It took a bit since this place was a maze, but I finally found Roger. He wasn’t physically injured, but his chest was breathing heavily. I opened the unlocked gate.
“Jill!” His voice glittered with relief. His bright smile was replaced with a rather disgusted one. My appearance must have jogged a few questions.
While heading over to untie him, I asked, “Did Sylvia cause you any problems?”
“Not as much as you do.”
Why would he joke around with someone who was in the middle of saving his life? I shook it off and continued my task.
“Are you ok, Jill?”
Probably one of the more sensible questions he had.
I nodded my head, assuring him I was okay. Judging by my appearance, I didn’t blame him for worrying about me. I was banged up pretty badly. The bandages on my hand were loose, revealing blood.
When I finished uniting his limbs, he got up and howled out a stretch. He examined the rope marks that circulated his wrist.
His mouth moved, but no word came out. Well, that was a lie. Words did come out, though I ignored them. His face was the only thing my body focused on. Whatever he said made him smile. He could still smile after everything that happened.
I took a step forward, putting my arms around his waist. My hands couldn’t touch each other.
“Woah, you, um…” His stuttering voice told me he wasn’t expecting it. I couldn’t blame him. It’s been a while since I gave Roger a genuine hug. I mainly yell at his obnoxiousness or backhand him for eating all the food.
My life wouldn't be the same even after complaining to him countless times. The cabin is always quieter when he’s not around, and there is no mess to clean up. I could eat extra without someone asking for it, even though he had five servings already. He’s so stupid.
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My cheek pressed against the top of his chest. His head's weight added to mine. His arms allowed me to breathe—a gentle hug from a usually irritating giant.
"Uh, Jill, you’re crying?"
"Shut the hell up," I stated. He didn't need to point out my sniffles.
Allow me to enjoy this moment in peace.
***
I left Lyghtenberg, my server job, and Mia started fresh from the ground. I was alone with Owen in the cabin when I wanted to go hiking.
On my hike into randomness, I came across a giant chopping thick pieces of wood into two. He was much bigger than the average person. His biceps were bigger than my head, and his shoulders made it difficult to pass through doors.
Next to him was a pile of chopped and unchopped wood. In total, there were more than I could count. Way more.
I walked over and questioned him about his chopping. He was too shy to say anything. He backed away until he bumped into a tree. He tucked the ax close to his chest, his eyes darting everywhere.
Did he know me? Was my appearance familiar? I wasn't sure why he acted the way he did.
He asked if his father summoned me to check on him. I assured him I didn’t know who his father was. He claimed his father would ask random people to check on him to see if he was slacking. If he did, he was destined for a beating. From a safe distance, I examined his arms (clothing covered everything else). I noticed multiple bruises inflicted by who knows what. He wouldn’t say.
Instead, he balled his heart out. He sobbed loud enough for the ground to rumble, loud enough for mountains to collapse. He let it all out as if he never got the opportunity to do so.
I didn’t even have to ask. He freely opened up about everything. His father was beyond abusive, using his child as a weapon. Ever since he could walk, he was forced to build a muscular body to man's potential. He was prohibited from expressing emotion, or he’d be considered ‘weak.’ No friends, no laughs, no cries, nothing. Why? Because his father wanted him to be the strongest man alive. Why? So no harm could be done to him. Ironic.
After witnessing someone with a uniquely large stature—arms bruised by their creator, tears that have never been seen by another person, and a body used as a workforce—the giant had no purpose for being so timid. But he was. Terrified of everyone around him, his only source of tranquility was isolation. Everyone else around him inflicted harm. The people who snitched did him harm. His father did him harm. Everyone. How could anyone trust after that?
But even after hearing his cries, I touched his arm. I offered him the opportunity to join me on my journey to restart life. I told him he could start his journey—one where he no longer had to be afraid.
The Roger I first saw was nothing like the Roger I hugged in the cell.