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Untouchable
Isabel age six
Hunter age seven
“So they call it Cherry Creek because the town has a lot of cherry trees?” I ask my mom as I swing on the tire swing, hanging from the big willow tree in front of my house.
“Um huh,” she replies, giving me a soft shove from behind, sending me higher into the sky. “And during the spring and fall most of the cherries end up in the river.”
“I guess that’s kinda cool.”
“You’re six, sweet pea. Everything’s ‘kinda cool’ to you.” My mom catches the swing in mid motion, bringing me back to her. My legs dangle from the black tire. My shoestrings from my red Converses are unlaced on both shoes. But they don’t reach the ground yet. I’m not tall enough. She turns me around. At first the bright sun rays filtering through the treetops obscure her face. It’s just the brilliancy of the white-yellow sunbeams and loose strands of her light wheat blond hair that escaped her long braid and her white flowy dress. She looks like an angel. I squint and my eyes slowly adjust. She smiles at me with gleaming green eyes.
“I love you, Isabel.”
“I love you, Mommy.”
A small cry echoes from the house. She glances at the front door, then looks back at me. “Looks like your baby brother is up from his nap. After I feed him, I’ll bring him outside to play with you, alright?”
“Okay.”
She kisses my forehead, then her hands release the rope of the swing and she strolls up the side of the house and up the yellow wooden steps to the porch. Mommy pauses at the glass door and turns to look back at me. “Don’t leave the front yard, sweet pea.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She smiles and nods, opening the door and walking inside the house.
I shift the swing back around and before I can make another move, someone suddenly pushes the swing, sending me flying across the yard. I go tumbling to the ground, landing on my belly. My knees and hands are scraped and bleeding. It hurts and stings so bad. I open my mouth to cry for my Mommy but a warm hand pulls me off the ground.
I wobble a little as I get back on my feet.
I look up and a boy with blue eyes and long ashy golden hair, wearing overalls and white pretty shoes. He presses his finger against my lips. “Shhh. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a prank.”
Something wet drips down my legs, I look down and see lots of blood coming from my knees. My eyes fill with more tears. The pretty boy covers my mouth with his hand. “Don’t scream. I’m not supposed to be here. You’ll get me in trouble. I’ll kiss it and make it better, okay?”
Sniffling and wiping the tears with the backs of my hands, I nod.
“I’m going to remove my hand and kiss your sores. I know it hurts but you can’t scream.”
I nod again.
He stares at me for a while and then drops his hand and picks up both of my mine, flipping them over so he can see the red scratches on my palms. He lifts my hands to his face and kisses each palm.
His lips make me feel funny.
My tummy hurts.
I close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks. He lets my hands go. I feel his warm lips touch the wetness on both my knees. I stagger back from the funny feeling in my chest and tummy.
I feel sick.
The boy catches me by my arms before I fall again.
He smiles and dusts off the grass and dirt from my dress. “I got you all dirty. Will your mama be mad?”
I shake my head.
His smile gets bigger. “That’s good. I get dirty all the time and my mama whips me. I never cry though. But she doesn’t cry when Daddy whips her, either. Mama says Daddy lost his mind when his brother, Smith, died.”
I ball my fists up, even though they hurt and my tears fall faster.
He puts his hands on my face, wiping them away. “Does it hurt that bad?”
I look down at our shoes and shake my head.
“Why are you crying then?”
“I’m sad.”
“You’re sad ’cause I pushed you off the swing?”
I shake my head again.
“Why then?”
I sniffle and wipe the wetness from my nose with my arm, then I glance into his blue eyes that look like pure water from the sea. “Because your mommy whips you, I’m sad for you. I’m crying for you.”
He breathes in a big breath and his eyes widen. He drops his hands, taking slow backward steps like I scare him.
I step forward until we’re face-to-face once more. I reach up and hold his face in my hands. He has a little red blood droplet on his bottom lip. My fingers move to his pink lips and I run them over the spot, removing my blood.
His blue eyes get huge and we stare at each other for a long time.
He blinks.
I blink faster.
Then he smiles and reaches up into my hair, plunking out a green leaf. “I like your hair. It’s soft and smells good.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose.
I take in a big breath.
My tummy ache is getting worse.
His smile gets wider before it vanishes. “Now I have to go, Isabel.”
My brows pull together. “How do you know my name?”
He backs away from me, still smiling. “’Cause I know you,” he turns his back to me and jogs in the direction of the main road where I’m never allowed to play.
“Wait!”
He stops but doesn’t turn to look at me.
“What’s your name?”
“Hunter Knight.” He waves goodbye and then runs, disappearing from my sight.
“I think I love you, Hunter Knight,” I say to the wind, somehow hoping he hears me.
***
Hunter
The first three hours Hunter watched in agony as she tossed and turned, sweating and shaking. Isabel was finally coming down from the pills. How she got them, Falcon and Victor had no idea. They lost track of her back at Mayhem. It was a small mishap on their end but a monumental mistake in reality. She wants to die, he thinks. How the fuck did that stupid fucker fuck up?! How did Isabel slip out of Falcon’s reach? Does he not understand that she wants it to end? Nope. Not going to happen. Not while I’m here. It’ll get better. She has to survive this.
“Baby?” Hunter presses an ice pack wrapped in a small towel over her forehead. She’s burning up.
Isabel doesn’t respond. Her small body is racked with dry heaves. She spent an hour and a half just vomiting in a bag Hunter held open for her to spew in.
“I’m hurting. It hurts,” she mumbles, nuzzling her face in his chest.
He leans down and kisses her cheek, a gesture not-so new to him when involving Isabel. She doesn’t know the depth of despair and darkness he carries within himself. Only Sally Baker knows. Sally Baker knows very well what Hunter Knight is capable of. What he can destroy and tarnish within a blink of an eye. But Isabel isn’t Sally Baker, and she won’t be as long as Hunter can keep his daemons at bay long enough for her to escape his wrath before it’s too late. Because weakness attracts darkness and darkness lures in fragile, sweet, and beautiful things.
Isabel groans, circling her arms around his torso.
He pushes her long hair from her sweaty face, sliding the ice pack down to her neck. Unable to resist, he leans in, placing a small kiss in the hollow of her neck. Hunter watches in amazement as tiny goose bumps cover her flesh.
It can be from the icepack, he thinks, lying back down beside her.
He stares at the girl who always had the will to break him from the very beginning. It’s going to be a battle of wills between the two, no doubt about it. He buries his nose in her hair, taking a huge whiff of dark berries.
“Which one of us will crack first?” he whispers to himself, closing his eyes, marveling at the sound of her steady heart.