Chapter Thirteen
Close But Not Close Enough
Passing overhead street lights bring me back from the darkness.
My stomach churns as my mind relives memories of a dark basement with concrete walls.
Cold bites my bones and my captors are the only warmth I know.
Their bodies offer heat and pain. So much pain.
I was innocent before I knew that room. Before I knew those men and the way their hands seemed to never leave my skin.
The way they left their marks, even ones you couldn’t see.
I'm no longer weak and scared. I will not be theirs again. I spring to my right, grabbing the person next to me and smashing their head into the car window. The person to my left reaches out to me and I lunge. Punching them in the face so hard they hunch forward holding their head. The car begins to spin and I use it to my advantage. I grab the person in the passenger seat by the neck and squeeze for dear life. My foot flies up to kick the driver in the head. Climbing over the back seat, I throw myself from the car while still in motion. This causes me to roll on the asphalt. I suck in a breath as I slow, the pain evident in my bare arms. I take off running as I hear pounding steps from behind me. Multiple assailants chase me down the dark street. Just as I go to make a hard right turn into the woods, I’m thrown to the ground by multiple enemies.
My arms and legs flail while I aim for them.
Punching and kicking whatever I can land a hit on.
They won't take me because I won't let them. Never again.
“Relax! Stop fighting!” One screams at me. I’ll never stop fighting.
“Get the fuck off of me! I’ll kill you!” I scream until my voice begins to go shrill.
“Everly, stop! You are safe! We have you! You need to stop fighting! We are trying to help!” Another yells.
I screech like a banshee and lunge for them.
We make contact and fall onto the pavement.
Their arms cover their head in an attempt to block my attack.
I keep punching until I’m torn off and wrapped in warmth.
My body is restrained by strong arms and the smell of cedar fills my nose.
“Come back to me, Love. No one is going to hurt you. You are safe. You are loved. You are okay.” Blake’s voice rings in my ears as my sight clears and I tilt my head up towards him.
His face is pained and distraught. I notice a cut along the bridge of his nose as blood is slathered across his face.
Memories come flooding back and I nearly throw up.
With teary eyes, I look around me. Lucas lays on the ground.
Blood trickles from a nasty cut on his head and his arms are covered in marks.
Ryon has massive bruises already forming on his neck.
James is covered in glass shards with a giant cut across his cheek bone.
I finally look down at myself, road rash covers my upper body and I wince at the pain I didn’t know I had.
Emotions break through the walls I’ve spent years building up.
I slip from Blake’s hold and fall to the ground.
“I’m so sorry.” I repeat over and over. That's all I can manage at this moment. I begin rocking as sobs rack my body. It’s too much. I've hurt them. All because I’m too weak.
Blake POV:
One by one, we carefully crouch forward until we circle her in a cocoon.
I don’t understand what is going on. James only offered so much information after she collapsed at the boat yard.
I carried her to the car while they got rid of Jose.
I know she was hurt. I know it had something to do with El Rey and his men.
I shudder at the horrific possibilities.
“Ev, talk to us.” Ryon says beside me.
“I can’t. I can’t go back there. ” She sobs out. My heart constricts at the sound. I would rather die than hear that noise ever again.
“You will not go back there. Ever again. You are safe now. Will you tell me what happened? I want to help you but I do not know how.” I say in a gentle tone.
She’s like a frightened bird. Gauging by the way she woke up, I have to move forward carefully.
I have only seen that response in people with some form of trauma or PTSD.
She hiccups and nods while turning entirely towards me.
“I was captured by the cartel while on one of my first missions. The-they took me and- they hurt me. Did things to my body that are indescribable. They took my innocence and tried breaking my spirit. I never fought. I was too scared. The things they did when I didn’t do what they told me to do were enough to never fight back.
They called me La Cantante, The Singer, because of my screams. They had a game of trying to see who could get me to scream louder.
” She whispers the last sentence and my stomach tightens.
The horrors I imagined were nothing compared to the reality of what she experienced.
“The Singer… The Siren, that’s where you got your title from.” The realization hits me.
“How long-how long were you…there?” I stutter and gulp, trying to swallow the rising bile in my throat.
“Eleven Months. I was fifteen when they took me. I never got to celebrate my sixteenth birthday.” I visibly cringe and throw myself away from her, vomiting the contents of my stomach into nearby grass, until nothing is left.
As I walk back over to her, tears continue to stream down her face as another sob draws from her lips.
I turn my attention towards the men before me.
“You knew this and allowed her to go on such a mission?” I practically yell.
“We knew what she went through but not who it was. Her and Lucas never told us.” James informs me. I look towards Lucas who still sits in the same position, arms wrapping around himself like a safety jacket.
“You were there and did nothing?” Disgust is evident in my tone. What kind of person, a man no less, allows for something like this to happen to another person?
“I-I cou-couldn’t..sto-p th-em.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You could not save her from that horror?”
“I couldn’t even save myself from it.” He squeaks as tears brim his eyes. The meaning of his words dawn on me. He was also a victim to their heinous acts.
“They…made…us…they knew we…were like…family.” Everly says from behind me. I almost throw up again as I swallow harder.
“I am sorry. To both of you. You should have never had to experience such a horrific thing.” They look between each other before staring back in their own directions.
“We need to get off the road.” Ryon states, in an attempt to avoid further discussion.
Slowly we collect ourselves. The gravity of what happened is still fresh on our minds.
In silence, we walk back to the car. I do not know whether to hold her or give her space, so I settle with walking beside her.
She will get her justice, if it is the last thing I do on this earth.