He Broke Me To Save Me

My brain has always worked a little slower than everyone else’s. They called me "delayed." But the year I turned twelve—the year I was supposedly at my most foolish—I took a pair of kitchen shears to my hair, chopped it all off, and appointed myself the personal knight to Gideon Roth. Gideon was the illegitimate boy next door. The one who absorbed every ounce of the neighborhood's cruelty. When his vicious older brother locked him in the estate’s dog kennels, I threw myself at the chain-link gate to drag him out. The scars from where the guard dogs bit my arm are still there today. When someone intentionally shoved a heavy terracotta planter off a balcony, aiming right for his head, I tackled him to the concrete. The impact of the clay shattering against my skull is the reason my words still get tangled up on my tongue when I speak. Gideon used to look at me, his eyes dead and hollow, and ask, "What do you even want out of this, Ruby?" I didn't want anything. "I just want you to grow up safe," I’d tell him. "That’s enough." Because a child with no one to love them is the saddest thing in the world. He would stare at me in heavy silence, then mutter that I was an idiot. I let him say it. My parents called me an idiot, too, right before they dumped me with a cruel nanny and stopped coming home. But on the nights when that nanny locked me in the pantry, when I was curled up on the linoleum, clutching my cramping, empty stomach—it was Gideon who would sneak over. He would push half of his own meager dinner through the dog door, his voice barely a whisper in the dark. "Ruby Carmichael, you’re so stupid," he’d say. "I guess I’m just going to have to look after you for the rest of your life." Years bled into years. Gideon clawed his way up. He stepped on the throats of everyone who had ever tormented him, taking over the Roth empire and becoming a man people feared and respected. I was so happy. I sat around, buzzing with a quiet joy, waiting for Gideon to finally become my knight. Instead, the lock screen on his phone changed. It was a picture of a beautiful girl. It all came to a head the night we had dinner with his inner circle. "You’re on top of the world right now, Gid," one of his friends slurred over a glass of scotch. "Are you seriously going to marry the slow girl and drag her around for the rest of your life?" Gideon glanced at the beautiful girl sitting next to him. Without missing a beat, he drew a line in the sand. "I’d marry a stray dog before I married a half-witted tomboy." The private dining room erupted into roaring laughter. Sitting at the end of the table, I looked at him, smiled, and let out two little barks. "Woof, woof." Gideon turned his head, joining in the laughter. "Look at her," he said to the room. "Look how desperate she is to marry me. God, she’s pathetic." I smiled, too. "Gideon," I said softly, the words heavy on my tongue. "I was brave for you for fifteen years." I stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the hardwood. "Let me be a coward just this once. I resign. I’m not your knight anymore." … The room went dead silent for a fraction of a second, broken only when the girl from the photo let out a musical little laugh. "Gideon, you’re the ruthless head of the Roth family," Sylvia Belmont teased, her eyes sparkling. "Are you really still playing prince and knight?" Sylvia was beautiful. Effortlessly so. No wonder Gideon was always staring at her picture. But the way she spoke made my chest feel tight and uncomfortable. Gideon leaned back in his leather chair, a portrait of lazy arrogance. "When we were kids, I needed the little idiot to take a few hits for me. I just played along with her delusions to keep her useful." He reached out and tapped my cheek. Two condescending little pats. "Ruby, I’ve humored this knight game of yours for fifteen years. I’m exhausted." His eyes were flat. "Let’s be honest. I’m bored of you. What exactly do you expect me to do?" I stared at him, totally lost. "Just a game to keep me useful?" In high school, his brother Donovan hadn't wanted Gideon to rank first in the state exams. Donovan had cornered him in an alley with a steel pipe, aiming to shatter Gideon's writing hand. I had thrown my arms around Gideon’s neck, taking the blow to my collarbone. When I woke up in the hospital, Gideon was kneeling by my bed. He had looked at me with such fierce, agonizing sincerity. "Ruby, whatever good luck I was denied in the first half of my life was saved up just so I could meet you," he had whispered. "Heaven's very own knight." I dropped my gaze to the linen tablecloth. "I can leave." Because of my brain, I’d stopped developing