrusive as it was.
Sure, it could have been worse. She could’ve been sent into the system and bounced around foster homes. Her parents could’ve had some secret, long lost family member that took her in and swept her away from her friends and the town she grew up in.
Alina even could’ve been in the car with them that faithful evening and never gotten to grow up in the first place. And yet sometimes she wondered if that might have been the better option. If maybe, just maybe, it would’ve stopped the slow bleeding wound in her heart.
That maybe if every possibility had been taken away from her, there would be nothing left to mull over every night before she fell asleep. That in some other universe, Alina could’ve been a girl with a mother who tucked her in every night and a father who told her bedtime stories. Someone would be waiting to walk her inside when she got off the school bus and hold her hand as they crossed the street.
She wondered if her father would’ve sat with her at the dinner table, cracking jokes to ease the frustration of middle school math homework. If he would’ve shown her around his office on take your child to work day or stopped for ice cream on the way home after band practice.
In another life he would’ve enthusiastically signed up for the daddy-daughter dance at the recital and scooped her up in his arms to make her little body spin. He would have driven her to school everyday because it was on his way to work but really he just wanted to spend a few more minutes with her each day; upgrading from singing nursery rhymes together to pop songs as she grew up. He would’ve painted her bedroom pink and indulged in a canopy bed big enough to hold every stuffed animal he brought home as an apology for being away on a work trip.
He’d tell her every day how proud he was of her; how smart and kind and beautiful she was and how he couldn’t wait to tell all of his coworkers about where she was going to college because he would find a way to pay for a good school if she got the grades to get in. He would kiss her forehead and make her laugh when her first boyfriend broke up with her and remind her that boys suck , or better yet, he would’ve warned her that boys only want one thing in the first place.
He would’ve saved her from heartbreak in a million different ways.
But he didn’t.
Alina’s father was dead, and her guardian had done a piss poor job of filling in the cracks. Had let her stumble through the world like his sons, except she didn’t have the blind confidence and white male privilege they did. People didn’t respect her unyieldingly like they did with Mal. Her once sunny disposition had been dulled and chipped away until she realized the kind of walls she had to build up to keep things from getting in; to preserve what was left of her spirit.
So she packed up all of her imaginationary scenarios and the years of wishful thinking. Let it rot in the back of her head until it came spilling out every once in the darkness of her room, one hand working quickly under the covers while the other one shamefully held up a phone display the newest and most depraved search results for daddy…ddlg…sensual sex…sweet talk . Anything that could quiet the screeching of her mind and let the sickly sweet fantasies unravel before her eyes.
Her slow traipsing through the false memories of a loving…father….left her a confused mess in her bed, tear tracks on her pillow and nose red. It was all she could do not start sniffling, gripping the threadbare remains of her baby blanket, worn thin and fabric now more gray than baby blue and light pink.
Sometimes, late at night and under the haze of her own sadness and guilt, she could almost smell it, the crisp lemon-herbal scent of her childhood home that never failed to unlock a new memory. The ones her mind kept tightly sealed in the light of day because it took too much energy to process.
The sound of the doorbell ringing out cut through Alina’s thoughts. Just the rest of the Oretsev clan, aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents, pouring their way into the house to celebrate. All smiles and formal handshakes and subtle brags about whoever’s grandchild was the favorite that month.
Malyen never seemed to have the favor of his grandparents, neither did his brothers really, but their father never failed to put them on a pedestal and shine a bright light on their meager accomplishments. Team captains and state school scholarships always seemed to pale in comparison to the grandjour of their cousins. Hell, even their Uncle Sasha had to point out that Mal’s score of a 1300 on the SAT after three months of tutoring was nothing compared to Alina’s 1470 on the first try, but Mr. Oretsev was quick to shift the subject to the most recent football game where his youngest son had shined as starting quarterback.
It had been months since Alina had seen any of their extended family, no invitations extended to her since Christmas brunch, and even longer since she’d seen Uncle Sasha. His lavish lifestyle was full of jet setting to foreign countries to finish trade deals at all times of the year. He probably attended about as many family events as she did.
He’d always been kinder to her, a genuine smile and kiss to the cheek rather than the polite nods of most everyone else. Alina would’ve much preferred living in the basement of his home than in the attic of this one.
Oh well.
As the sounds of the family gathering grew, Alina had to put on her headphones and crank her volume up to drown them out. Her sad girl playlist did its job well enough, lulled Alina to sleep with a fresh set of tears staining her sheets.
