Chapter 304: Fears
*It doesn’t matter how scared you are, never show your fear or your tears. – Leigh Anne*
Six-year-old Rye sat on the bathroom counter with tears, snot and blood covering her face. Leigh Anne carefully dabbed at the bloody nose with a damp rag. The door was closed and locked, but they could hear the adults yelling.
Leigh Anne was wearing the black lace dress that the man had brought. Rye had put it on but quickly took it off. The material was itchy and made her uncomfortable. It looked more like what a woman would wear, not a little girl.
“Baby sister, you can’t tell anyone that mom hit you. Bad things will happen to dad.”
“Why does she hate me?” she sobbed in her childlike innocence.
“She doesn’t, baby sister.” Leigh Anne soothed. “It’s like daddy says, she loses herself.”
“She doesn’t hit you.”
“She hurts me in other ways.”
“I don’t like it when daddy goes away.”
“Me either, baby sister.”
A strong arm wrapped around her, and a familiar voice called to her through the memories and fear.
“Ryanne.” Chance whispered, pulling her close. “Rye, Duchess, wake up. It was just a nightmare.”
Opening her eyes, she realized that she was in their bedroom in the yellow house. The small lava lamp nightlight lit up the room and gave her a sense of security. With a sigh of relief, Rye slowly uncurled from the ball she was in. Turning towards her husband, she laid her head on his chest and let the tears fall. He held her gently to his side and when she reached for his hand, he offered it.
The nightmares still came. Not as often. Not as bad. She no longer took scalding hot showers in the middle of the night just to feel clean. But she still muffled her cries and screams.
“What if I hurt Michael?” Rye asked quietly to the silent room.
“You’re not going to hurt Michael.” Chance assured her.
“Abused children become abusers as adults.”
“Abused children with no help, no therapy, no support.” He gently corrected. “Those are the ones that become abusers. But you, my beautiful Duchess, are not going to become an abuser.”
“When we were in Germany, dad had to go somewhere for two months. Mom beat me and I had to stay home from school. I had to tell the teachers that I had been sick. Leigh Anne cleaned up my face and washed my clothes. It was different that time.”
“How?” he asked kissing the top of her head.
He held her close and tried to comfort her. He had ideas about what happened. Leigh Anne had been put in a terrible position trying to protect herself and her baby sister. From what he knew, Mike was unaware of how bad the situation was getting for his daughters.
“Mom had these friends. No matter where we lived, she always found these friends that dad didn’t like. They showed up one day after dad had left and they had these dresses for us. Black lace. I didn’t want to wear it because it itched.”
Chance bit back the comment he was thinking. Then he thought of the negligee in the drawer. She had said that she didn’t like it and now he wondered if it didn’t make her subconsciously remember that dress. That beating.
“Leigh Anne told me not to worry, we would just say it didn’t fit. The men were furious that I wasn’t wearing it. They couldn’t take my picture without the dress. Mom slapped me several times. I fell and ended up with a bloody nose. And then they were all yelling and the guy with the camera was taking pictures.”
“Mother fucker.” Chance muttered.
He knew the type of pictures that the men were wanting to take. Mia had done the beauty pageant circuit as a child and teen. There were always ‘agents’ and ‘specialty photographers’ that were willing to take pictures of the girls.
Coon with his scared skin could seem very intimidating. Patch and Deuce were equally intimidating in their leathers. But the man that scared the creeps off the most was Pops with his easy grin and no-nonsense way of telling them he was old. Life in prison wouldn’t be long for him, and the creeps’ body would never be found.
Chance was suddenly wondering who in the Saints could help him find these bastards. He would get in touch with Dom. She had more connections in the underworld than Werewolf. And she had an extreme dislike of pedophiles and creeps in general.
Rye swiped at her nose and eyes; the action focused his attention back on her.
“Leigh Anne took me to the bathroom and cleaned me up. The week before dad got home, mom took me out of school, and we went to this big house. There was this room, and it had a long rack of dress up clothes.”
She fell silent and he kissed her head. It clicked with Rye as to why her mother had taken her to that house, and she bolted for the bathroom. Chance followed her and filled a paper cup with cool water before wetting a rag with warm water.
“Why would anyone do that to their own child?” Rye asked into the toilet bowl.
“I don’t know, Duchess.” He said softly as he sat on the floor behind her rubbing her back. Not for the first time, he was grateful that Donna Leigh was dead.
Rye rinsed her mouth, swirling and then spitting the water into the toilet. Then she sat back and curled into his chest as he held her, letting her cry. Gently, he wiped the rag over her face.
“I always remembered that as one of the good times with her.” Rye whispered. “Now I know I really was nothing to her.”
“She may not have known what she had, but I do. You’re the world to me, Rye.” He held her close and rubbed her arm in a comforting motion.
“I don’t deserve you.” She murmured.
Tipping her face up to her, he gave her a light kiss. “I’m lucky to have you, Duchess.” He smiled at her and knew what she was thinking. “No empty promises. No hollow words.”
