Where I Belong - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

After a few more hours, Theo finally locked up the gym, the click of the door echoing in the quiet. He glanced over at me, his expression soft, but the usual cool mask was back in place. "Ready to head home?" he asked, his voice a little more casual than before.
I nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief that the day was over. The gym hadn't been as bad as I thought it would be, but I was more than ready to leave the noise and pressure behind.
Theo didn't say much on the drive back home. The car hummed steadily along the road, the usual silence between us not feeling quite as heavy now. I kept my eyes on the passing scenery, my thoughts still a bit tangled.
When we pulled into the driveway, the house loomed large in front of us. I hadn't been here long, but it already felt like a place where I could breathe a little easier. The brothers were already inside, the door creaking open as I stepped into the warmth of the house.
As we entered the kitchen, Silas looked up from where he was leaning against the counter, a smirk lighting up his face.
"Look who's back from the big bad gym," he teased, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "How'd it go, Liv? Did Theo turn you into a punching machine?"
I gave him a small, tired smile, the weight of the day still lingering on my shoulders. "It was fine. Theo showed me some stuff. But...I'm not gonna start punching anyone anytime soon."
"You sure?" Silas gave me a mock serious look. "I mean, with those moves, you'd probably knock someone out."
Theo shot him a quick, warning glance, and Silas just grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
Elijah, who had been setting the table, looked over at me with that warm, welcoming smile of his. "Hey, sweetheart. Glad you're back. You feeling okay?"
I nodded quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. "Yeah, just a bit tired."
He gave me a reassuring smile, setting the last plate on the table and sitting down next to me. His presence was comforting, like always. Elijah was the kind of person you wanted to be around when everything felt heavy. His warmth filled the room, balancing out the tension.
Zane, who had been sitting at the head of the table, didn't say much, but his eyes flicked toward me briefly as I took my seat. He always seemed like he was observing everything – his gaze sharp, yet somehow always protective.
"Eat," Zane said, his tone firm, though not unkind. "You've had a long day."
Pushing through the discomfort, I took a small bite of the fried rice. It was delicious. My stomach growled in protest, wanting more, but I kept my pace slow, like I was trying to convince myself that it was okay.
Eros, who had been quiet as usual, didn't make eye contact. He sat across from me, his posture stiff. But I noticed his eyes flicker toward me every so often, like he was checking if I was okay.
"How was the gym?" Zane asked Theo, his voice cutting through the noise.
Theo shrugged nonchalantly, though I could see the faintest trace of pride in his eyes. "It's good. Busy today, though. Had to show Olivia some basics first. She's a natural."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "Olivia?" He glanced at me, his expression unreadable but not unkind. "You didn't say you were teaching her to box."
Theo shifted, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "It's not like that. Just some self-defense stuff. You never know when you might need it."
Theo was quieter than usual, but when his eyes flicked over to me across the table, he smiled just a little. "You know, you're a natural," he said, his tone low, but there was pride in it. "You picked up on everything so fast."
I blinked, surprised by the comment. He wasn't usually this open with praise. I mumbled a quiet, "Thank you," feeling both flattered and a little overwhelmed. It was nice, though, hearing him acknowledge my effort.
I met Zane's eyes briefly, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. He didn't say anything more, but I could feel his protective gaze, always calculating, always making sure everyone was safe. It was strange, how he seemed like the pillar of the family even when he wasn't saying much.
Eros, sitting next to Silas, looked up at me briefly, his gaze flickering before he turned his attention back to his plate. "You good?" he asked, his tone quieter than usual. There was a slight tension to his voice, as if he was trying to tread carefully.
I nodded, not entirely sure how to answer. I could feel the weight of his eyes on me, and though he tried to keep his expression unreadable, I could tell he was making an effort to check in. Maybe it was because we'd started to talk again, or maybe he just wanted to make sure I wasn't still distant.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said softly, not sure if it would be enough. But Eros just gave a small nod, and I noticed the brief, almost imperceptible flicker of relief in his eyes.
Dinner passed in its usual rhythm, the chatter flowing around the table as each of my brothers did their thing. Zane kept to himself mostly, his focus on his food, but every now and then, he'd glance over at me with a small look of approval, as if he was quietly pleased with my progress.
Theo was quieter than usual. He was focused on his meal, his shoulders relaxed, but every so often, his eyes would meet mine across the table. I caught him glancing at me more than once, and when our gazes met, he'd give me that almost imperceptible nod, like he was checking in, but didn't want to say anything out loud.
I wasn't sure why, but I appreciated that he didn't push. I could tell he cared, even if it didn't come out in big, bold ways. It was more of a quiet support, a feeling I wasn't used to, but one that felt safe.
The meal continued, I noticed Eros shifting slightly in his seat. For a moment, he seemed to be lost in thought, his usual tough demeanor slipping just a little. He glanced at me again, this time holding my gaze for a few seconds longer than usual. His eyes softened just the slightest bit, and I caught him trying – really trying – not to let his emotions show.
"Livy," he said, his voice quieter than before, "you want to go for a walk after dinner?"
I looked up at him, a little surprised by the invitation. He hadn't really made an effort to spend time with me since everything had happened. But now, there was something almost shy in the way he asked, like he was unsure if I'd want to.
I gave a small nod. "Sure. I'd like that."
