TW: Violent acts including emotional, sexual, and physical abuse and acts against children are discussed throughout the chapter. Please be aware, as I do not want to purposefully trigger anyone.

I remember this chapter genuinely draining me to write. It brought me to tears more times than I could count. All of my character's stories merge into my own traumas and bits of my struggles, and in a way, it is a comforting factor to be able to write their story how I wished my own had went so many times. It is my idea of taking the story into my own hands, and it is such a healing factor for me. That is why I love Kimberly and Maggie and their strengths SO much.

All of these characters have such a piece of me in them. Thank you for allowing me to share them with you. Writing is genuinely the most healing thing I have ever experienced, and it has always been the thing to help me through my struggles.

As someone who has never been heard or talented in quite literally anything lol, it astonishes me that people actually find joy and enjoyment in my writing. It literally shocks the heck out of me. Every read, vote, and comment just makes me so happy and appreciative. Thank you guys so much for it all.

Again, please don't forget the TW! This chapter is fundamental to Maggie's character, but please don't make yourself uncomfortable. If you want, you can skip to the last two pages, and that should be fine!

"I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become." — Carl Jung
————————————————————

Chapter 38
<—————————————>

Luke

I didn't like the color yellow.

Just pronouncing it made me roll my eyes. Hearing it aloud made me want to walk away mid-conversation, no questions asked.

It was just one of those things that annoyed the shit out of me.

Right now, though, for the first time in nineteen years, I loved it. I was pretty sure it was now my favorite color.

Maggie was right outside, a bright, yellow hoodie covering her body. It was hugging her curves despite the intent of it. She was playing with Fang, who was head over heels with the girl.

I didn't know what was up with that dog. Every time he saw me talk to her, it felt like he was side-eyeing me, just waiting for me to get the fuck out of the way so that he could have her to himself.

I rolled my eyes, watching as he rolled onto his back for her. She didn't even have a treat, which I always needed to get him to do that. Spoiled little asshole.

My attention jumped back to Maggie, who was laughing at him. Her pretty face was lit so beautifully, I felt my knees wobble despite me already sitting.

Here we go, again.

Shoving a hand down my face, I shook my head. I needed to get a grip. A little sleep would help, too.

I'd barely gotten any last night. I stayed up with Maggie, and watched a shit ton of Harry Potter until she fell asleep, and then waited to check for nightmares just in case that bastard, Lowen, set them off.

Involuntarily, my hands tightened into fists all over again. I didn't want to think about that son of a bitch for too long. If I did, I'd gladly go back, and bury a bullet in the fucker's skull.

What I gave him wasn't punishment enough. Not in the slightest. Had I heard anymore of his twisted bullshit, I would have torn his tongue out with my bare hands, and shoved it right back down his throat until he choked. His hands would have been a necklace for me had he even thought to touch Maggie, again.

Either way, his hands, knees, and business were gone, now. I made the calls the moment we got home.

By tomorrow morning, Moarde's Automotive would be gone. An accidental, not so accidental, fire. I was having a tip sent in to his wife, as well. I wasn't letting that fucker have anything to crawl back to.

I didn't give a fuck about broken reputations or broken families. That bastard made his own bed the moment he touched Maggie.

Men who touched women without their consent were little bitches who wanted a sense of power for once in their worthless lives, and there was nothing else to that. Except, Lowen had no idea who was coming right behind the girl he tried to hurt.

I wasn't sure why she didn't want to tell me at first. Sure, I was a bit dramatic in some situations, but not this.

It didn't take too much to realize something was wrong from the moment I saw her. I could read through her like a paperback, without issue.

Over these past few months, I'd realized one undeniable thing: if we were in a room with a million people, with a million different opinions and thoughts, with a million sets of eyes, I would still recognize Maggie. Every single time. Without a doubt.

I'd tried to fight it, but it was inevitable. Truthfully, it was just kicking my ass.

Regardless though, I could handle it. I could pretend. I wasn't scared of shit, let alone one, or a million little heart palpitations when it came to being around her.

Or, when I hear her. Or, when I see her smile. Or, when I see her, in general.

Instantly, my mind reverted back to the night I'd found her with choke marks around her neck. My stomach fell at it.

A fear crept upon my back in a cool dread, gripping me in its grasp with no remorse. I was scared. Fucking terrified of what I'd seen.

I was more scared that I'd been more worried about losing her as a whole, rather than just as an employee. That title was long gone, at least for me. It'd been gone for a while, apparently.

She hadn't brought up my proposal about moving in, which I assumed meant that she hadn't heard me.

Either way, I was more perturbed at bringing it up now, than I was back then. It wasn't just a normal thing you brought up to the girl you once threatened to run over.

