10. the unseen wings

Third Person's PoV

Kian cradled Arachnea, his little Sky, in his arms, her small frame trembling with each sob that escaped her lips. The events, giving her statements to the police had left her shaken, and now, ensconced in the safety of Kian's car, the floodgates of her emotions had burst open. Kian's heart ached at the sight of her distress, his mind racing for ways to ease her turmoil.

"Shh, can you hear my voice?" he cooed, his hands gently patting her back. He pulled her closer, enveloping her in the warmth of his embrace, a silent promise of protection. "I'm here, you are safe," he whispered into her ear, his voice a steady beacon in the tempest of her panic.

Arachnea's shoulders shook violently, her cries a testament to the fear that gripped her. Kian felt a pang of helplessness; it had been five minutes, and yet his little Sky seemed so far from reach.

"Breathe for me, my little Sky," he urged softly, his hold on her tightening, a silent plea for her to anchor herself to his presence. In the confines of the car, under the watchful gaze of the moon, Kian became her steadfast guardian, his resolve unwavering as he sought to guide her back from the edge of despair.

Arachnea's words were fragmented, a jumble of syllables that trembled as much as her body. "I…I d-don't…I d-don't w-want…" she stuttered, her voice barely rising above a whisper. Her face, hidden in the sanctuary of Kian's chest, was damp with tears, her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of his shirt.

Kian's heart clenched at her distress, his voice a soothing balm as he tried to reach her through the haze of her panic. "Shh, I'm here. Please, my little Sky, come back to me, baby," he implored, his words a gentle plea for her return to the present.

With a gasp that seemed to draw the very air from the car, Arachnea's body slackened, her form going limp in Kian's lap. He responded with instinctive protectiveness, his arms tightening around her, his whispers painting a tapestry of comfort in her ear, weaving assurances and promises to quell her fears.

The muffled query that emerged from her was heart-wrenching in its vulnerability. "Y-you h-hate…you h-hate me now?" Her words, though obscured by her position, were clear in their intent, a fear of rejection that cut through Kian's soul.

"No, never," Kian's response was immediate, his voice firm with conviction. "I could never hate you, my little Sky. You are my heart, my soul," he affirmed, his embrace a fortress against her doubts, a silent vow to shield her from any storm.

Kian adjusted Arachnea's form on his lap, his embrace a constant source of comfort. Her trembling had subsided somewhat, yet her sobs still tore through the silence of the car with heartbreaking intensity. He reached out, his fingers deftly catching the loose strands of her braided hair, gently tucking them behind her ear.

"Why would I hate my little Sky? Hmm?" he murmured, his question laced with tenderness.

Arachnea inhaled sharply, her grip on the hem of Kian's shirt tightening as if clinging to an anchor in a stormy sea. "B-because…n-no. I…b-because I'm d-disgusting. I always…s-stutter," she confessed, her breath hitching. "And t-this p-panic attack happens. Aren't you d-disgusted?" Her words were interspersed with sniffles, each one a dagger to Kian's heart.

"My little Sky," Kian whispered back, his voice barely above a breath yet filled with an unwavering strength. "I'm here always, and being disgusted by you, or anything you do, is the last thing I would ever feel. You're beyond perfection, and I need you to know that every second you're with me," he assured her, his words a soothing salve to her fractured spirit.

Arachnea's body writhed within Kian's hold, each hiccup a sharp punctuation to her distress. "K-Kian. I'm mad at m-myself…um…it…it…feels l-like I'm not d-deserving o-of…I'm not d-deserving of those k-kind words you said," she stammered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Kian's hands were gentle yet firm around her waist, anchoring her to the safety of his lap. "Why would you be mad with yourself, baby? And why do you say that you are not deserving of those kind words I said? Please, my little Sky, tell me why you are feeling this way?" he asked, his tone soft yet insistent, as he drew her even closer, ensuring her comfort amidst the turmoil.

"B-because…because I'm a waste of t-time and I'm a…" her voice trailed off into a hiccup.

"What, baby? Tell me," Kian coaxed, his voice a tender caress against the storm of her emotions. "Tell me what you feel so I will understand the emotions and feelings that my little Sky is experiencing right now. I want to know, baby."

"I'm f-fat, my D-dad doesn't w-want me and I-I… and I always s-stutter. I'm mad at m-myself for always b-being weak. I… I can't even d-defend myself when those c-criminals touched me l-last night," she confessed, her words interspersed with sobs. "Why am I so w-weak, Kian?"

In the quiet of the car, Kian felt the weight of her words, each one a reflection of her innermost fears and insecurities. He held her, not just with his arms, but with the entirety of his being, ready to battle the demons of doubt that haunted her. In his embrace, Arachnea was not just protected; she was cherished, her worth immeasurable in the eyes of the one who called her his little Sky.