Eros gave a barely-there smile, the kind that told me he was glad I hadn't turned him down. The rest of the meal went by in a blur, with Silas talking about his latest prank, Zane offering his usual quiet commentary, and Theo observing it all from the corner of his eye. But underneath all of that, there was a quiet sense of something more – something that felt like it was slowly falling into place, piece by piece.
I pushed my chair back slowly, catching Eros's gaze across the table. He was already standing up, making his way toward the door. There was no rush in his movement, but it felt deliberate, like he wanted to give me space to decide if I was ready.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual. I could hear the hint of uncertainty in it.
I nodded and stood up, brushing past Theo on my way out. He gave me a subtle nod, the same quiet acknowledgment I'd grown used to. His presence, though silent, was solid and steady. like a wall I could lean on if I needed to.
When we stepped outside, the cool night air hit me, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the house. Eros fell into step beside me, his stride long and easy, but he didn't try to fill the silence. We walked side by side, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
Eros shifted his weight, his hands fidgeting in his pockets, like he was trying to keep control of the storm brewing inside him.
"Livy," he said, his voice quiet, almost apologetic. "When you were taken...it hit me harder than you think." He looked down, his jaw tight. "I didn't know how to deal with it. I just...I was angry. At everything. At myself for not being able to protect you."
His words cut through the air, more raw than I expected. I stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. The pain in his voice was so real, it felt like it was reaching out to me.
"I wanted to fix it, but I couldn't," he continued, his eyes dropping to the floor, his fists clenching. "I was so fucking mad, Livy. Mad at the world, at myself. And I didn't know how to show it, so I shut down."
I felt a pang in my chest, hearing how much it had hurt him, even if I didn't remember it. "I didn't know," I said softly. "I didn't know how much it...affected you."
He looked up at me, his expression a little more vulnerable than I'd ever seen. "I didn't want you to see that side of me. I thought...maybe it was better if you didn't know. But I should've been there for you. I should've done something."
I felt the weight of it – his guilt, his regret. But I didn't want to make him feel worse. "It's not your fault," I said quietly. "You couldn't have stopped it. None of us could."
He stayed silent for a moment, the tension in his body slowly easing. Then he nodded, just slightly, like he was accepting it.
I took a slow breath, the words I'd been holding back starting to push their way out. "I-I didn't have it easy, either," I said, my voice low, almost hesitant. "It was...hard, living with Mum and Roger. But I made it through. I survived."
Eros didn't say anything for a long while, his eyes focused on me as if he was trying to see past the walls I'd built up. He didn't press, though, just waited, and for some reason, that felt like enough. I couldn't go into the details. I couldn't make him feel what I'd felt, not when he already had so much of his own pain to carry.
"Just..." I swallowed, looking away for a second. "I'm here now. That's what matters, right?"
Eros gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes softening just a little. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice tight with something unsaid. "I'm glad you're here."
I wasn't sure where the conversation was going, or if there was even anything else left to say. But it felt like a small step, like something had shifted between us, something that would make it easier to keep moving forward.
He let out a quiet breath, then glanced back towards the house, where the others were probably waiting. "You ready to face them?" he asked, his tone light but still edged with something deeper.
I nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah. Let's go."
As we walked back toward the others, the silence wasn't as heavy as before. It felt like we had reached a quiet understanding, a place where we didn't need to say much to know that we were both trying, and that was enough.
That night, after dinner and the walk with Eros, I retreated to my room, my mind still tangled in the conversations we'd had, in the weight of all the things left unsaid. I sank into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, trying to quiet my racing thoughts, but sleep wouldn't come.
I tossed and turned, the images from the day mixing with the darker memories I kept buried deep. The soft light in the room, the comforting silence, couldn't shield me from the things I'd been running from. I closed my eyes, hoping for peace, but found none. My mind kept circling back to things I never wanted to remember, things I'd long ago locked away. But the memories always had a way of creeping back, especially when the world outside was still, when there was nothing to drown them out.
And then, somewhere between the wakefulness and the edge of sleep, the nightmare took hold.
I was a child again, and the house was familiar yet twisted and distorted, like it always was in dreams. It was the house I'd grown up in, the peeling wallpaper, the air thick with the smell of dust and neglect. I could hear Roger's voice from somewhere behind me, low and guttural, calling my name. His voice always made my skin crawl, and this time was no different.
I tried to run, but my legs felt heavy, as if the ground itself was holding me back. I turned a corner, but there he was – Roger, his face twisted into that disgusting smirk that always made my stomach churn. His eyes locked onto mine, too knowing, too eager, and I was small again, a child, vulnerable, unable to fight or scream.
"Olivia," he whispered, and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. His hand reached out toward me, and I froze, paralyzed with fear. I wanted to scream, to run, but my body wouldn't obey. His fingers brushed against my arm, and the touch burned like fire, like it was searing through my skin, tainting everything it touched.
I tried to push him away, but in the dream, I wasn't strong enough. His grip tightened on my wrist, pulling me toward him, his breath hot and foul against my skin. "Don't fight it," he murmured, and his voice dripped with something dark, something vile. "You know you want this."
The words echoed in my head, reverberating like a scream I couldn't hear. I felt sick, trapped in my own body, unable to escape. I closed my eyes, but it didn't stop the nightmare from unfolding, didn't stop Roger's hands from reaching where they shouldn't.
Just as he got too close, my body jolted awake, gasping for air. My heart pounded in my chest, my skin slick with cold sweat. I blinked rapidly, trying to separate the nightmare from reality, but the remnants of it still clung to me, like shadows in the corners of my mind.