But, here we were.

I wanted her to be safe. To be secure, and as strong as I know she is. When it came to that part of her life though, and what she told me about her dad, I saw fear, which sparked my own.

Maggie Norris didn't get scared, so when she did, it was for a reason.

I didn't like that. I didn't like someone having that type of hold, and thinking that they could keep it. That they could use it. Her.

Fuck that.

I didn't care what type of resentment Maggie might grow toward me, I wasn't throwing in the towel. There wasn't a towel to throw in. I didn't give up on shit, and I sure as hell wasn't giving up on this, or her.

I didn't know how dangerous the situation was, but I knew it was evident enough in the choke marks on Maggie's neck.

It wouldn't happen ever again.

I didn't give two fucks who I'd have to destroy to keep that in order. No one laid hands on her without losing them.

I leaned back into the chair, cupping my face with an exaggerated sigh. Jesus.

Here I go again, practically claiming the girl as my own when that was far from the truth. She would probably knock me upside the head if she ever heard any of it.

I wasn't quite sure why I wanted to keep her safe. Why I held her while she slept. Why I laid awake, already excited just to hear her voice, again. Why I drove miles away from town to get her her favorite food, just to see her smile.

I wasn't sure of any fucking thing.

I could pass the first as just being a decent human being, but that was the thing. I wasn't. I wasn't the sympathized villain, or the golden boy. I was a selfish prick who never gave a fuck about anyone but a select two.

Until now.

I shook my head, glaring at the pad of the mouse. There was nothing I could do to fight these thoughts now that they were on.

I'd tried day and fucking night, but every time i tried to suppress, it only came back harder, with much less patience and much more perseverance. All I could do was wear my facade, and wait for the shitload of feelings to disappear.

I had no room for it.

My eyes followed the beaming girl on the other side of the glass, who was too busy teaching Fang new tricks. I rolled my eyes at their new little friendship. I couldn't trust either of them together for too long.

I jerked my gaze away after I realized I'd been staring for far too long. Fuck. I'd found myself doing it much more than I liked to admit with Maggie.

Just as I pretended to be interested in something on the laptop, my phone buzzed to the side of the table. I picked it up, and checked over the name, despite already having a good guess.

I was right. Preston, my mouth and ears in every aspect of snooping and hacking, was calling. My finger slid over the screen to accept it.

I put it on speaker, placing it down to the side of my laptop. "What's up?"

At his silence, my suspicions grew. I leaned back into the chair, tangling my fingers on top of my stomach. "Preston," I called out. "This better not be another booty-call, man."

Finally, I heard rummaging from his side. "Shit," he cursed, the sound echoing through the quiet room. "Where the fuck have you been, man? I've been trying to call you all day."

I rolled my eyes. "You have?" I knew it, but I didn't want to wake Maggie by answering it, so I just put it on silent. I meant to call him back later, but I'd forgotten. "Silly me."

My eyes skipped to Maggie, again. The house was mostly of glass and tall windows, which I planned to cover, soon. Only the people from the inside could see outside, not vice versa, but I didn't want Maggie to be cautious of it.

Right now though, I was enjoying the view.

And, fuck, was it something else.

Her smile was so big, it was a plentiful light source on its own. When it turned into a soft laugh, I thought my eyes would dry out from how long I stared. My ears were straining just to keep the melody from disappearing.

I didn't want to miss a single beat. Just knowing that it would end only filled me with dread. It wasn't fair; something so perfect should never have an ending.

Her black hair was down, again, gracefully grazing her shoulders. Every time the strands swept toward her face, she'd attempt to tuck them away, but to no avail. The very sight had me wondering how I'd went without it for so long.

I wasn't even sure if she realized, but I noticed that she only let her hair down at her house, or around me. Somewhere where she was comfortable. Which meant that she had to be comfortable with me.

I bit back my own grin, but it fell on its own as the handles tumbled around in my stomach.

Oh, shit.

Was I having butterflies?

I shook the thought, the feeling, her away. There was no way in hell. I wasn't having shit, but constipation.

"Luke! You hear me?"

I blinked, then did it again. And, again. Just enough to realize that Preston was talking to me.

I moved my eyes away from those two brats outside, instead looking back to my laptop. "Fuck, my bad. I'm here."

Preston sighed into the phone. "Listen...it makes me sick to even think about this shit, but—"

I blinked, again. My mind was all fuzzy after just watching the girl for a couple of seconds. "Wait," I paused, leaning into the conversation. "Think about what shit?"

"That chick," he started, clearing his throat. "Maggie Norris."

Instantly, I turned my attention back to him, and why he had her name. "Yeah," I said, slowly. "What about her?"

