Chapter Twenty - Elise
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elise
Joshua stands in the doorway, gun still raised though his target is hissing on the ground. I try to make out his expression, but I can’t tell what emotion is most prominent—infuriation, disbelief, disgust, or horror.
Ryder and two men I don’t recognize follow behind, none of them concealing their shock.
I want so badly to feel relieved, but for all I know, Joshua has only come to take Tripp’s place.
Lowering his weapon, Joshua barks, “Get him out of here.”
The soldiers grab Tripp and drag his writhing body out of the room.
Joshua takes in the scene before him—blood covering the floor, loose chains from the ceiling binding my wrists, and the bloodied whip lying on the ground. His eyes continue, now scanning my appearance—tear-stained face, torn clothing, and exposed legs.
He holsters his gun and rushes to me, but I scramble back as best I can.
“No!” I scream, but the sound is strangled. “Stay away from me!”
Just as he did the night of my panic attack, he lifts his hands in surrender and stops his advance toward me. “Elise, it’s okay. You’re just in shock right now.”
I heave a sob. “Don’t come near me, you sick bastard.”
He doesn’t even seem to notice my insults. “You’re injured. Let me help you.”
“Help me? You’re the one that did this to me! He was only acting on your orders!”
“I gave him no orders, Elise. I swear, I never would’ve allowed this to happen to you.”
He takes another step toward me.
“No!” I shriek, hurting my own ears. “I hate you, Joshua! Just kill me already and get it over with! Haven’t you tortured me enough?”
I don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to care when pain settles over his weary face. He has no right to hurt—not after what he’s put me through.
“Elise,” he calls gently, crouching down until we’re at eye level. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”
I only shake my head.
He gives me a look that I’m sure I’ve never seen on him before: regret.
“I told you everything,” I cry, voice breaking pathetically on the words.
“I know.”
“Then why did you do this to me?” I want to wipe my face, but the chains are heavy, and I’m too weak to raise my arms.
He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again. “Please, let me take care of you. We can talk once you’re cleaned up. I promise no one else will touch you.”
I’ve heard that lie before.
“Stay away from me!”
“I can’t leave you here. You need to let me unchain you.”
I look around, desperate for another option.
“Ryder?”
Ryder snaps out of his shock and composes his expression as he takes measured steps across the room to my crumpled body.
“Only to unchain me,” I tell him when he’s only a few feet away. “Nothing else.”
He nods, crouching before me and reaching for my binds. I try to raise my arms to help, but my back throbs, and I drop them with a whimper. Ryder moves his hands gently over my wrists, unlocking the chains he secured not long ago.
Once I’m released, Ryder steps back.
I rub my wrists, though their pain is nothing compared to the wounds covering my back.
Placing my hands on the cool concrete, I push myself to a sitting position.
At first, the air connecting with the blood is cooling, but after a few seconds, there’s a burning that forces another round of tears to fill my eyes.
My cheeks heat with shame as I tug my ripped clothing back into place.
After a strained breath, I work to get my feet beneath me, but every part of my body screams in agony, and I can’t stop my pitiful whimpers. As hard as I try, my body is too weak, and I stumble over my own feet.
Right before I hit the ground, Ryder rushes to my side and takes hold of me under each arm.
But in saving me from the fall, his fingers dig into the open gashes on my back.
“Ahh!” I shriek, now dangerously close to passing out.
I can’t bring myself to open my eyes and see their expressions, but I’m gently lowered back onto the floor. To relieve the burn, I roll onto my side.
Joshua curses under his breath in a strained whisper.
They’ve both just seen the real damage.
So, it’s worse than I thought.
“Please, let me help you,” Joshua pleads with a new urgency.
Turning my face to the ground, I shake my head. “You’re about thirty lashes too late.”
It’s Ryder’s smooth voice that speaks to me now. “Will you let me help you stand?”
I want to say no. I want nothing to do with either of these men, but what other choice do I have? Joshua’s right, I can’t stay here.
A weak nod is my consent.
Careful of my injuries this time, he takes hold of my waist and hand before pulling me to a standing position. I sway as soon as I’m on my feet, and black spots crowd my vision, but Ryder keeps a firm hold on me.
“Assist her in any way she needs,” Joshua tells Ryder, but his eyes never stray from me.
We begin walking, and as we pass Joshua, I feel his eyes staring into my massacred back.
“Elise,” he calls, and though we stop, I don’t turn to look at him.
“I am so sorry. I know you hate me, and that’s okay, but you need to know that I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Tears stream down my pitiless face. “I won’t ever forgive you for this.”
