Chapter 41
Sometimes, when I’m lying awake in bed at night, unable to sleep, I become acutely aware of myself.
Every sensation of my body becomes glaringly pronounced–the sharp pain radiating from my back, the dull ache between my legs, the chill of the air in the room against my sunken, sallow skin. Every bump, every bruise, every scrape heightened to such a vivid level–I couldn”t ignore it if I tried.
And it’s in those moments, when I feel most aware of myself, that I realize how very, very small I actually am. Nothing but an inconsequential blip on the timeline of a universe we don’t even understand.
Only this time, I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep. Alive or dead.
Maybe my time actually came to pass, and I’m here in a weird kind of limbo. Still aware of my body, of every terrible pain zinging through me, but unable to move or help myself because I’m no longer in control, my soul having floated on to some other plane of existence.
I can only hope my soul has found more peace than my body.
I open my eyes. At least, I think I open them. Nothing but inky darkness surrounds me, and I can’t quite be sure if I’m actually seeing anything.
Bringing a hand in front of my face, my eyes eventually adjust to the darkness, the outline of my hand becoming visible in front of me.
Reaching out, I carefully turn my body onto my stomach so I can reach over the edge of the bed, my hand searching for the plastic cup of water I keep on the floor beside me.
I’m so tired. So very, very tired. The last time I had food was days ago, though I’ve quit tracking when the sun starts shining around the shade in the window. Maybe it was longer ago than that. Maybe it was less. Either way, I’m just so damn tired.
I can’t remember the last time I had the energy to get up, so I’ve limited myself to small sips of water when I get thirsty in an effort to make the glass last longer. I just don’t know that I have the energy to walk the steps to the bathroom to refill it.
Part of me hopes that maybe I will never find the energy. That I’ll just die of thirst sooner rather than later. It sure seems better than staying here, waiting for Trevor to come back so he can cut me open while he rapes me.
The mattress below me is stained red. The quilt over me is stained red. There’s a slightly sour smell, and I don’t know if it’s coming from my back or the dirty bed.
I hope it’s my back. Maybe that will end me quicker than the dehydration.
My hand meets the cup, and I pull it up, turning back onto my side and trying to drink the best I can without spilling those precious drops. I would give almost anything for a straw to make this easier.
I swallow the remaining water in the glass, then let it fall back to the floor.
It clatters against the cement.
And then clatters some more.
And some more.
And more.
Until it’s a pounding reverberating through my head that I can’t handle, and I bring my hands over my ears, drowning out the sound.
Curling into myself, I squeeze my eyes shut. The sound just doesn’t stop. Loud bangs rattling every sore bone in my frail body.
And then I hear it, as though through a fog. “Riley.”
Tears somehow prick my eyes, and I’m surprised that I have any left.
The sound comes again, a little louder this time. “Riley!”
I’m still surrounded by darkness when I open my eyes.
Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the end and my mind is playing tricks on me, dreaming up hallucinations as my body slowly gives up.
“Riley!” The sound roars, and I pull my hands from my ears.
“Riley!” the deep voice yells, and I start to tremble.
A smile finds my cracked lips. It would be his voice, both the worst kind of torture and the best blessing I could ask for. Painful, because I’ll never see his handsome face again, never feel his hands on my body, his lips pressed to mine. And heaven. Because if it’s the last thing I ever hear, I can die happy.
The door to the bedroom swings open, light from the hallway beyond seeping into the room, casting it into a soft glow. Two figures stand in the doorway, the one in front with their hand extended, still holding the doorknob, frozen as they look into the room.
I can’t see their faces, the light behind them casting them in shadow, but I’d recognize that frame anywhere.
A whimper escapes my throat, and in a flash, he’s there, kneeling in front of me, his hands cradling my face, his lips on my forehead. Even in the dark, his eyes burn into mine. I can feel the intensity of them, searing me and warming me from the inside out.
Tears flow down my face onto the pillow, and I use the little energy I can muster to grab Emmett’s hand, holding it against my jaw and squeezing it to assure myself that he’s real. That he’s here.
He found me.
My body shakes and my breath catches from the whirlwind of emotions stuck in my chest.
He audibly swallows, bringing his lips back to my forehead one more time. “It’s okay,” he whispers gently. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
The other person still lingering by the door flips the light switch in the room, and I squint my eyes against the brightness from the bulbs. When I’m able to focus them again, I see the color drain from Emmett’s face as his eyes survey the bloody mess around me, and his hands still cupping my face start to shake.
“Baby,” he says, his voice tight. “Where are you hurt?”
My tongue darts out to try to lick my chapped lips, but my mouth is too dry. “My back,” I manage to say, but it comes out cracked and raspy.