He paused to clear his throat. It was around noon right now, so he was probably smoking his stoned heart out.

"I know it took me a longer than usual, but that was because of the amount of shit I'd found, and when I tell you...man, it's fucking crazy." He blew out a tensed breath. "I couldn't even make it past the first statement without throwing up."

It took me a minute to register what was being said. It took me even longer to understand why it was being said.

During all of this, I'd completely forgotten that I'd asked Preston to recover every square inch of Maggie's past. It'd been so long that I hadn't thought about it ever since then. If I would have, I would've canceled the request beforehand without a second thought.

Maggie had pissed me off, and at the time, I'd never in my fucking life thought I'd grow to care as much as I did about her. But, here we were.

I didn't want to have a place in trying to intrude on her past, and I didn't want her to think I did. It was hers to share on her own.

My lips parted to say, "Listen, man—"

Preston was still rambling, but by the time I spoke, he managed to get out, "There were so many images and videos that it was nearly impossible to catch the files in one place. I know that you only asked for the information, but no one deserves that shit, so I tried to get most of them deleted."

I blinked up at the ceiling. "Wait," I called out. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I managed to recover the court files, too, and fuck. If her dad doesn't die in that fucking jail cell, I'll gladly finish the job myself," he continued. "I—"

"Preston!" I barked, nearly snapping the chair back as I shot up. "Tell me what the fuck you're talking about."

He paused to suck in a breath. I was glad this was over the phone, because with all of these fucking pauses, I'd easily slap him out of pure aggravation.

"I don't...listen," he huffed. "Human trafficking, you know what that is, right?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from cursing him out. "Yes." I couldn't correlate his speech with anything concerning Maggie, though.

"Alright, well, most of those creeps and shit, they sell pictures of the victims through hub site's online, like dark web shit, and..." he paused again, but this time, I welcomed it.

I tried to find the missing pieces of the puzzle, and make them fit. When I did, the questions still remained.

So, Maggie had pictures of her going around on the internet? Was that why she moved here all of those years ago?

But, she was scared of her dad, from what I knew. How did they mix in with one another?

Maybe it didn't contrast with the other. Maybe the nude pictures situation happened in early high school, or some shit.

"You mean nudes?" I questioned, digging my nails into the phone.

I didn't give a fuck how old she was, posting a woman's body without their consent was wrong, nonetheless. If it could be traced back to the original post, I'd find whoever disrespected her privacy myself.

"Yes and no," Preston rushed out. "But, they're...they're—"

My patience was wearing out by the second. Finally, I forced out, "They're what?"

"They're of her. As a child. Maybe five or six years old..." his voice came to a near whisper. "And, there were thousands of them. The moment I realized, I got off and scrubbed the site clean of the files. I got some of the others, too. Erased them, and managed to trace the viewers to report them, but there's still—"

I didn't hesitate in my next saying. "Erase them."

He sounded taken aback. "What—"

"Erase them," I demanded, my voice stern. "I'll give you whatever the fuck you want. Five-thousand? Ten? A hundred? Name it, and you'll get it. Just get every single one of those images and videos off of the internet."

I knew Preston. He was a fucking genius. The best I'd known to get these type of things done, and as challenging as this would be, I knew he could do it.

I didn't care about the price; I didn't care about anything but getting that shit taken down.

"Okay," Preston rushed out, typing across his keyboard in the background. "There's so many files that I'll have to crack, and shit like that, but I'll get it done. I'll make sure to track the bastards that downloaded or viewed the files, too. It'll take a few weeks, maybe a month, at most."

A month. Shit. I knew it'd take a while, but I wanted those pictures wiped clean from the internet this same fucking minute. I wasn't even sure how long the pictures had been up, but he said that she was a kid.

She was a kid.

A baby.

My god.

As if I weren't already on a thin line, Preston spoke up, again. He cleared his throat first, the keyboard taps ceasing for just a moment.

"That's not it..." he started, again.

I shook my head, tightening my fist to stop from punching the daylights out of this fucking laptop. I swept my other hand down my face. "I can't handle anymore of this shit, Preston."

What the fuck else could there be?

"I know, I just...I didn't know if you two were close or some shit, but if so, there's something that you'll need to know," he explained hesitantly. "Her parents."

My eyes popped open to glare back at the screen. I tried to say something else, but my lips were trembling. I hadn't even felt the stung behind my eyes until now, or maybe I had, and just never addressed it.

I couldn't think right now.

Preston continued on, anyway, "Her father is Owen Norris. He's currently serving his sentence in the Kansas facility. Her mother is Kayla Reeves, and she's in the same facility."

