Free Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5) by Airicka Phoenix

gasped, scampered back, tripped and hit the floor with a force that made him wince. She scuttled back, her eyes enormous now, glistening with tears.
     
    “ Stop it!” he screamed again, furious now with himself, with her. “Stop running!”
     
    She did, only to curl her seven year old body up, drawing her knees to her forehead and wrapping her arms over her head. She was rocking. Rocking and sobbing…sobbing.
     
    A snarl left him before he could stop it. The wall took his frustrations with a vicious kick. Her whimper tore at him.
     
    “ Stop crying!” Panic edged into his plea. He dropped down in front of her, grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Stop crying, Amalie!”
     
    Eyes the color of a summer sky rose up, wet with tears and brimming with fear met his over the folds of her arms. “Don’t hurt me!” she pleaded.
     
    His hands dropped away. He fell back on his haunches , glowered. “I’m not going to hurt you, stupid. You’re such a big baby!” He wiped his damp palms on his pants. “Come on. I’ll play your dumb game. Just quit bawling.”
     
    She sniffled, wiped her nose on her arm. “I’m not a baby!”
     
    He snorted, got to his feet. “Sure you’re not.” he stretched his hand out to her, hesitant. He hated people touching him, but didn’t mind it so much when it was her. “You can have my turn.”
     
    Her face was still streaked with tears, but she smiled, slow, tentative. “I’m going to hide real good this time!”
     
    ***
    Isaiah jolted, bolted upright, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Darkness pressed around him, crushing him in the memories…the nightmares. God would he never be free of them? Of her?
     
    He swiped damp hands over his sweaty face, back into his hair, struggling to control his breathing. His gaze swept over the dark interior of the Buick, at the back of Lew’s head, the side of Bruce’s face, the stretch of nothingness all around them. Had he fallen asleep? It couldn’t have been for very long.
     
    Through the windshield, the headlights sparked off the silver gates guarding home, and his stomach muscles clenched. He had to bite his lip to keep from telling Lew to pull over and let him out. He had to remind himself he had no reason to run. He had done nothing wrong. He’d stopped it before it could go too far, hadn’t he? He’d destroyed them both to keep her safe. Didn’t that count for something?
     
    No, he realized as the car rolled through the opening, into the circular driveway paved in marble. It wasn’t enough. His betrayal, he would never be able to pay that back. What he’d done to Amalie…he deserved hell. He deserved torture. He deserved this!
     
    A new sort of apprehension iced his skin as a chilling realization struck him — his sanity would never survive this place.
     

     

Chapter 7
    Amalie

     
    Four walls of tiles. One floor of laminate. One ceiling speckled with glittered stucco. One tub. One sink. One toilet. Amalie stood immobilized on the threshold between her bedroom and a bathroom she’d used a million times.
     
    Behind her, October poured a sick, gray light into her room, darkening all the corners. The heavily regulated oatmeal perfumed the air with its aroma of burned rubber, overcooked sewage and medication. Rivers of ice flowed through her veins, hardening in her system until she was sure any movement would result in the shattering of limbs.
     
    Her gaze flittered to the shower head, dripping steadily into the china basin. It shot to the sink faucet. Her stomach knotted. Bile coated her throat.
     
    It’s not the same! It wasn’t the same. She had control here. She could turn it off!
     
    With terror chilling the inner linings of her abdomen, she edged into the room. Her kneecaps squeaked in protest. The floor was colder than usual against the bottom of her feet as she shuffled to the sink and stopped. There was a tremor in her fingers as she reached for the nozzle.
     
    The first pulse of rushing water