As his father had predicted, Tristan didn’t sleep well. He kept waking in the night, giddy butterflies rushing through him as he relived every second of his date with Helena. Yeah, he had it real bad…but he didn’t care. He was in love, and it felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Sitting up with a chuckle, he scratched his hair and straightened out the clothes he’d slept in. His plan of attack for the morning was to start researching ways to set Helena free.

Jumping through a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and headed downstairs. His father wasn’t around, but that wasn’t unusual. He always slept in on a Saturday. Tristan messed around in the kitchen, putting on some toast for himself and pouring a large glass of orange juice. He gulped it down while tapping his knife on the counter, waiting for his toast to pop.

His mind was racing, trying to decide where to start when he got back to his computer.

The toast popped and he pulled it free, dropping it on the plate with a light hiss and blowing on his fingertips. He eased the kitchen window open, letting a rush of cool air inside.

That’s when he heard it.

A faint yelling.

He normally would have ignored it, but there was something about the tone, and the fact that he could hear it from inside his house. It was a screaming flurry of words…a symphony of rage.

His brow furrowed and he glanced out the window, wondering who was kicking up such a stink. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the back door, popping it open to see if he could hear better.

“You can’t do this to me anymore!” A girl to his right screeched the words and Tristan’s throat restricted.

Helena.

His heart beat in triple time and he raced out the door, trying to get a better view of the green house.

“Let go! How could you betray me this way!” the dragon roared.

Tristan whipped down the driveway, frantically searching the house for an open window, trying to figure out where they were arguing. He couldn’t see the tower window from his angle, but it sounded like the shouts were coming from there.

That couldn’t be right. It was bolted shut. He’d pound on the door until someone answered. He didn’t care how long it took.

“I was safe. Nothing happened. He loves me, Mother. He wants to protect me. And I love him! I need to be with him!”

Tristan missed her mother’s response, but hearing Helena wail “No!” like she was in some kind of pain tore him in half.

“He’s tricked you! Turned you against me!”

Anger bubbled in Tristan’s chest, snorts puffing out his nose as he shouldered the gate open and ran across the raggedy lawn. He was ready to stomp up those porch stairs and start pounding the door. He wasn’t above giving that dragon a piece of his mind. He didn’t care if she called the police. He wasn’t letting her treat Helena this way.

“Helena!” the dragon screeched, fear lacing her tone. “What are you doing? Get back in here!”

Tristan froze. The panic in Mrs. Thompson’s voice had rapid breaths punching out of him. He ran around the house and paused against the gate, gazing up at the tower.

“Let me go! You can’t keep me from him!” Helena shouted.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating as he saw Helena dangling out the window. Her legs hung in the air, kicking around as she tried to find her footing.

The dragon’s arms came out the window, clutching at her daughter’s hands. “Stop this madness at once!”

Helena flicked her hands, scratching at her mother’s hold on her.

Tristan’s eyes bulged wide as she kicked her legs and fought. “Stop,” he breathed, barely able to say the words as he ran toward the base of the tower.

“Let me go!” Helena screamed again, her face bunching with fierce rage as she slapped at her mother’s hands. The tips of her toes were balanced on the edge of the trellis, a precarious perch that would not hold her if she didn’t stop struggling.

“Helena, hang on!” Tristan yelled, racing through the grass to reach her. “Stop fighting! I’ll help you.”

Fear pulsed through him, thrumming in his ears and nearly popping his brain when he heard Helena scream.

He skidded to a stop, staring up at the tower in horror as her body dropped through the air. Her long hair rose into the sky, hiding her face while her pale pink dress floated around her and she plummeted like a cannon ball.

“HELENA!”

Pumping his arms, Tristan sprinted to the bottom of the tower, but not before the thud.

The sickening, mind-numbing thud.

His stomach convulsed, his knees buckling as he dropped to the grass.

“No,” he cried.

Crawling through the overgrown lawn, he scrambled to her side, tears already blinding him.

“Helena!” her mother screamed from the window above. “Stay away from her! Stay away!”

Tristan ignored the hollering, stopping next to Helena’s motionless body. She’d landed on her back, her arms and legs spread as if she were floating in the water.

“Helena,” he whispered, brushing the hair off her face.

“Tristan.” She blinked up at the overcast sky, fear casting a shadow over her bright gaze. “Tristan.” She puffed out his name before sucking in a terrified breath.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” He brushed the hair off her face and kissed her forehead. “What hurts? Tell me how I can help you.”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Is your head okay? Do you have any pain?”

She shook her head slowly, her hair rustling in the long grass. “I’m not sure. Everything is sort of numb.”

“O-okay.” He patted her leg, nervously tapping her thigh as he tried to get his horrified brain to think straight. He gave her leg a little squeeze and smiled down at her, but her face was white with terror.

“What?” He leaned over her, searching her expression for any kind of clue.

“What was that patting sound?” she choked. “Are you touching my leg?”

His hands flew off her. “I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“I couldn’t feel it.” Her words wobbled while Tristan’s mind went numb. Closing his eyes for a second, he laid his hand back down on her leg and gave it a firm squeeze.

He opened his eyes and whispered, “I just squeezed your thigh. Anything?”

“I can’t—I can’t…feel you.” Her breath caught on the last word, a tear trickling out the side of her eye and gently rolling down her cheek.