My eyes remained on the screen. I couldn't even find the strength to twitch, right now.

"Kayla was sentenced nine years ago for child neglect, abuse, and a fuck ton of drug trafficking charges," he pulled in another sigh before letting it out. "Owen was sentenced nine years ago for child abuse, neglect, attempted murder, the filming and production of...those videos. Sexual abuse, and a bunch of others that correlate with just that charge alone." 

I heard his voice tighten through the line, "He did...things to Maggie from the age of five, until she was ten years old. Not only that...in his statement, he confessed that he usually let his friends join, watch, or film, as well. With the kit the hospital did on Maggie, they were able to use the DNA samples to identify, then trace some of the other men down, but the ones that they didn't get, Owen gave up to lessen his sentencing. Half of them are out on parole, already."

"Her twin brother, Jax Norris, was the one to report it," he continued in a tone that was struggling itself. "In the hospital statement, it reads that he was stabbed eight times. All pocket knife wounds. They found him in his sleepwear, bleeding out and nearly lifeless, right outside of the police station." I heard typing in the background before he spoke, again, "Everyone in their home neighborhood knew about what was happening to Maggie, so he couldn't and didn't count on them to help his sister. The only option he had was to go get it himself. He ran all the way to the police station to get help for her. Four miles, to be exact. The surgeons weren't even sure how he survived the first two, but he did. Before he passed out from the blood loss, he managed to give them his sister's name and their address."

"And, the file that I found on Maggie. Her hospital report alone... " his voice went quiet before it returned with a strangled edge to it. "Shit. I can't even say it without getting sick, again, man. I can't." I heard him draw out a sigh. "I know it's none of my business, but I couldn't help myself. The men who are out on parole; I put in an order for them all myself. They'll all be dead by the end of this week."

I heard him pause with his typing. "Owen is scheduled to get out late next month, and—"

I wasn't even sure how I grabbed the phone, or even managed to maintain a grip around it. All I knew was that one minute I had it, and the next, it was shattered against the wall. I couldn't listen to it anymore.

I tried to recall his words, but all I could manage was what he'd told me about her father. About Maggie. About what he did to her.

My mind was racing so fast, it physically hurt. I wasn't sure of which thought, or which emotion to remain on. The disgust or the fiery, hot rage that was beginning to blind me with its state.

Her father.

He hurt her.

He hurt her.

Oh my god.

I was going to be sick.

My hands went for the bag I'd had earlier. I barely held the contents in before they spilled out of me. The acid burned at the back of my throat, but I couldn't stop. I didn't stop until there was nothing left, but my dry heaving.

My vision blurred past it all. "What the fuck," I breathed out. "What the fuck, what the fuck—"

My eyes jerked up to Maggie. Her smile. Her strength. Her light. How it still remained intact after he...

I gripped the bag, again. Nothing came except the roll of my stomach, but I remained in place, anyway. I didn't think I was capable of doing much else.

After hearing everything, I was simply a corpse with a restless mind.

That same dread from earlier crept upon me so slowly, it made my body shudder in reaction. Shit. Shit. Shit.

My ears were ringing, the skin hot and tender. Everything was tender, at this point. Everything was so fucking confusing, and wrong, and—

Maggie.

Fuck. She was so strong. She was so fucking strong.

And, all along, she had this to deal with. Her and her brother, but now, just her. That was why she wanted to keep me away—

Fuck.

The scars on her stomach. They did it. He did it. The nightmares. The pleads and cries while she slept. It was him, all along. It was her returning back to what he did. What they did.

The erratic thump of my heart should have been considered off-putting, but it was the least of my worries. It wasn't even a factor in my next couple of thoughts.

He had done the unexplainable to her. To my strong, strong girl. The girl who was still fighting for something that was never her fault in the first place.

Past the wreckage, I managed to recall Preston saying that he had already put a hit out on the other men. It was both relieving and angering. If anything, I wanted to be the one to take their life as they attempted to do her.

Her father was scheduled to get out next month. He had already started his attacks with the fake cop, and he wasn't even out, yet.

He thought she was alone that night on the road; he thought that she was alone in general, when that wasn't true. Not in the slightest bit.

I wasn't sure what he thought he'd do to her. I wasn't even sure if he had already started his next move.

All I knew was that he'd never, ever, touch Maggie, again.

He would never hurt her, again. He'd never even think he had a hold on her, again. Never again in his fucking life.

He hurt her. He took something from her. So many fucking things that were never his, or anyone else's to take.

I'd give it right back to her. I'd help her take it back. Never again would he have claim to it, to her, or her pain. Her life.

Because as long as there was air in my fucking lungs, I would make sure of it.