-
She woke up disoriented, an unfamiliar song bleeding out from her headphones that had slipped off of her head during her slumber. Alina’s gaze followed the light traipsing in through the window- the family must have moved their celebration outside by the pool, tiki torches in full swing.
Alina’s head was still pounding, face sticky from tears. Slowly, she sat up in bed, shivering against the air conditioning that must have clicked on in her sleep. Sweatpants packed away with the rest of her winter clothing, Alina only had a Ravka University sweatshirt to slip on over her tank top and tennis skirt.
Parched, she scrubbed at her eyes while debating going downstairs to sneak some tea. Everyone was outside, so she could probably make it out unnoticed, but if there was someone she’d have to suffer through a round of trite small talk, put on a fake smile, and go through the exhausting cycle of “yes I am going to college” and “yes the same as Mal” and conveniently leave out that it wasn’t her first choice but it was her cheapest choice because Anton was blatant about not paying for anything better than a state school.
It would be annoying as hell, but she did need something to sooth her dried throat. Maybe grab a snack for when she’d get hungry later. So she snuck down the stairs as quietly as her socked feet would allow, slipping into Mr. Oretsev’s office to walk through the back hallway to get back to the kitchen.
The house was blessedly quiet, only the music from outside blowing in from the screen door. Alina set about making her tea as quickly as possible, selecting a mug and a snack while the kettle heated.
But of course, a watched pot never boils and it was all she could do to keep from pouring the water prematurely and slinking back upstairs before she could be discovered. She breathed a sigh of relief when steam started to force its way out of the kettle, taking it off the heat before it could whistle and draw attention.
Alina had just poured a steaming mug, confident that she was in the clear, when the screen door creaked and footsteps began to echo off of the wooden floors.
Just her fucking luck.
She was cranky enough as it was, and some auntie prying about her life would only make it work. Jaw clenched and head pounding, Alina braced for impact.
“Ah well look who it is. Little Alinochka , where have you been hiding all evening?” a crisp voice materialized behind her.
Uncle Sasha. Of fucking course, the only family member who every actually wanted to hold a proper conversation walked in when she wanted nothing more than to blurt out some pleasantries and escape to the privacy of her room. She let out a frustrated sigh, turning on her heels to face him.
Sasha was far more handsome than his younger brother, jet black hair and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass even beneath the short hairs of his gray-speckled beard. He was tall and lean compared to Anton’s more... full ...stature, and sported his maternal side’s well sculpted nose.
Alina was entirely aware of the situation regarding their family’s split up, but Mal had explained enough of his grandparents in-fighting to justify why Uncle Sasha took his mother’s maiden name back in college while Anton stayed an Oretsev. So many family stories were swapped in Russian too fast for her to understand, but she’d gathered that there was a reunion just after the first grandchild was born.
“Hi,” Alina mumbled, tea mug clenched in her hands despite the heat radiating through the ceramic. She wondered how quickly she could get out of this.
Sasha blinked, eyebrows furrowing just a touch.
“Come now Alina, you know that’s no proper way to greet your uncle.”
A kiss on each cheek and hug was the family custom. But Alina had heard enough today about how she wasn’t really family. Those rules shouldn’t have to apply to her.
Sasha was always kind to her, but Alina simply couldn’t find the energy to reciprocate today. She was tired and sad and angry and ready to burrow back below her covers.
“Yeah well, you’re not really my uncle so…” she trailed off, turning back towards the counter to grab her granola bar.
She could almost hear the words slap him across the face. It nearly made her regret it.
“Alina...what’s gotten into you? Where is all this coming from?” he asked, a hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. Could he tell she was still shaking?
Alina couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, overcome with the urge to bolt upstairs before her frustrations boiled over and she said something she couldn’t take back. She couldn’t risk alienating herself from the one family member who actually cared, even if the attention was beyond annoying at the moment.
“This whole day is just stupid and I feel like shit so just leave me alone,” Alina spat, eyes squeezed shut. Her head was throbbing so badly she was ready to abandon her tea just to get up stairs and away from the bright lights of the kitchen faster.
Sasha’s grip on her shoulder tightened, fingered digging into her collarbone.
Alina winced.
“Watch your language Alina.” His voice was sharp, a tone more stone than she’s ever heard from him before. Something inside of her twitched.
“Like that actually matters. I’m going upstairs to lay down-“ she started, only to be tugged around by his death grip. Hot tea threatened to slip over the rim of her mug; it could burn her if she let it.
Sasha’s face was solem, the only indication of the anger that matched his voice was the hard lines of his eyebrows.