It takes Ryder and me quite some time to get back to my room, and I’m deliriously tired by the time we get there.
The first thing I notice is that the TV is gone. As I look more closely at the room, I find that, though it’s clean, everything is off, almost as if someone has been looking through my stuff.
Only, it isn’t my stuff. The only thing here that really belonged to me was that stupid note, and there’s no way I’ll ever get that back.
Ryder takes a chair from the table and motions to it. “Sit with your stomach facing the back of the chair.”
I nod, limping over and sitting as he told me to. He takes his time analyzing my back before he walks to my bed and pulls the sheets off.
He holds them out to me. “I need to get a better look at your back, so I’m going to cut off your shirt—”
“No!” I can still feel the ghost of Tripp’s hands roaming my body, ripping my shirt down to touch me.
“Use the sheet to cover your front. I swear I won’t touch you without your permission, but there’s a chance that you’ll need stitches, so I need to get a better look.”
A shudder rocks my body, and more tears threaten to burst, so I only nod shakily. There’s a rustling behind me, and a feather-light touch lifts the blood-soaked fabric from where it clings to me. Ryder is careful to avoid touching my raw, sensitive skin as he removes the shirt completely.
He mutters a curse, and I grip the sheet tighter, wishing it could hide my shame, too.
“That bad?” My voice is little more than a croak.
“He really did a number on you. You don’t need stitches, but I’ll need to clean these. I’m going to get the first aid kit. I’ll be right back.” I nod and hear his footsteps retreat, the door shutting behind him.
Ryder returns only minutes later, and I expect him to get right to work, but he circles in front of me first, holding out a bottle of water and two pills. I don’t hesitate or even ask what they are. I just take them and gulp down half the bottle of water in one swig.
“Is it okay if I touch your back now? Just to clean it up, I promise.”
I take a deep breath and reluctantly nod.
“This might sting, but it’s going to help,” he tells me. Though I fear I can’t handle any more pain, his honey-smooth voice is reassuring enough to soothe me.
“Okay,” I say, bracing myself for the worst.
I’m not sure if it’s the pain meds kicking in or if my body is just numbing to the sensation of pain altogether, but the disinfecting process isn’t nearly as bad as I expected.
“Would you like me to run a bath before I bandage your back?”
I nod, desperate to scrub my body clean. I feel filthy, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m covered in blood and sweat.
“I’ll get the water running,” he offers and goes into the bathroom.
I stand and limp to the dresser, holding the sheet over my still-naked front while I pick out a large T-shirt and loose shorts.
Ryder steps out of the bathroom. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
I shut the bathroom door behind me, leaving it unlocked on the off-chance I need him. Several more tears are shed while removing my remaining clothes, but I eventually get it done.
I know I shouldn’t, but I turn my back toward the mirror and peer over my shoulder to see the damage.
Even after being cleaned up, there’s not a single patch of unharmed skin. My whole back is blood red, either from open wounds, actual blood, or intense agitation.
This is my body. Marred and scarred.
Even if I happen to walk away from here alive, I’ll never be the same. How could I be? I hoped I’d survive with only emotional damage, but that’s impossible now.
I’ll always have these marks.
I don’t know how long I stare at myself in the mirror, but by the time I’m done, the tub is more than halfway full of lukewarm water.
I don’t climb all the way inside, though my aching shoulders beg me to. Instead, I sit on the edge of the tub and use a washcloth to clean myself.
I take my time scrubbing every inch of my body, needing to erase the feel of groping hands. It’s only when my skin is bright red that I deem myself clean and drain the tub.
Despite the soft towel, drying myself is a long and painful experience, so I’m still mostly wet when I pull my clothes on. I forgo a bra, stepping into my underwear and shorts before holding the bloody towel to my chest.
Half an hour later, my back is clean and bandaged, covered by a large T-shirt that rarely brushes against the raw skin.
“Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head, ready to be alone.
He nods, and I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t.
“What?” I snap.
He meets my tired eyes with perfect sincerity. “Mr. Moreno doesn’t apologize. Ever. He also doesn’t do movie nights or garden lunches. I know he’s done a lot of bad things, but—”
“Ryder.” My throat burns, but I force the words out anyway.
“I didn’t ask for your help because we’re friends.
I asked for you because you’re the only one who hasn’t beaten and assaulted me.
Don’t be mistaken—I haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who chained me up in the first place.
Patching me up doesn’t actually fix anything, so you can give it a rest. I know what kind of man Joshua is, and nothing you say will change that. ”