22. Twenty
Twenty
Cecil
Deafening screams rouse me from a stupor. Awareness is slow moving, but I realize I’m in a heap on the concrete. I attempt to stand, but the room spins when I lift my head. Did I faint? Orbs swim through my vision and I blink rapidly to clear them.
I have to get to Eden.
After what feels like minutes, I’m able to push onto my knees.
Eden is still secured against the pole. Her back arches away from it, and her nails gouge into the flesh of her own arms. I push myself to stand so I can grip her face.
My head feels like it’s moments away from imploding, but if I don’t stop her, someone else will.
Once I push her hair out of her face, my chest aches in concern.
Lines of blood trail beneath both of her eyes and nostrils, and her face is contorted in torment.
The screams are endless, no pause for breath.
I peer around her and my eyes catch on the bodies that litter the ground.
One of them is still, and I recognize it as Emory.
Swallowing hard, I don’t allow myself a moment to feel the guilt that waits in the pit of my stomach. Later.
Squinting, I study the man that’s on his back beside the deceased child. Percy thrashes like he’s being electrocuted. Curran stands at the back of the room, utterly pale. Traces of crimson leak from his ears.
“OH GOD! PLEASE GOD!” Percy shrieks, desperately clawing at his face. Blood covers every inch of his head, painting him until he’s unrecognizable. He looks exactly how the man beside the pond did. The only difference is he’s still alive.
Swiping at my own face, I pull my hands back to check for blood. Despite the throbbing in my head, I’m unscathed. Bewildered, I look back to Eden. Whether she meant to spare me or not, I dread what kind of conclusion Curran might come to once he realizes.
All of this could have been avoided if I hadn’t left her alone.
The blast of a gunshot startles me and I instantly step in front of Eden’s body, shielding her. The screaming silences and she slumps down as much as the binds will allow. My eyes go from the now dead Percy to Curran, who simply stares ahead and drops the gun back to his side.
“She blinded him,” he supplies.
I nod once.
With a heaving exhale, the old man surveys the scene in front of him. I take a moment to do the same.
My fingers itch to release her and ensure she’s okay. Lord knows what the men did to her before I showed up. Rage floods me at the thought of one of them touching her, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Releasing a shuddered breath, I force the thoughts away. For now, I am the loyal servant.
I do not care for her.
I do not.
A prickle at the back of my neck tells me that Curran has ensnared me in his gaze. With great effort, I return it.
“If she does not yield to you,” he says, his words low. Foreboding. “You will pay the penance as much as she will.”
My jaw ticks twice before I answer. “She will yield.”
Curran sighs and brushes his hands together, as if talk of murder and evil is but crumbs on his fingertips.
“For your soul’s sake, Cecil, I pray you are correct.” He shakes his head once more, motioning towards Percy. “What a waste.”
I agree, but for the young boy. I make myself look at him and I’m barely able to contain the flinch. His mouth is still open, the plea of life sat on the tip of his tongue.
The reverend's retreating footsteps are dull, my ears still ringing from the damage they sustained. Once he reaches the exit, I have to read his lips to comprehend his parting words.
“You will return with her in one month. In the meantime, take the demon far from here. She reeks of… temptation.”
Finally alone, I drop to my knees and place my palms on each of Eden’s pale cheeks. Her head lolls on her neck, utterly motionless.
“Wake up, Eden. Come on.” My voice is gravelly, exhaustion tugging at me now that the panic ebbs.
Craning my neck, I look at her restraints.
The skin is raw where she has tugged, and her arms are bent at an odd angle.
Pulling a switchblade from my back pocket, I slide it along her inner wrist until I can begin sawing at the rope.
After a few passes, the cord gives and she teeters forward.
My free arm catches her fall, and once the knife is tucked away, I hoist her body up into a cradle.
With a stroke of luck, we don’t pass anyone on the way out. Dusk has fallen, so most of the men have returned home. Eden lays across the cab of my truck, her body bouncing with each pothole.
My mind shifts to Creed, and I dread the conversation I’m about to have. I don’t know how to evade his questions this time around. For the first time in my life, it’s a real possibility that I’ll have to tell my brother the truth. Every bit of it.
A faint whimper pulls me from my thoughts. She stirs beside me.
I’m close enough to the house to not have any eyes on us for miles, so I veer to the right and park.
The grind of the gearshift has Eden shooting upright. The rise and fall of her chest is punctuated by gasps. Sheer terror engulfs her.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s me,” I murmur, attempting to reassure her though I feel anything but sure.
Her head whips to the side, and our eyes lock.
Fear flashes to despair, and tears begin to well.
Eden launches at me so quickly that I rear back, my head hitting the window of my door.
For a moment, I worry that she’s attacking me, but when her forehead meets the nape of my neck, I relax.
Her arms wind around my shoulders, and she all but climbs into my lap.
Releasing a breath, I allow myself to return the embrace.
She’s rigid, a tremor wracking through her petite frame. Muffled gasps are barely audible, and I realize she’s stifling sobs. Choking on them.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmur, turning my head to speak into her ear. One of my hands smooths her hair down her back. At my touch, she rears back. Rose tinted tears slip down appley cheeks.
“My fault,” she signs. My heart clinches.
“No,” My hold is gentle in her hair, but my voice is gruff. “ If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine, alright? You never should have been there.”
“If I had stayed—”
“You saw those men, Eden, so don’t take the blame for them. Lord knows they don’t deserve it.”
Her chin wobbles, but she doesn’t say anything further. The pads of my thumbs wipe away the moisture on her face, and I push her hair behind her ears. An angry knot juts out above her temple, a slice down her cheek. Hatred flares within me, and I have to grind my teeth to bite it back.
The lull of the truck’s motor is the only sound at all as we sit in our shared grief. The agony that reflects in her eyes makes me want to string Curran up by his feet. But I can’t do that, not yet. For now, I need to figure out how to get us out of this nightmare.
Once she retreats to her seat, I straighten my spine and run a hand through my hair. Her eyes are trained on my every move, but it’s almost like she’s gazing right through me.
Blowing out a sigh, I shift the truck into drive.
“Let’s go home.”