He crowded around her, body trapping hers against the counter. She was struck briefly by how large his frame was, how easily he could cover her entirely. That thing inside of her twitched again.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Alinochka. You’d never act this way around me.”
Maybe it was the warm mug in her hands or maybe the warm breeze pushing in through the open door, but suddenly Alina was flushed, far too hot in her sweatshirt. She kept her eyes on the ground, staring at the little pink hearts on her socks. Her feet were less than half the size of his in his black leather loafers.
Part of her wanted to open up, let her thoughts spill out and tell him all the reasons this holidays was horrible for her; tell how every time someone mentioned Father’s Day it was like they were pouring lemon juice in a gaping wound. That not only did her biological father have to leave her, but the man who was supposed to take on a paternal figure for her would have left her on the side of the road if he had the option.
But she was tired and cranky and didn’t want to get a lecture from Uncle Sasha about why she shouldn’t be complaining because Anton Oretsev was a well respected man who was kind enough to take her in and put food in her mouth so she needed to learn to shut up and be grateful. No whining in this family.
No, Alina couldn’t handle that, not today. So instead she bottled it all up despite her emotions being just a drop away from overflowing, and tried her best to give Sasha a brisk send off.
“Nothing’s wrong. ‘M just tired.”
The hand not on her shoulder reached up to hold her jaw. Sasha tugged her face up up up until their eyes finally met.
“Look me in the eyes when you’re speaking to me Alina. You know better than that.” he chided, searching her face for something. What he found she didn’t know, but the way his eyes narrowed made the warmth of his hand on her face turn molten. Her breathing stuttered.
Looking into his eyes, she could have melted into a puddle onto the floor. There was something hidden away behind the layers of darkness that threatened to pull at the carefully tied threads of her brain.
He waited expectantly, a light squeeze to her jaw.
“I-I said I’m fine. Just tired.” Alina whispered, unsure of her voice. It was sweltering in there, her throat drier than ever and her palms sweaty. She needed to get out. Her room had never felt further away.
Uncle Sasha clicked his tongue, head shaking, “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I know you’re not telling me the truth.”
The hand on her shoulder moved to pry the mug from her hands, placing it onto the counter behind her. Alina nearly jumped when his arm brushed against hers, her body strung tight like a wire, ready to be set off at a moments’ notice.
His body kept her trapped against the counter, nowhere to run. Sasha’s presence was just too much, so big it threatened to swallow her whole, consume her and leave nothing behind.
There was a wave of something lapping at the base of her skull, not the pounding pressure of her headache, but something dark and fuzzy and entirely new. But she fought against, struggling to gain an inch of autonomy over her foggy thoughts.
She couldn’t crack. Not here. Not now.
Alina struggled to the surface of her own mind, “I’m not lying. I just think Father’s Day is stupid.”
“...I’d like to go back upstairs now please.” she tacked on, hoping to appease him enough to make it back to the cool, level-headed sanctuary of her bedroom.
Uncle Sasha hummed, a low purr like he was deciding whether or not to believe her.
He didn’t.
Without another word, he released her face only to grip her wrist, tugging her towards the stairs with one hand while the other pushed at her lower back to keep her side firmly pressed against his.
“What are-“
“You said you wanted to go upstairs Alinochka , that’s where I’m taking you.” he grit, all but dragging her up the stairs. She stumbled along with him, like a kitten carried by its scruff, into her dimly lit bedroom as the door shut behind them. Her eyes struggled to adjust, subconsciously letting Sasha direct her body in the small room, the backs of her thighs pressed up against the edge of her bed.
His fingers stayed firmly over her wrist.
“No more of this little girl. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Little girl.
Her brain was muddled, body still responding to things outside of her mind’s control, but she clung to her last thread of sanity. She thought about how pissed she was, how shitty her life circumstances were and how badly she wished that things could have been different. It was like digging her fingers into a cut, but the sting pushed back some of the fog from her eyes; grounding.
Alina would not break. She’d never be able to put herself back together again if she fell apart now.
“I said it’s nothing. It’s none of your business.”
“It absolutely is my business. I’ve tried to be gentle, Alina, but I will not ask again. Tell me what’s got you in such a mood.” his voice was dark, a threat of something behind it. Her mind begged her to give in, to back down, to tell him what was wrong just to see if the fog could surround her brain entirely.
But Alina was never good at listening to her instincts. If he wanted an answer, he’d have to make her say.