The air in his lungs evaporated and it took him a minute to find his words. “It’s… I’m gonna—I’m gonna call an ambulance, okay?” His voice was deep and trembling, unfamiliar to his ears. He sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of mud, the words coming out slow and hazy. “I have to go and get my phone.”

“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, her chin trembling. He’d never seen her so petrified. He pressed his lips to her forehead, unsure what else to do.

“Tristan?” His dad’s voice reached him from over the fence.

“Dad, over here!” His head popped up, relief coursing through him. “Bring the phone! We need help!”

He reached for Helena’s hand, gently lifting it and kissing her wrist. She squeezed back and hope skirted through him. “You can move your fingers.” He tried to smile down at her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get you help. Everything will be okay.” He touched her cheek, leaning over her so she was forced to look into his eyes.

She blinked, sucking in a shaky breath, obviously trying to believe him.

He fought the tears that were clawing at his throat and trying to blind him.

“Get away from her! Get away!” Dragon lady appeared around the corner, a baseball bat in her hand.

Tristan whipped around to see her coming, his eyes rounding. She raised the bat over her head and screamed like a banshee as she charged.

Tristan raised his arm to block the blow, but the bat was snatched before she could deliver the brutal swing. Her body stumbled back and she thumped down on her butt.

“Hey! That’s my son!” Tristan’s dad towered over the woman, puffing like a rhino as he yanked the bat out of her hand and hurled it across the yard. It spun a couple of times before clanking into a tree and being swallowed by the grass.

The feeble woman shrank away from him, her ferocious expression crumpling to a look of terror. She crab-crawled back in the long grass, her arms giving out quickly. Landing on her side near Helena’s feet, she raked her gaze over her daughter, her blue eyes bright with liquid fear. Covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she let out a pitiful whine before disintegrating into a blubbering mess. Sobs punctured the air, making it hard to think straight.

Tristan leaned away from the crippling noise, wincing up at his father who was eyeing the woman with shocked disbelief. His gaze then traveled to Helena’s broken body, his expression folding with sympathy.

“What happened?”

“She fell,” Tristan croaked, pointing up at the tower window.

His father’s lips parted, his brow wrinkling. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

Yanking the phone from his back pocket, he dialed 9-1-1, spinning away from the heart-wrenching scene and pacing through the grass.

Tristan tuned out his father’s deep voice as he gave them all the information. Helena was still staring up at the sky. Her chin trembled. Her fingers kept squeezing Tristan’s hand as if to assure herself he was there.

“I won’t leave you,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against her head.

She didn’t respond, just closed her eyes while her chest heaved.

Her mother’s sobs eased, dying down to breathy hiccups as she crawled around to her daughter’s side. Her fluttering hand rested on Helena’s stomach.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.” Her tender smile and soft voice could’ve fooled anyone into thinking she hadn’t been the psychotic woman screaming at him less than five minutes earlier.

Tristan scowled at her. She caught his gaze and met it head-on, her blue glare enough to freeze his insides.

“Let go of my daughter.” Her slow command was wrapped in steel.

Tristan gripped Helena’s hand, his chin lifting in defiance. “She doesn’t want me to.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. Do you think this would have happened if you hadn’t filled her head with lies?”

“Lies?”

“Please, stop.” Helena’s whisper was so soft Tristan barely even registered it.

“You want to talk to me about lies! What the hell have you been feeding her for the last eight years? That the world’s going to hurt her?”

“It has,” the woman barked. “Look at her! If she hadn’t been trying to sneak out to see you, she never would have fallen!”

Tristan had a rebuttal but it was locked in his throat, held down by an overwhelming guilt. He couldn’t speak past it, couldn’t even think past the idea that he’d started all of this. Before him, Helena had been safe and happy in her imaginary world…and now she was lying on the ground, most likely paralyzed, and the chances of her ever breaking free were shattered.

A siren wail filled the air. Curious neighbors peeked out their windows and stepped onto their driveways as the ambulance pulled to a stop outside the mysterious green house.

Tristan was forced to let Helena go, stepping away so the paramedics could do what was needed. His body was numb, his ears ringing with Mrs. Thompson’s accusations.

Crossing his arms, he watched the paramedics brace Helena’s body and roll her onto a board, working in a calm, efficient manner while her mother jittered around behind them. They carried Helena through the tall grass and out the gate, sliding her into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut and Helena was whisked away from him.

She never called out his name or asked him to follow, so he stood by his father’s side, a desolate statue.

The moment the ambulance pulled away, his father’s hand landed on the back of Tristan’s neck. He gave it a light squeeze and gently led him back to the house. Tristan moved like a wide-eyed robot, shuffling down his driveway and up the back stairs. As soon as they were inside the kitchen, his father pulled out a wooden chair and plunked Tristan into it.

Tristan slumped down, his eyes narrowing in on the knotted bit of wood in the middle of the table.

He heard the fridge door open and shut, then the clunk of a can being placed in front of him. Condensation dripped down the side. Tristan reached for it, rubbing his thumb over the white and red Coca-Cola symbol.

Popping the top, his father took a few large gulps before pulling a chair out and sitting down. His stare was intense and unrelenting, his head tipping to the side before he let out a slow sigh. “Okay, bud, time to start talking.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And I need every detail.”