Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
ANORA
I could do nothing but watch as the afternoon sun bled into the night sky and then eventually lightened into morning.
It felt like I hadn’t blinked in twelve hours, but all I could do was watch the sky, the only indicator of my time left on this stupid fucking planet.
I felt so wrung out and tired, both physically and emotionally, that I wanted to put my hand inside my chest and rip out my pitiful, hopeful, lovesick heart.
Rats scurried around my numb and limp body, and I wanted to laugh at myself for feeling jealous of rodents and the freedom they had to run.
I couldn’t remember what my body had felt like before it had suffered at the hands of Angel, or how peaceful my mind used to be before the darkness invaded it from all he had done to me.
He had put me through the worst psychological and physical torture I had ever experienced, had taken away any scrap of hope I harbored that I would make it out of here. I was going to die on this disgusting, dirty floor in the middle of nowhere surrounded by rats. Even if I did somehow make it out, my life would never be the same again. I was forever going to have these black scars on my heart, never to be healed all the way.
As time slipped on and my brain darkened, I felt like a fool for ever trusting Quentin. He swore he cared so much about me, and yet when I needed him most, he was nowhere to be found.
I was in this situation because of him .
I should have never trusted my heart to a man who so easily wiped people off the planet and still slept peacefully at night.
The time away from him and the darkest recesses of my mind had made the manifestation of my disappointment and resentment toward our relationship escalate beyond repair.
I thought I had found the man who would love me more than anything in the world and never let anything stand between us. Who loved me for everything I was and despite all that I wasn’t.
Was it petty of me to blame my situation on him? Probably, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Being here had broken something inside of me that had been strong for too long and finally cracked under the pressure.
I had been beaten in more ways than I could count, and it felt like I had shredded my vocal cords from how badly I’d screamed. My skin looked like it had a permanent red hue to it, and I had lost count of the cuts that would scar.
Rays of the early morning sun filtered through the dingy windows of the warehouse. I took a deep breath, accepting my fate with that single intake of air, and heard the click of a gun cocking behind me.
I still had so much left of my life to live, and yet this was how it was ending.
I closed my eyes and braced myself for the inevitable, finally accepting my fate.
A gunshot rang out, and I felt nothing as I welcomed death’s embrace.
Except death’s embrace didn’t bring any pain, and I dared to peek through my closed eyes.
Quentin stood before me, the sunlight making him glow like a guardian angel, the gun still smoking at his side. I turned my head from side to side and then behind me and noticed Angel dead, a single gunshot wound to his head.
The warehouse was too quiet, and I couldn’t tell whether it was safe to indulge in its peace.
Angel’s men were sprawled around the warehouse, all lying dead in pools of blood. In the thirty-second span of time during which my ears had been ringing, rendering me temporarily deaf, a shootout had happened, and I had just been kneeling in the center of it, not moving or blinking.
It all happened so quickly and painlessly, and I should have felt grateful that it was all over so seamlessly, Angel finally put down like he deserved, but instead I laughed.
I laughed maniacally and without restraint, my body shaking. The skin underneath the ties on my wrists rubbed raw from my movements.
Quentin had come in and ended things so fucking fast, like he knew where I was the entire time.
So why did it feel like I had suffered for nothing ?
“We need to get her some medical attention,” Joey said calmly, bringing his hands to either side of my face and trying to make eye contact. It was as if he knew that if Quentin tried to do anything to soothe me, I’d break into a million pieces. I wasn’t sure what he was hoping to accomplish by getting me to look into his eyes, and it was hard to think when all I felt like doing was laughing at just how fucked my life had become.
“Anora? You need to calm down and breathe. We need to get you to a doctor. You’re pretty banged up.”
My laughter began to slowly die down, before turning into full-body sobs. I watched Quentin’s face contort into pain as Joey pulled me into arms and let me scream at the injustice of everything I’d just been through, never knowing if I’d fully be able to heal.
* * *
I could barely look at Quentin as we sat in a booth of one of the local diners. Joey was next to me, and one of his other friends—Brendan, I think he said his name was—sat next to Quentin on the other side.
Once I had stopped crying long enough for Quentin to approach me slowly and cautiously, I stared wordlessly and blankly ahead.
I didn’t answer him when he asked if I was all right and barely moved as he cut my restraints and helped me to stand.