“Uncle Sasha I said it’s nothing-”
One moment she was standing with her back to the bed, Uncle Sasha towering in front of her. The next he was tugging her away from the bed only to swap their bodies, seating himself at the end of her bed. Her vision blurred as he twisted her body, his brute strength easily overcoming the gut-reaction struggle Alina put up. She was disoriented as he bent her over his knees, head falling between her elbows where they laid flat against the faded blue of her covers.
Alina’s words caught in her throat, unable to parse together what was actually happening. It was like someone had made a little incision into her fantasy world and it was slowly bleeding out into reality. Watercolors over a blank canvas; murky and slow but with a burning intention behind it.
Her voice was unsteady when she tried to speak, “What are-”
The words died in her mouth when a hand pressed down against her lower back, halting the movement of her legs as she tried to crawl forward, remove herself from his lap. It was no use when he gripped her calf and pulled her back into position. Her lower back tingle when she realized his fingers could connect all the way around.
“You want to act like a brat little girl? I’ll show you what happens when you don’t show your family respect.” he growled, hand smoothing up the back of her bare legs, her white tennis skirt barely reaching her upper thighs due to the angle.
Alina’s eyes went wide, confused and tired and scared and unsure and and and -
The first smack of the flat of his palm against her upper thigh pushed the air from her lungs. Again her body moved of its own accord, trying to struggle out of Sasha’s hold only to be dragged back down, the friction of his trousers against the material of her sweatshirt sparking a warm within her…sure it was just the friction right?
The squeak she let out was the result of the second hit, landing on her other thigh entirely too close to her ass to be accidental. She tried to push up onto her elbows, but his large, warm hand splayed out over her back and pushed her back down.
It was gentle and she
could
have pushed back against it, but then another spank hit squarely on her asscheek and kept her body down, the material of her skirt not doing much as a barrier between their skin.
“stop- hnmpf - I-I don’t”
The warmth in her stomach spread down, lower and lower to a place that she tried to never think about during the daylight hours. The hazy wave at the base of her neck spread curled its way slowly up into her skull.
Be good . It whispered. Obey him .
“Quiet Alina. I warned you.” Uncle Sasha murmured, cool and collected and seemingly unbothered.
She moved her hands behind her, attempting to block the next blow only to have them pinned against the curve of her back.
“None of that now. I need you to behave for me sweetheart.”
The disappointment in his voice made something inside of her chest ache. But before she could move her hands away or even try to wrestle his grip, there was the distinctive sound of a belt buckle being undone. Before Alina could even think to struggle out of her position, the supple leather of his belt was winding its way around her wrists, locking one over the other behind her back.
“I-I don’t like-”
Another smack, the exact same spot as before, rang off the wall of her room. Alina grunted, still squirming in Uncle Sasha’s grip. His hand slid beneath her skirt, flipped it up over her back and left her spread out under him in nothing but a simple pair of silky pink panties.
“No no no it’s gonna hurt-” a sharp smack, the strongest one yet, drew a choked sound out of her. It properly hurt, the previous ones just a tap in comparison. Tears sprung in her eyes even as the heat pooled in her cunt, slick and warm between her thighs.
“I told you to be quiet. It’s supposed to hurt, little one. That’s the only way you’ll learn your lesson.” he arched over her back to whisper in her ear, condescension dripping from his voice.
Lesson? Her brain couldn’t keep up with whatever point he was trying to make, slowed down by the honey filling her brain; gooey and sweet and sticky. It oozed its way down her back, muscles relaxing as Sasha soothed his hands over the now prickly areas that he’d hit.
Alina knew that something was wrong, that she should be trying to stop what was going on. But Sasha let loose two quick strikes, one to either cheek, so fast that all she could do was twitch a bit beneath him, no time to embrace for impact. A little dark circle appeared on the covers below her- a little drop of droll.
Through the cotton in her head, there was a little wash of clarity. Yes it hurt- hurt like a bitch in fact- but it also soothed . A balm for the scratch that had been festering all day. Deep, deep down it was there.
Quiet.
Another smack echoed through her room, a lovely sting creeping over her skin. Alina imagined the red blossoming over her. A whimper fell from her lips, fingers gripping the leather belt that kept her bound. Sasha pet lightly against her side, the pressure on her upper back releasing to come up and rest over the back of her neck.
The fuzzy feeling inside of her amplified, seeped throughout the rest of her body as she settled down in his lap. Her eyes drooped.
Good here, nice and warm .
“There we go,” Sasha purred, something close to pride in his voice. “That’s it Alinochka , just relax.”