He closed his eyes, absorbing the cacophony of her voice, laden with anger, rage, and a thousand indiscernible emotions.

"My baby," he whispered, his right palm tenderly tracing patterns over her back, while his other hand sifted through her hair, fingers entwining with the loose strands. "I'm so sorry you felt that way. Your words are perfect, and your voice—it's my melody. Being fragile doesn't mean you're weak; you're my strong little Sky," he cooed into her ear, his voice a comforting melody.

She shifted within his embrace, her clenched fist releasing the hem of his shirt. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't k-know a panic attack would overtake me. It's embarrassing. And, t-thank you for soothing me—your voice, it helped immensely, as did your touch. You've c-calmed me in ways no one else has before," Sky murmured, her sobs ebbing away like the tide.

"There's my brave girl. You are my brave girl, aren't you?" he cooed, his words a gentle affirmation of her courage.

For a fleeting moment, she tensed, but then a smile unfurled against his chest, a silent testament to her shifting emotions.

"Can I really w-watch any Disney movies I like?" she inquired, her face emerging from the sanctuary of his chest to meet his gaze with those captivating blue eyes he so adored.

"Anything for you," he assured her, his voice a warm blanket of comfort. "We can whip up some popcorn, bake cookies, or even a cake. Or perhaps you'd prefer to join me in the garden, plant some flowers, or we could go fishing. What do you think?" he proposed, listing activities that he believed would bring her joy.

"B-bake? Can we really?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect.

He responded by gently encircling her waist with his hands, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Yes, anything," he affirmed, his heart swelling with happiness at her brightening mood.

Her giggle, pure and delightful, filled the air as she wiped away the last of her tears and squirmed in his lap, eager to stand.

"Can we… can we go now? I want m-my Bren now," she chirped, her enthusiasm infectious and her spirit lifted.

He guided her to the passenger seat, ensuring her comfort before securing the seatbelt around her.

Gently patting her cheek, he nudged her lower lip with a tender touch and started the car. This time, she remained unflinched, prompting a smile to grace his face.

"My brave girl, aren't you?" he voiced, his happiness resonating in the air.

"I am… I am brave? I think b-because I met you," she responded, her voice a mix of wonder and affirmation.

"Mhmm," he hummed in agreement, a sound of shared understanding. "Shall we head to Bren first? Please tell me your address. I'm already looking forward to our movie night."

After she nodded and provided her address, he drove off swiftly, eager to retrieve her beloved stuffie.

In the back of his mind, he knew he had to text his parents later to inform them he'd be home by evening. He anticipated his mother's ire for his absence the previous night, and his father's disapproval loomed in his thoughts.

His words were a whisper, "I'm happy that I got my happy girl back; you scared me earlier, baby."

At his confession, she stiffened, a shadow crossing her features. "I'm s-sorry," she murmured, her gaze darting away from his lingering eyes before he refocused on the road.

He reassured her with a gentle firmness, "I told you, right? You don't have to be sorry. Okay? I want to make you comfortable with my presence. It would really make me happy."

Gratitude shimmered in her voice, "T-thank you. You're an angel. I thought it would only be in my dreams that I would meet someone like you… but you came along at the most unexpected time of my life. You calmed me during my panic attack, gave me hope and assurances. It's more than enough… you're more than enough… my prayers were heard." She inhaled deeply, finding strength in her revelation. "I'm so lucky to meet someone like you. My mommy always says that she loves Daddy, and she's so lucky to have him, but Daddy always h-hurts her. I guess my mom really loves him, and I guess this feeling I'm experiencing right now is the same f-feeling my mommy feels for Dad. But I believe you're not like my Dad."

The words nearly strangled him, a sob caught in his throat. Her uncertainty, stemming from past wounds, made her fear that he might be like her father. The thought pierced his heart with a sharp pang of pain.

But he vowed silently, with every fiber of his being, he would never hurt her, not in any way.

"I'm so sorry you feel this way, but I promise, I'm nothing like him. I'll never hurt you," he vowed, his plea for trust hanging between them. "Let me prove myself. I want to take care of you. Can you let me?"

Sky fidgeted, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I… you don't need to care for me. I'm grown enough. I don't want to be a burden," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"A burden?" he echoed, incredulous. "That's absurd. You're an angel, not a burden. My little Sky."

Her voice was faint, "I… I appreciate you."

"And I appreciate and cherish you," he affirmed, his heart swelling with emotion.

For a moment, he thought he saw a smile flicker at the edge of his vision. And indeed, there it was—a smile so wide and bright, it threatened to outshine the sun itself.

She was his angel, his Little Sky, and in that smile, he found an entire universe of hope and promise.

***

Mary Joye.