Everything felt fuzzy and the noise of the outside was like a shock to my system. My legs felt weak from lack of use, and I had stumbled, Quentin catching my arm to keep me steady. But I yanked my arm away and walked over to Joey, who looked at me with alarm as I pulled him into an embrace.
“Everything is going to be fine now, Nora,” he had said, but was it really?
Joey was the only one I allowed to touch me. He led me to an SUV outside the warehouse and drove us to the house of a man who had medical training so he could make sure there weren’t life-threatening injuries and promised to come to the apartment the next day to give me IV fluids, check my stitches, and change the dressings he had applied to my wounds. Dr. Norton, as he had been introduced to me, was an older gentleman who looked like he had seen his fair share of shit, if his involvement with the criminal underbelly of the city was anything to go off of. Unlike the scum Quentin normally dealt with, he was one of the good guys.
While we were there, I stood wordlessly and stared into oblivion while Quentin scrubbed my skin clean and washed my hair. I could feel his guilt and heartbreak radiating from his fingers as they moved along my skin, but I was so fucking numb that I didn’t know how to respond.
I felt torn between two emotions: wanting him to hold me in his arms and never letting go but also being so angry that I had gotten into this situation and gone through hell because of him.
After I was cleaned up and put into a new pair of clothes, Joey drove us all to the only diner open at the ass crack of dawn.
I didn’t know why I gravitated toward Joey during a time like this. Maybe because he was the closest to Rory I could get right now, and he had become a good friend to me.
I had barely said a word, nursing my hot cup of coffee and wanting to order one of everything off the menu to combat my hunger. I found it surprising that I had an appetite despite everything I’d been through, but I had become numb to it all.
Now I just wanted to stuff myself full of food until I couldn’t anymore.
Maybe then I’d at least feel something.
The men surrounding me watched me eat my first plate of breakfast with varying looks of concern, but I didn’t care.
After getting my first bit of real food in days, I finally felt full and settled. I gazed thoughtfully out the window and exhaustion crept in. The allure of a hot shower and the sanctuary of my bed called to me, promising refuge from the world’s troubles.
“I’m ready to go home,” I said suddenly, looking at Joey so he’d let me slide out of the booth.
I hadn’t been in my apartment in so long that I knew once they took me back, it would be weird to have such familiar and comfortable surroundings, to sleep in my own bed, after the hell I’d been through. But I needed distance from Quentin, time to think about what had happened and begin to process it all.
Calling my therapist would probably also not be a bad idea.
“I’ll take you back to my place and you can get some rest,” Quentin said as he settled the bill and threw some cash on the table.
“I think it’s best if you take me to my apartment,” I said. I watched him flinch as if I’d hit him.
He just nodded without a word, but I could see by the tick in his jaw that he wasn’t happy about it.
I didn’t really care what he thought. I had just been through the wringer for him; I had to get a handle on my emotions.
Because I knew that there was no way in hell I’d be able to stay numb for long.
* * *
I surprised myself with how right I was.
Even though it took three days in bed and endless hours of television, the emotions hit me square in the face like I knew they would.
At first, my anger manifested, and I wanted to break everything surrounding me. I wanted everything around me to be as broken as I was.
Then came the sobs of sadness and the nightmares that plagued me every single night.
Rory had been staying at the apartment again since I’d been home, even though I tried to reassure her I didn’t need a babysitter.
I couldn’t deny that her being there to hold me while I cried during the day and calm me down and back to sleep at night helped me heal. Her comfort was like a warm blanket to me, and I had never felt so grateful for her friendship.
When Joey had first brought me home, I didn’t think Rory would ever leave my side again. One glimpse at the bruises and scars that had marred my skin was enough to make her fall to her knees and break out into a sob. I couldn’t very well blame her when I would have felt the same way if it was her I was seeing beat to an inch of her life.
“I promise it’s not as bad as it looks,” I had said, trying to assure her despite the pain coursing through my veins. I had told Joey to bring me home, and that I wasn’t in any state to go to the hospital to be checked out. They would ask too many questions that I didn’t even know the answers to.
I just hoped I didn’t have any internal bleeding or broken bones because that was something I didn’t think over-the-counter pain medicine and rest could cure.
They wouldn’t be able to fix the scars that had begun to mold themselves around my heart, either.