intellectually around twelve. Everyone in the room knew I was slow. They didn’t bother hiding their cruelty. "You mean it, Gid?" one of the guys asked. "You and Sylvia are a power couple. Just cut her loose." Gideon crushed his cigarette into the crystal ashtray. The muscles in his jaw ticked. "Sure, she can leave. But where the hell would she go?" He scoffed. "Everyone in this city knows she took a lot of hits for me back in the day. If I throw her out now, I look like a monster. My reputation would take a hit." He was right. I had nowhere to go. When I turned eighteen, my parents legally washed their hands of me. "Your little brother is growing up," my mother had said, adjusting her designer coat. "He can’t have a sister like you holding him back." I had stood in the driveway, clutching the hem of my shirt, staring at the spot where their car had disappeared for three whole days. It was Gideon who finally came out, took my hand, and led me inside. "You have me," he had promised. "You protected me then. I’ll look after you for the rest of your life." I didn't realize a lifetime could be so short. Sylvia placed a manicured hand on Gideon’s arm, her voice dripping with pity. "I don’t mind, darling. I can help you take care of her." Gideon smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Just then, a nervous young busboy approached with a tureen of soup. His foot caught on the rug. The heavy bowl tipped, sending a wave of boiling broth straight toward Gideon. Instinct overrode everything. Just like I always had, I threw myself in front of him. The scalding liquid hit the back of my hand. The skin instantly puckered, angry white blisters bubbling up in seconds. Because I had deflected the worst of it, a few drops splashed onto the sleeve of Sylvia’s blazer. She shrieked, leaping out of her chair. "My jacket! It’s vintage!" Gideon slammed his whiskey glass down on the table. "Bang." "I literally just told you I’m done playing this knight game!" he snarled at me. "Stop being so delusional! Apologize to Sylvia right now!" I curled my burned hand into a fist. The pressure popped the blisters. Fluid wept down my knuckles. "I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out with my good hand. "I’ll… I’ll wash it for you." I carried her stained jacket out of the suffocating, noisy dining room. The moment I hit the hallway, the chill of the air conditioning wrapped around me. I pulled out my phone and dialed the only friend I had. "Juno?" I asked when she picked up. "Ruby? What’s wrong?" "When are you leaving for that volunteer program in the mountains? Can… can I come with you?" "What? Why? Ruby, the conditions up there are brutal. Are you sure you’re not scared?" I sniffled, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "Gideon doesn't need a knight anymore. But there are lots of other people who need protecting, right?" I gripped the phone tighter, suddenly embarrassed. "I know I’m a little slow, but I work really hard. Please don't be annoyed with me." Juno’s voice cracked over the line. "Ruby, I swear to God, you’re an angel. Why would I ever be annoyed with you? We leave in four days." When Gideon finally came home that night, I was sitting on the edge of the tub, clumsily trying to wrap gauze around my burned hand. He stopped in the doorway, pinched the bridge of his nose, and crouched down in front of me. "Stop it. You’re making a mess. Let me do it." I sat perfectly still, watching his dark eyelashes flutter as he focused on the bandages. It made me think of the first time I saw him. He was the byproduct of a wealthy man’s affair. He had just been dragged into the Roth estate. His older brother had locked a heavy chain around his neck and shoved him into a dog crate, demanding he bark. Gideon had looked up and seen me standing on the neighboring balcony. His eyes were so entirely dead. In that moment, my heart had shattered for him. When my parents tossed me to the nanny, I had looked at them with that exact same expression. I had hoped, deep down, that someone would stay for me. But I knew they wouldn't. I knew exactly how terrifying it was to be a child nobody loved. So, I had run to him. Gideon finished tying off the gauze. He reached up, his fingers brushing my hair, before resting his palm against my cheek. "Ruby. Back then, you said you didn't want anything in return for helping me. Does that still hold true?" I stared at him, numb, and nodded. He gave a tight, hollow smile. "Good. Because I plan on officially courting Sylvia. I’m not going to marry you. Having a wife like you… it’s a liability." People had called me a liability my whole life. An idiot. A burden. A curse to whoever got stuck