To Heal in Brooklyn’s Sunlight

He shut the door without a word, and the electronic click of the lock sounded like a gavel falling. I was trapped. The door had a passcode.

Then he went to take a shower.

The sight of those creatures must have unsettled him.

I sat obediently in the living room.

About an hour later, Caspian came downstairs.

He wore nothing but a bath towel slung low on his hips. His hair was still damp, and droplets of water traced paths down the hard lines of his muscles.

I tore my eyes away instantly.

"Once that house is cleaned up, you can move in. You can stay here tonight," Caspian explained.

I thought for a moment, nodded, and thanked him.

The house was huge; cleaning it alone would take me all night.

He strode toward me, and I rose to my feet, feeling like a servant awaiting orders.

Caspian’s hand shot out, his fingers clamping around my chin and forcing my head up. His grip was like an iron vise, warm and damp from his shower. The sharp, expensive scent of his cedar cologne filled my lungs, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Have you given up?" A flicker of curiosity crossed his face.

I nodded without hesitation. Any hesitation would be a betrayal of the two years I’d spent at Brook Valley.

That night, I had a nightmare.

There were countless pairs of eyes in my dream.

Hate, disgust, revulsion, contempt…

And every single one of them was in Caspian's eyes.

The next day, when Caspian was leaving for work, I asked him to drop me off in Chelsea.

As long as I stayed out of his way, he was agreeable.

My eyes fell on a hiring notice outside a chic floral design studio. I wondered if the owner would even consider someone with my lack of qualifications.

My college education had been cut short by my stay at the sanatorium.

"Are you here to apply for the job?" the owner asked, noticing me staring at the notice without coming in.

I nodded.

The owner looked to be in his late twenties.

He seemed easy to get along with.

The salary was enough to get by in New York, no degree required. All I had to do was show up on time.

I asked the owner for an advance on my salary.

Without money, I couldn't do anything.

I was to start tomorrow. The owner didn’t seem to think I was a flight risk, even with the advance.

I went to a used car dealership and bought a used scooter.

Once, this amount of money would have been nothing to me. Now, I found myself haggling over every dollar.

It wasn't that I didn't have parents. Two years ago, my family had abandoned me to protect the company's reputation.

And the only one who doted on me, my maternal grandfather, had long since passed away.

If Grandpa were still alive, would my life be this miserable?

I shook my head, trying to banish the futile thought.

I rode the scooter back to the brownstone in Carroll Gardens.

Caspian had sent people to clear the weeds outside.

The house was filled with dust and cobwebs.

It took me four hours to scrub the house clean, but much of the furniture and belongings were ruined beyond repair.

I was planning to throw out the useless things, but I accidentally fell off a ladder, sending things scattering everywhere and making a mess of myself.

My knees were scraped raw, and I was covered in a layer of grime.

A pair of custom-made Oxford shoes appeared in front of me; I didn't need to look up to know whose they were.

I pushed myself to my feet, my knees protesting with a dull ache.

"Mr. Hale, is there something I can help you with?" I’d switched from calling him Caspian to the more formal Mr. Hale.

It was safer to keep my distance. I couldn’t risk going back to that place.

"Grandma asked me to check on you," Caspian said with a frown.

"Please tell Mrs. Hale I'm fine. She doesn't need to worry," I said, then bent down and continued to clean up the mess.