Levi crossed his arms and tucked his hands in his armpits in a stance that was clearly defensive. “With all of that shit going on, no wonder I dreamed of the box again. I haven’t had a nightmare about that place in a long time.”
“What’s the box?” Trudy watched with growing concern as his face tightened, jaw muscles flexed, and his eyes clouded with turbulent memories.
“A root cellar. A small place. Standing up, you could extend your arms out from your sides and touch the walls. It was cool and damned cold in there at night.”
“Where was this?”
“The Missouri Ozarks. Out in the wilds. It was a school set up on an abandoned farm property. They’d turned the farmhouse into a dormitory and the barn into a school.” He made a scoffing sound. “Not that they provided much of an education. Mostly, we read and memorized the Bible. There were classes in literature, English, math, a little science and geography here and there, but that was about it.”
“How old were you when you went there?”
“Nine. When I arrived I had just turned nine. I left when I was almost eleven to go to a school in Wyoming.”
“Nine.” She took up her own defensive stance, hunching her shoulders and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Thinking of him as a nine-year-old being carted off to a place where he was schooled in a barn made her skin break out in gooseflesh. “I don’t know how your parents could send their little boy away like that.”
He gave an indolent shrug that she didn’t buy for one second. “They were trying to chase the devil out of me.”
“Idiotic,” she murmured.
“They put us in the box when we were bad.” One corner of his mouth lifted fractionally. “And I was bad. Bad to the bone.”
“What do you do that was so terrible?” She couldn’t imagine any sane reason to put a child down into a hole.
“I refused to say that my father was right and that I was a liar.”
“About your psychic abilities,” she clarified. “So, it was a religious thing with your parents? They truly felt that your abilities were a sign of evil . . . of the devil?”
“That’s what my father thought . . . or that’s his story and he’s sticking to it.” A quick, half-smile flitted across his lips. “He’s an intelligent man, so I’ve always believed that he’s mainly intimidated by my abilities. He’s a classic narcissist. Therefore, it must be impossible for him to think that I can do things he can’t. As for my mother?” He gazed up at the stars and violet shadows caressed his achingly handsome face. “I don’t know. She probably wished I’d just tell my father what he wanted to hear and do what he said to do. That’s what she did. She went along with whatever shit he shoveled out.”
She wanted to touch him. No, she wanted to hold him, but she stood still as her heart constricted with pain for him. She wanted to cry, but she knew he didn’t want her tears, so she swallowed the burning ball of emotion in her throat. He was talking and she was grateful, but what he was saying was difficult to hear. His upbringing had been a long nightmare from which he couldn’t awaken – and he was just scratching the surface. That’s what bothered her more than anything. His traumas ran deep. Soul deep.
“And the box?” she asked in a whisper. “How long did they keep children in there?”
“An hour at first. Then hours. I graduated to all day and then to all day and all night. The nights were the worst. It was cold in there and black as pitch. That’s when the rats would come out.”
Trudy couldn’t stop the shudder that shook her from head to toes. She cleared her throat. “R-rats?”
“Big mother-fuckers. Of course, I was only a kid, so they seemed like they were the size of Volkswagens. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them scurrying around and I could feel them. They’d run across my feet. One of them jumped on my shoulder and bit my neck. I screamed and screamed. Screamed my fucking lungs out that night.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. “That’s why my voice is husky. I damaged my vocal chords. I couldn’t talk above a whisper for a couple of months after that and my voice never fully recovered.”
“I love your voice,” she said, the declaration lifting from her heart onto her lips.
“Really?” He shook his head and sent her a baffled grin. “I think I sound like a bad actor doing a commercial for sore throat lozenges.”
She shook her head and decided to allow her heart to keep talking. “Your voice matches the rest of you. Sexy as hell.”
His arms slipped down his body and his shoulders lost some of their stiffness. He held out a hand to her. “Come here, you.”
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