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Tru Calling: Toy

"I'm not his toy," she tells me, an edge of defiance in her voice. "I got away. I still don't know how, but… I got away."

I sit silently beside her, listening to her words as they tumble out of her mouth in a quiet, but powerful way. For though her voice was soft, it was firm and something about the texture of her tone moves me emotionally in ways I had never thought possible.

After all, sitting beside me was Tru Davies, my supposed nemesis. But I was beginning to understand now why she had come to me. Why she needed my help, my support, my shoulder to lean on just for a moment and maybe even my…


I quickly pushed those intrusive thoughts away. I could not think about loving her, even though I found myself becoming attracted to her. I could not bring myself to think about loving her. Just being there. Just listening. All of my other feelings for her were too dangerous and the last thing I wanted to do was break her. She had come to me for a reason.

The reason was Jensen.

"I'm glad you did," I tell her quietly. "I'm glad you fought back and got away. You did the right thing."

"Sometimes I wonder about that," she says, her voice shaking slightly.

"About what?"

"About doing the right thing. About playing the role of heroine. Jack, I wanted to fight back. I know I had every right to fight back because he was hurting me, but I still think that if I-…"

I interrupt her.

"Tru," I whisper, as my hand reaches out to stroke her cheek. "Don't second guess yourself. You did everything you should have done."

A single tear falls down her cheek as she feels my fingertips gently wipe it away. She takes a deep breath. "I didn't know who else to call."

"I'm glad you called me. I'll help you get through this."

"Why? Why me? Why now?"

I look at her, smiling almost sadly, but with reserved respect.

"I thought that much was obvious," I whisper into her ear. My eyes don't miss the look of surprise that shimmer in the deep pools of her chocolate brown eyes. My lips brush against her forehead and I see some of the built-up tension leave her body. I know she feels something when I touch her, when I kiss her… she feels something. Maybe not exactly what I feel, but something. And though she doesn't kiss me back, I know she feels safe with me. She trusts me.

Sighing quietly, she slowly leans into me, her head eventually finding sanctuary against my chest as I carefully wrap a single arm around her. For now, she is safe. With me, she is safe. We stay in this position for a long time until…

"I'm not his toy," she says again, her whisper growing more intense with every word, though the volume of her voice remains unwavering. "I'm not some Rubik's cube that can be played with. I'm not some piece of cheap machinery that can be used until it is broken. When he yelled at me and pushed me against the wall of my bedroom, I could feel his breath on me. I felt him kiss my neck, trying to brand me. Marking me. But I fought back because… because I'm not a toy. Because I'm not his toy."

"You're absolutely right," I tell her, holding her against me and pressing a kiss into her hair. "You're Tru and I love you for being that. Nothing else. Nothing more. Just Tru."

She says nothing, but presses herself against me a bit more, trying to find a comfortable place on my chest as she yawns sleepily.

We settle into bed together as her head rests on my chest and my arm remains wrapped around the small of her back.

"I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through," I tell her. "But I do know that you're exhausted, so you should get some sleep. You're safe now. I'm here."

Moments before she slips into a peaceful slumber, I hear the words that chill me to my core as her final whisper remains lingering in the air, consuming my heart.

"I'm not his toy."