𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟 by Rosalei N. Bock at Inkitt

Lullabies for the Weak

Miles wanted to leave. He wanted to snatch Flora into the safety of his arms and run away. He wanted to leave.

But he couldn't. Quint wouldn't let him. Every time Miles even thought about leaving, Quint would threaten Flora. His mind would be filled with images of all the ways Quint would violate her, hurt her.

And that was enough to keep him here, in this cursed mansion, for all of eternity.

He thinks Kate is starting to figure out what's going on here. It's his fault, mostly.

Miles doesn't do it intentionally, it's all Quint's fault. Quint corrupts his brain and takes over, making him do creepy, scary things that Miles doesn't want to do. Sometimes, it's like Miles is watching a horror film, watching himself do horrible, messed up things that make him want to throw up. When he tries to fight back, tries to defend himself, he feels hot, unbearable pain that makes him want to scream. He's reminded of how he felt when that happened, and he doesn't want that. Sometimes he spaces out, all he can hear is a loud buzzing in his head. He twitches and spasms without meaning to, and at other times, he doesn't see or hear anything at all, just a colorless, silent void.

“Miles?” Flora's voice grounds him, brings him back to earth.

Miles turns to Flora, plastering a fake smile onto his face. “Yes, Flora?”

His little sister stares at him, long and hard for a few second before continuing. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

Miles's smile falters, but only for a moment though, before snapping back into place. He chuckles and gently slings his arms around his sister's shoulder. Miles hugs her tight. “Of course I'm okay, Flora. Just a little tired, that's all.”

It wasn't entirely a lie, but not the full truth, either.

Apparently, his smile and laugh were convincing enough, because Flora immediately brightens.

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby so you can sleep?” she says.

Miles almost cries, his stomach tightening and tears clawing at the back of his throat. He feels his throat closing up, making it quite difficult to breath and speak. His smile is still wide and bright on his face. “I'd love that, Flora.” he whispers once he can speak again.

God, he loves his sister so much.

Flora grins, happy and glowing, and Miles feels his own smile become more genuine in response of her happiness. He watches with tearful eyes as Flora searches for the perfect pillow, placing it on her lap and patting it. “So you have nice, soft place to put your head!” she explains.

Miles nods before laying his head down onto the pillow, curling into a small ball with his knees drawn tightly to his chest.

His eight-year-old sister begins to sing, one hand in his hair and the other cupped around his shoulder. Miles closes his eyes and relaxes, breathing out a soft, heavy breath.

“Sleepy yet?” his sister whispers, pausing for a moment.

Miles nods. “Keep singing, you're such a great singer. After I wake up, I'm gonna need your autograph.”

He hears Flora laugh, and he doesn't have to look to see her smile. She starts singing again.

He falls into the first calm sleep in weeks. No nightmares, no ghost hands touching him, just quiet, peaceful dreams.

Miles blinks his eyes open, confused. Had he fallen asleep? Without waking up and screaming? Then he remembers where he slept.

He turns his head to see if Flora was still here, only to be meet with the fabric of the couch. Miles sighs, sitting up and groaning when his back popped.

“Miles?”

Shit. Kate.

She sounds worried, maybe. Miles doesn't know.

“What?” he snaps. He doesn't mean to. He really doesn't.

Kate stands there, short blonde hair a tangled mess. She just woke up. Her icy blue eyes are tired but concerned. “I just heard you groan and thought you fell off the couch or something. . .” she trails off.

Miles stares at her. “My back popped.” he says flatly.

Kate looks embarrassed. “Oh, sorry,” he doesn't know what she'd apologizing for, he doesn't ask her.

He doesn't answer her, turning away. He's about to walk out of the room when a hand curls around his wrist. He swallows down a whimper and rips his hand away from Kate, flinching away.

Kate looks shocked. “Miles, I didn't —”

“Don't ever fucking touch me again.” Miles whispers, his voice a growl.

He can feel Kate's stare burning holes into the back of his head as he walks out.

That's it, Kate. Miles thinks, Figure it out. Save us.

Save Flora.

Save me.

Miles can feel his mind breaking. It's more noticeable now, he can feel his sanity slipping away and he feels like his mind is being reconstructed and taken apart and put back together again, all wrong and crooked.

Miles is always shaking now, whether it's his leg or his hand or his whole body, he doesn't realize he was doing it until he stops. He's figured out that when he spasms and twitches, it means he's not there. His brain floating off like a balloon.

His memory is fucked up, too. The days fly past in blur, bits and pieces of things Miles can remember.

He's just waiting until Kate figures it out. Waiting, waiting, waiting. . .

“Miles! We have to leave! It's not safe!”

He smiles. He doesn't have to wait anymore.

Good job, Kate.

“I can't,” he says. “He won't let me.”

Kate's eyes flash with fear and horrible realization.

Miles feels like laughing.

“Quint?!”

“He hurt you, didn't he?”

Miles feels like crying.

“You knew this whole time?!”

“What if he hurt Flora?!”

Miles feels like dying.