Alina could only sniffle in response, a rush of arousal soaking her underwear at his soothing words. Uncle Sasha was always so good to her.
“I told Anton he just needed a firm hand with you, malyshka . Good girls don’t stay good without proper training.” He landed a quick series of spanks across her ass, never in the same place twice. It truly stung, heat radiating off of her sore skin. Sasha’s palms felt cool resting over her ass, the only reprieve she had.
Each time another crack sound throughout the room, skin on skin, a mewl escaped Alina’s mouth. Every touch pushed her thoughts further out of her mind, honey and sugar filling up the new space just as quick.
Another harsh spank caused her underwear to bunch, tightening between her thighs until the combination of pressure against her clit and fire on her backside made her scream, tears falling freely.
“Now are you going to be a good girl and tell Uncle Sasha what’s wrong?”
Make me! she wanted to scream. Make me! Don’t give me an option. Pull it from my brain. Make it easy to say. Let me drown in the fog.
Let me obey .
Alina whined, nuzzled against the bedsheet. Words were beyond her, but she wanted to tell him. Needed him to pry the truth from her lips. Needed it to hurt so badly she didn’t have a choice.
Uncle Sasha hummed above her, fingers massaging her tender skin. Her ass smarted, pushing back into his touch.
More more more. She needed more.
“Hush sweetheart, it’s okay. Just have to give you a little break.” he cooed, fingers grazing over the soaked crotch of her panties. She might’ve been worried if she wasn’t in sight of something so wonderful on the horizon; dragged out to sea by a hazy tide.
Another harsh blow to her ass, just a bit too close to her center. Alina shivered.
She didn’t know how many there had already been, no tracking as Uncle Sasha kept going. A dozen small, nearly painless ones. A few more open palmed. One almost directly between her thighs. All accompanied by a soft pet and a variety of mind melting phrases: look at you being so good for me, such a good girl…it’s okay little one, you can tell me what’s wrong…da-Uncle Sasha can make it all better.
Uncle Sasha can make it all better.
Alina whimpered, pushed back against his hands, desperate. And true to his word, Sasha knew what to do, how to push the tide over her head and drag her out to sea. Her skin was burning, smarting and twitching without her control, but he kept going. Kept pushing and pushing and pushing until her mind gave in, letting Uncle Sasha seep into her thoughts; stain her brain with his touch and his smell and his voice.
“Alinochka” like a wisp of smoke.
“Tell me ” like a sip of whisky burning down her throat.
“Trust me ” like a soft blanket wrapping around her shaking shoulders.
He’d unlocked the door and every dark little fantasy was spilling out as she drooled over his lap.
“...’s father’s day,” she sobbed. “and I-I….want a daddy…wanna be small again.”
No one to protect her. No one to love her. No one to hold her hand and guide her through life. No one to make tough decisions for her or tell her how good she was. All these thoughts a stinging, open wound like the bruises on her ass.
But then there was Uncle Sasha with a hand soothing over her heated skin and words lulling the phantom pain in her heart.
Between her shaking sobs and blurry vision, Alina lost track of time. It was like wading through molasses, slow and sweet and sticky, until reality started to seep back in. At first it was just the feeling of warmth beneath her cheek, too soft to be her sheets. Then the gentle trace of fingers up and down her back.
The roaring of her own blood in her eyes finally quieted, but instead of ringing silence, there was a little rumble of something. Something soft and quiet and settling.
Words.
“-my sweet girl. It’s okay baby, let it out…never should’ve let Anton have you…could’ve been my little girl from the start….would’ve kept you shivery like this all the time,” Uncle Sasha’s whispers settled low in her stomach, brought her around to consciousness a little more.
Voice hoarse, Alina pulled back from where he’d arranged her in his lap, legs over his hips and head tucked against the exposed V of his chest, “...hi…”
Both of his hands moved to cup her face, thumbs brushing tears out of her eyes. She couldn’t believe they were the same hands that had dealt her so much pain only minutes ago.
“Oh my sweet Alinochka . Do you feel better now, baby?” he murmured.
Honestly, Alina couldn’t tell if she felt better . It wasn’t quite the right word. Exposed maybe. Cracked open from the inside out, but in a way that let her breath a little deeper. Like she had finally handed over the reins.
She couldn’t articulate her thoughts, just pushed her cheek against his hand, trying to leech off of his warmth. But somehow he understood, tucked her right back against his side, arms wrapping around her trembling body.
For the first time in so, so long, she felt safe. Sheltered. Home.
“It’s alright Alina, daddy’s got you. And I'm not letting go.”