with me. But Gideon used to be different. Back when we were teenagers, when he was still too weak to fight back against his brother, he used to take the beatings in silence. But the day some boys at school called me a retard, Gideon threw the first punch. He came to my house with a busted lip, his blood dripping hot onto the back of my hand. He had wiped my tears away with his thumb, laughing through the pain. "Are you crying because they said you’re too stupid to marry?" he had teased. "Well, what are we going to do about that? I guess as long as I don't mind, I’ll just have to marry you myself." His smile had been so real then. Now, he was smiling again, but it was painfully casual. "If you don't agree to the new arrangement," he said softly, "then… I guess you’ll have to leave." My brain was slow, but I understood this. He was absolutely certain I had nowhere to go. He was backing me into a corner. I shook my head slowly. "I hope it works out for you." The medical tape in Gideon’s hand hovered in mid-air. I went back to my room, feeling hollowed out. When I woke up the next morning, Gideon was already gone. I didn't remember what day it was until the bakery delivery service called to say the custom cake I ordered had arrived. It was Gideon’s birthday. The Roth family had always treated his birth like a plague. Growing up, his birthdays meant nothing but beatings from his father and brother. I had asked him once, "What about before you lived here? What about your mom?" His voice had been chillingly calm. "She hated me because having me ruined her life. The only gift she ever gave me was for my fifth birthday. She slit her wrists right in front of me." "Ruby," he had whispered into the dark, "there is no one in this world who is glad I was born." He had sounded so calm, but I had cried until I threw up. I swore to myself that there would never be another child in this world who felt unwanted, as long as I was around. I had emptied my piggy bank to buy him a small cake. "Gideon, I’m going to celebrate your birthday every single year from now on. You are a wonderful gift to this world." Gideon had stared at the cheap frosting as if it were a bomb. "Swear it, Ruby," he had demanded fiercely. "Swear you’ll be here for my birthday every year." It was our oldest promise. But it looked like I was finally going to break it. I dialed his number. "Can you come home early tonight? It’s a really important day." "Yeah. Fine." He hung up. Midnight came and went. Gideon didn’t come home. Instead, he appeared on the late-night entertainment news. He had rented out the entire waterfront boardwalk to orchestrate a massive, city-wide fireworks display. For Sylvia. Through the TV screen, I heard him ask her, "Will you be with me? Consider it my birthday present." Oh. So there was someone else who could celebrate his birthday with him now. So this was what it looked like when Gideon Roth actually loved someone. Years ago, I had foolishly nudged his shoulder and asked, "Didn’t you say you were going to marry me? Why haven't you told me you like me yet? The TV says you have to like someone to marry them." He had flicked me on the forehead. "Love isn't something you just run around shouting for the whole world to hear, Ruby." The beautiful, expensive cake was turning into a sad, melted puddle on the kitchen island. I took a fork, scooped up a bite, and put it in my mouth. It was a very expensive cake. I couldn't bear to waste it. I had saved up for months just to afford it. Because my brain was slow, nobody would hire me for real work. All I could do was wash dishes in the back of a diner. This single cake cost the wages of washing nine hundred plates. But as I chewed, I couldn't understand why something so expensive tasted so incredibly bitter. My phone buzzed. It was Juno. "Paperwork is all set. Three days left." "Are you sure you can do this, Rubes? It’s going to be rough." I typed back with my good hand. "I can do it. I’m not afraid of rough." I scraped the rest of the uneaten cake into the trash can. On the TV, the celebrity gossip ended, shifting to the local crime beat. "Forensic teams have identified the human remains unearthed last week at the construction site," the anchor announced grimly. "DNA confirms it is the body of the previously missing Roth family heir—" "Roth? Gideon’s family?" I hadn't seen Donovan or Gideon’s father in five years. Gideon had casually mentioned it to me once over dinner. "Oh, my brother? Totaled his sports car on a mountain road in Europe. And my old man is too heartbroken to fly back to the States." So who was the body? I stepped closer to the screen, straining to hear. The front door clicked open, and