Emmett rises from his knees, slowly pulling his hand from my weak grasp. “I’m going to pull down the blanket, okay? I need to see what’s going on before we move you.”
I dip my head the best I can and close my eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer.
Emmett grabs the edge of the blanket tucked around my shoulders, slowly and carefully peeling it down my body.
A hiss escapes my mouth when he gets halfway down my back, the blanket dried into the cuts across the bottoms of my ribs.
Slowly, so very slowly, Emmett works the blanket completely off my naked body. When I look at him again, his eyes are dark, his jaw clenching as he sees every broken, dirty, used up piece of me.
“Find a clean blanket,” he tells the other man in the room, who turns and disappears down the hallway.
Tossing the dirty blanket to the floor, he rounds the bed to look at my back. He mutters a string of curses under his breath at what he sees.
“Is it bad?” I choke out.
But I already know. The amount of pain and blood can’t mean anything good.
Coming back to my side of the bed, he crouches in front of me, grabbing my hands and bringing them to his lips. “You’ll be okay,” he says, holding my hands tight in his. “I promise.”
He tucks my hands back into my chest, then brushes the tears from my face, kissing my temple and gently running his fingers over my hair.
I doze off, sleep pulling at my body so strongly I can’t fight it anymore. I’m barely aware as Emmett and the other man gently sit me up in bed, then pull me to my feet, careful to avoid touching my back.
Emmett wraps the blanket around my body and I choke on a sob, the weight of it feeling like lead against my raw back. I grasp the edges of the blanket closed in front of me the best I can, then let them guide me out of the room and up a set of stairs.
When we turn a corner, Jax comes into view, waiting by a door. “Hey pretty girl,” he says, smiling softly at me. “You ready to go home?”
His voice is so tender, so warm. Fresh tears fall from my eyes as a small sob escapes me, and I give him a shaky nod.
Home. With Emmett. Maybe this is heaven after all.
Emmett grabs my face when we reach the door, tilting my head up to look at him. “Go with Jax. He’ll get you comfortable. We’ll go home as soon as we’re done here, okay?”
His words penetrate the fog my brain is in. As soon as we’re done here.
My hands start to shake. “Where’s Trevor?” I whip my head around, frantically searching for him.
Terror spikes through my veins, my body stealing itself for whatever brutal punishment he decides to inflict upon me this time.
Emmett notices my reaction, gently turning my face back to him. “Go with Jax, baby,” he says, his voice unbearably gentle. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I’ll take care of him.”
I study his face. His beautiful face, so hard and aloof right now, betrays the tenderness of his voice when he speaks to me. I can see all the hatred and anger bubbling just below the surface. I can see it in the darkness of his eyes, the tension of his body.
And all that rage churning within him gives me comfort, because I know Emmett will make Trevor pay more than I ever could.
I let out a shuddering breath, and his lips briefly find mine, so soft and warm against my own. I allow myself to lean into it briefly before whispering, “I love you.”
His thumbs stroke softly across my cheeks and he drops his forehead to mine, a harsh breath escaping his lungs. “I love you, too, Riley. More than you’ll ever know.”
And then, without another word, he releases me. He and the man I don”t know walk back around the corner we just came from, disappearing from sight and leaving a crater-sized hole in my heart.
Don’t leave me.
Jax gently puts a hand on my shoulder, tugging me back to reality. “He’ll be back,” he says, reading my mind.
Emmett’s not leaving. He’s taking me home. He’ll be right back.
Swallowing the ball lodged in my throat, I take a shaky step toward the door when Jax opens it for me, and I’m met with a cold, snowy night.
“Shit,” he mutters, looking down at my bare feet and out to the snow. “I’d offer to carry you, but Vin said not to touch your back, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s okay.” I step toward the open door. What’s a little more cold at this point?
But Jax stops me, silently stepping in front of me and bracing a hand against the doorframe as he slips out of his boots. Crouching down, he gently grabs my calf, lifting my leg and guiding my foot into his shoe.
I don’t protest, cherishing the feel of his boots on my feet like the gift they are.
He holds my elbow as we slowly walk to a large black truck. Opening the rear door, he helps me climb into the back seat, then hands me some pills and a water bottle, telling me to sip slowly.
“I’m sorry I don’t have something stronger,” he says. “But until we get you looked at, I don’t want to give you anything else.”
I take the pills, practically choking on them because of how dry my throat is, even with the water. Then he’s helping me lie down across the seat on my stomach.
When he gets into the driver’s seat, he turns on the truck and cranks the heat, and before long, sleep finally pulls me under.