“I’m going to give you guys some privacy,” Joey said, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder, almost forgetting for a moment that he was there. The pained expression on his face made me wince. I knew he felt like he was stuck between intruding on a moment between best friends and wanting to run to Rory and hold her in his arms.
His eyes flicked to mine, and I nodded, watching as he took slow steps toward Rory and placed a kiss on her forehead. Their eyes locked, and the love and appreciation I could see in her eyes made my stomach twist, reminiscing on what I thought I had.
I would give anything in the world for Quentin to be here to scoop me into his arms and make me feel safe again. But he was the same person who had taken that feeling of safety away from me when I became involved with him and everything he stood for.
Joey turned and left without a word, the front door clicking shut behind him. I walked as slowly as he had toward where Rory was still kneeling on the floor, afraid to make any sudden movements and upset her more than she already was.
“What the hell happened to you, Nora?” she cried as soon as I was close enough for her to pull me into a fierce hug. “You were with me at the mall, and then I turned around for one second and you were gone. One single fucking second, and I thought I’d never see you again.”
A sob broke the last word she spoke, and I could do nothing but squeeze her tightly, knowing that there was no way I could tell her where I had been and why. I would have to settle for a half-truth when it came to mentioning Quentin from now on. I had never lied about something so big to Rory before.
“I was taken by some thugs. They thought I was someone else, and the police were able to find me and bring me home.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, and not a single one of them was true.
Rory finally looked up, our gazes connecting. I could tell she didn’t believe me and was trying to sniff out a lie. I kept my expression as neutral as I could, praying she couldn’t feel the racing of my heart and demand I tell her what actually happened.
“Just tell me you’re safe now, and everything is okay. Promise me that you’re going to be okay,” she said finally, and I gave her the most convincing smile I could and lied to her for the second time within a minute. “I need you to be okay. Who else would watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns with me and still cry about George no matter how many times we’ve seen it?”
I gave a weak laugh, my heart not all the way in it, but appreciative of her trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll be fine.”
* * *
Shortly after I’d returned home, I’d started attending therapy sessions virtually twice a week, though they urged me to come into the facility and do sessions in person. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house. I was worried they’d try to admit me to the hospital, and that thought made it hard to breathe. I didn’t want to be stuck somewhere else with no escape, even if it might have been in my best interest.
I wasn’t a danger to myself or to anyone else. I didn’t plan to do anything to harm myself. There was nothing else left to hurt or damage inside me that Angel hadn’t already done. But I still couldn’t risk my therapist writing me a one-way ticket to the psychiatric inpatient facility.
I hadn’t spoken to Quentin since he’d begrudgingly brought me home. That didn’t mean he didn’t try. I had turned my phone off the first night I’d been back, but I knew he was constantly asking Rory for updates.
I loved Aurora with every fiber of my being, but I knew she was talking to him about me. I wondered if she would if she knew the truth. Unaware that Quentin had been the cause of my ordeal, she only knew of my captivity and his role as savior. Her lack of questions beyond that left me torn between gratitude and alarm.
But she never forced me to talk about what I went through unless I wanted to, and as each day passed, I opened up more.
I felt like I was crying out all of my negative emotions. As the days turned into weeks, I felt myself slowly being put back together. I felt my wounds healing and my mind finally beginning to strengthen. I could eat, and I slept longer without nightmares, which relieved the stress in Rory’s shoulders.
She’d even left me alone over the weekend. I had to practically shove her out the door and force her to go spend time with Joey, but I wanted to be alone for the first time in a long time. I’d put her through so much these last few weeks that she deserved to go out and enjoy herself with the man she loved.
As I continued to heal, I felt more inclined to reach out to Quentin. I didn’t want to admit it after everything, but I still felt that intense pull to him. Yet, every time I opened our text thread, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
He’d left me countless voicemails, and he sent me texts every single day.
Quentin
I miss you.
I’m thinking of you.
I hope you have a good day.
I’m so sorry.
It tore my heart to shreds not being with him, but I needed to think about what was best for me. We had great times together, and I couldn’t deny that I had fallen head over heels for him, but could I bear to put myself in potential danger again? Would he be willing to put everything aside for me?
I got dressed, grabbed my car keys, and decided it was time to find out once and for all.