Gideon walked in. He immediately picked up the remote and killed the TV. "Why are you watching that garbage? It’s just going to scare you, and you’re slow enough as it is." Then, his eyes landed on the brightly colored frosting smeared against the inside of the trash can. "Oh," he muttered, something unreadable crossing his face. "Sorry. I forgot you were waiting for me—" "I wasn't," I interrupted, forcing a bright smile. "I just got greedy and wanted cake." He stared into the trash can for a long, heavy moment. The next day, Gideon actually remembered it was my day for cognitive therapy. Ever since he had made his money, taking me to my brain specialists was the one thing he never, ever missed, rain or shine. But halfway there, his cell phone rang. He listened for a second, then slammed his foot on the brake, pulling the car over violently. "Get out." "What?" "Sylvia had a fight with her friends. She’s crying. I have to go to her." Outside the window, a torrential downpour was flooding the streets. The water was already pooling deep at the curbs. "It’s raining really hard," I said softly. "Could you just drop me off at a coffee shop or somewhere dry?" His voice was terrifyingly calm. "I said, get out." A wave of profound sadness washed over me. I thought about high school. Gideon had been shoved during a gym class and scraped his knee. It was a tiny scrape. But I had run all the way to the school, barefoot, carrying a first-aid kit. Gideon had looked at my bleeding, blistered feet and sighed. "Ruby, it’s a scratch. Was this really necessary?" It was. Just like it was necessary for him now. Sylvia was only crying over a petty argument with her friends, but he couldn't bear the thought of her suffering even a fraction of an ounce of grief. I opened the door and stepped out into the storm. The rain soaked through my clothes in seconds. It was so heavy, so blinding, that I couldn't see the streetlights. I was completely numb with cold by the time I finally flagged down a taxi. That night, my temperature spiked dangerously high. I heard the housekeeper calling Gideon from the hallway. Through the crack in the door, I heard his voice tinny over the speaker. "Sylvia is upset. I can’t leave her. I’m not a doctor, anyway. What am I supposed to do about a fever?" I pulled the covers over my head and sobbed. "Gideon, you’re a liar." In my fever dreams, I was eighteen again. It was the week my parents had legally disowned me. I had fallen violently ill, trapped in a recurring nightmare of them driving away, unable to wake up. Gideon had sat by my bed for three days and three nights, never sleeping, humming a terribly off-key lullaby. "I’m right here, you little idiot," he had murmured, pressing a cool towel to my forehead. "If you want to build a nest, I’ll be your bird. No matter how far I fly, I’ll always come back to sing you to sleep." In my delirium, I reached out my good hand, grasping at empty air, sobbing uncontrollably. "You liar. You’re a liar, Gideon. There are no more lullabies." Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe the fever was frying the few brain cells I had left. Because suddenly, I heard it. A low, raspy, off-key hum. "Hush now, the clock strikes deep, the night is still and the world’s asleep..." I drifted off after that. I didn't remember anything else. When I woke up, the morning sun was brilliant and warm. It felt as though the storm, and the entire past fifteen years, had just been one long, terrible nightmare. The housekeeper came into the room with a glass of water, looking at me with pity. "Mr. Roth was… at Miss Belmont’s apartment all night," she said gently. "But the private doctor came to check on you." So it really was just a fever dream. My phone buzzed. Juno. "Two days left! Don’t forget to pack, you little airhead!" I smiled at the screen. "I won't forget." I started packing my suitcase. I needed to practice doing things with one hand so I wouldn't be a burden to anyone in the mountains. Juno said there would be lots of bugs and snakes where we were going. I decided to walk down to the pharmacy to buy repellent. On my way back, I took a shortcut through a maze of old alleyways behind the industrial district. Suddenly, a deafening "CRACK" echoed off the brick walls. A gunshot. I dropped my shopping bag and scrambled behind a rusted dumpster, my heart hammering against my ribs. A black SUV with no license plates tore out of a loading dock, tires screaming. Through the tinted window, I swore I saw the driver’s profile. It looked exactly like Gideon. "No," I told myself, pressing my hands over my ears. "I’m just paranoid. Gideon is at Sylvia’s." Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as three police cruisers flew past the alley. I hid for a long time before I dared to run home. My chest was still tight with panic hours later. Late that afternoon, Gideon walked through the front door. He had Sylvia on his arm. She immediately walked over and looped her arm affectionately through mine. "Ruby! I heard you had a fever last night. I’m so sorry I couldn't come check on you." She pouted playfully. "It’s all Gideon’s fault. A friend of mine outbid me on a necklace I wanted, and he insisted on staying up all night to comfort me." She pulled out her phone and showed me the screen. "Look how ridiculous he is. He’s buying a whole amusement park just to cheer me up." She giggled. "He’s throwing this massive opening party and inviting my favorite musicians. I’m honestly so embarrassed." I let out a quiet breath of relief. I had definitely hallucinated the alleyway. I looked down at her screen. The sprawling, newly renovated theme park was being rebranded with Sylvia’s middle name. On the day I turned eighteen—the day before my parents abandoned me—they had promised to throw me my first real birthday party. But that afternoon, the Roths had falsely accused Gideon of stealing from the family safe. They had beaten him raw and dumped him by the river. I abandoned my party. I searched the riverbanks for hours until I found him huddled under a bridge. His face was swollen and purple, his voice rusted and wrecked. "I’m sorry," he had rasped. "I ruined the only party your parents ever threw you." He had frantically dug through his pockets, trying to scrape together crumpled dollar bills. "Please. You have to let me make it up to you." I had dragged him to a run-down, nearly abandoned carnival on the edge of town and told him this was perfectly fine. We rode a rusted Ferris wheel and a creaky carousel. It cost exactly fifteen dollars. I had the time of my life. Gideon had watched me, his eyes rimmed red. "Do you believe me," he had asked, staring at the flashing bulbs, "if I tell you that one day, I’m going to buy you a whole theme park?" He had actually done it. Just not for me. I forced my lips into a smile. "It’s very beautiful." Sylvia’s eyes flashed with something sharp. She reached into a designer paper bag on the counter. "I brought you something! It’s from that viral bakery near the park. A traditional pork fat pie. You just got over a fever, you need the calories!" My stomach violently heaved. When I was little, my sadistic nanny used to force-feed me chunks of boiled pork fat. She would pinch my jaw open and shove it down my throat while I choked. I developed a severe, psychosomatic allergy to it. The last time I accidentally ingested pork fat, I ended up in the ER with anaphylaxis. Gideon knew this. He knew exactly what it did to me. But he just leaned against the kitchen island, his eyes cold and flat. "Sylvia went out of her way to get that for you, Ruby. Eat the whole thing. Don't be ungrateful to people who are kind to you." He lowered his voice a fraction. "You don't want to upset Sylvia, do you?" I had only heard that specific, quiet, terrifying tone of voice once before. Two years ago, I had woken up thirsty in the middle of the night. As I walked past Gideon’s study, I heard him on the phone. "Shatter his femur first," Gideon had said, his voice light and airy. "If he still won't sign the contract, cut off one of his fingers right in front of his wife." I had been terrified of him in that moment. But I had told myself: "This is Gideon. He would never, ever turn that darkness on me." Looking into his dead eyes now, I wasn't sure anymore. With shaking hands, I took the pastry. I forced a bite into my mouth. The grease coated my tongue. The metallic, heavy taste of fat. I bolted for the downstairs powder room, collapsing over the toilet, vomiting violently until there was nothing left but bile. From the hallway, I could hear Gideon giving Sylvia a tour of the house. His voice was exasperated but dripping with affection. "There’s really nothing to see, Sylvia." "I can't help it! I want to see where you live." I leaned against the bathroom tile, trying to catch my breath. "Well," Gideon chuckled smoothly, "what if you just moved in?" Sylvia gasped. "Really? I’d love that! But…" She paused delicately. "I’m just not used to living with… other people." I stepped out of the bathroom, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Gideon glanced at me over Sylvia’s shoulder. "That’s not a problem," he said easily. "If you’re not comfortable, Ruby can move out tonight." Just like that. With two days left before my flight, I was thrown out. I dragged my suitcase into the foyer. "Gideon," I said softly to his back. "Can I have my guardian angel back before I go?" He paused mid-step, frowning, as if trying to recall what I was talking about. "Oh. That ugly piece of junk." He disappeared into his study and came back holding it. It was a lump of baked yellow clay, roughly the size of a fist, clumsily shaped like an angel. It was lopsided and amateurish. Around its neck was a braided red thread tied into a knot of protection. It had taken me an entire day to figure out how to tie that knot. Sylvia leaned in, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, how rustic! It’s actually kind of cute. Can I have it?" Gideon tilted his head, looking at me. "Do you mind, Ruby?" I stared at the little clay angel. When I gave it to him years ago, I told him it was me. "It’s going to protect you and keep you safe forever," I had said. When he took it, his knuckles had been white, he gripped it so hard. Through all the beatings, the betrayals, and the rise to power, he had never thrown it away. Until now. "She can have it," I whispered. I hauled my suitcase out the front door. Sylvia insisted on following me out, tugging on Gideon’s arm. "It’s dark, and this mountain road is dangerous! We have to at least drive her to a hotel. I’d feel just awful since I’m the reason she’s leaving!" We didn't make it far. Just as we reached the bottom of the private drive, headlights flared in the darkness. A black sedan blew through the intersection, ignoring the stop sign, hurtling directly toward where Gideon was standing by the curb. After fifteen years, protecting Gideon wasn't a choice. It was muscle memory. I instinctively lunged forward to push him out of the way. But as my hands reached for him, he moved first. He grabbed Sylvia by the waist, twisting his body to shield hers, and shoved me backward to clear their path. The force of his shove sent me flying backward, right into the path of the speeding car. My shoulder slammed into the side mirror. "SNAP." The sound of my own bone breaking echoed in my skull. Pain, blinding and jagged, ripped through my arm. Gideon was kneeling on the asphalt, cradling Sylvia, desperately checking her for injuries. When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were storm clouds. "I told you I don't need your protection anymore!" he roared. "When the hell are you going to drop this pathetic savior complex?!" My left arm hung at a grotesque angle. Warm blood soaked through the sleeve of my sweater, dripping onto the pavement. "I'm sorry," I gasped through the pain. At the emergency room, the doctors put me in a heavy cast. "She needs a family member to monitor her," the attending nurse said, handing Gideon a clipboard. "Call us immediately if the swelling worsens." But Gideon was already wrapping his coat around Sylvia’s shoulders. "Sylvia is terrified. I need to take her home so she can sleep." He glared down at me. "Do you really think breaking your arm is going to make me feel sorry for you? You did this to yourself." I opened my mouth. "Tomorrow…" I wanted to tell him that my flight was tomorrow. I wanted to ask if he would at least say goodbye. Gideon cut me off, his voice dripping with exhausted sarcasm. "I’ll come check on you tomorrow. You broke your arm playing the hero for me, didn't you? How could I not visit?" I watched his broad shoulders disappear down the fluorescent hospital corridor. "Goodbye, Gideon," I whispered to the empty room. The next morning, Juno came to the hospital to pick me up. When she saw the cast, she burst into tears. "You’re in this condition and you still want to go to the mountains?" I nodded slowly. "It’s just a broken arm. I have to go, Juno. I can't stay here anymore." I gave her my best smile. "I’ll just rest until it heals. I promise I won't be a burden." Hours later, the plane tore down the runway. As we broke through the cloud cover, the roar of the engines drowned out the silence in my chest, and the city where I had loved Gideon Roth disappeared completely from view. … When Gideon walked into the hospital room the next morning, the bed was stripped bare. He froze in the doorway. He reached out and grabbed the shoulder of a passing doctor, his grip like a vice. "Where is she?" "Miss Carmichael? She insisted on checking out AMA this morning." Gideon’s executive assistant hurried down the hall, out of breath, and leaned in close. "Sir… Miss Carmichael safely boarded a flight out of state with her friend." Gideon’s hand fell limply to his side. A beat passed. Then, he let out a quiet, huffing laugh. "Good. It’s better this way." He straightened his cuffs, his eyes darkening. "Because now, it’s time for me to do what I have to do."