Behind The Mask (Nurses Book 2) (8 page)

After dinner, which is all this heart healthy crap and watching a movie in my room, I pull out my laptop and wait for it to connect to the slow as molasses Wi-Fi here. I have to know what happened to her. It’s been all I’ve thought about since Allyn said something to me earlier. Sure, I could try to get in good with her and wait for her to tell me, but something about her makes me think she won’t be so forthcoming with that tale. While I wait for the search engine to take its sweet time to open, I think back on what Allyn said. Basically, all the men want her, but she needs a man worthy of her. For someone who is wanted by all, she sure seems oblivious to the desires of everyone.

I’m certainly not the man that is worthy of having such a woman. I’m just curious as to what happened to her. I’ve got enough problems on my plate than dealing with a woman with baggage the size of Texas. After my search engine opens, I type in Cori Shawbell and press enter. After about a minute I am flooded with information of every Cori Shawbell in existence. Pictures of her before whatever happened and a grainy picture of her that was taken in a hospital. Some of these pictures are of her smiling, carefree, looking like a party girl. Looking exactly like the kind of girl I would take home from a bar. But there are more serious pictures, too—after her accident— her scars red and angry. One of her in a hospital bed, on a ventilator with bandages covering a good portion of her. She looks so small in that one, almost childlike. Swollen and battered, her face has those butterfly bandages keeping the wound closed.

I haven’t read anything yet, I’m just taking my time looking at the before and after. The one thing that remains the same is the eyes. Her eyes are brown, like melted chocolate or caramel, with these long eyelashes that sweep her cheeks when she blinks. Her eyes carry a gentleness that instantly welcomes you, even when she is angry. Eyes that when they enter the room they instantly look for an escape, like they want to be anywhere but where they actually are.

Listen to me, I sound like a bitch. But all I can feel with this woman is a fierce protectiveness. I know that once I read these articles I will be seeing red, so I’m taking my time studying her features before I get to the nitty gritty. What’s odd is that looking at the old pictures are great, she was a knockout and I mean grade-a gorgeous and still is. But looking at the new ones gets my dick hard… hard enough to pound nails. The new pictures have an edge to them that wasn’t there when she was the cookie cutter gorgeous. Maybe a sadness? It makes me feel worse because who gets their dick hard on someone’s sadness?

Clicking on a link, I see that it’s a national news organization that has written an article about her. So this was that big of a deal, and I never heard of it. I don’t know if I was even stateside when it happened. Taking a deep breath, I start reading. Didn’t even make it out of the first paragraph without seeing red and wanting to snap my laptop in half. A few months ago, an inmate who was the leader of a gang started a riot at the prison Cori where worked. Cori got caught in it and paid a huge price, one that almost was life ending. Come to find out the inmate had an obsession with a different nurse but decided to take it out on her. I feel sick to my stomach reading this. She was raped multiple times by multiple inmates, bitten, beaten, and cut. When she was rescued, she was barely breathing and spent a few months in the hospital with the first few weeks on a ventilator.

By the time I’m done reading the first article I’m seething, but I can’t stop. I have to keep reading, maybe there is different information in each article. Because as of right now, I want to dig up this fucker and string him up from Hell. I feel murderous, wanting to rip something limb from limb. I’m ferocious with the taste of blood, and that taste has left me wanting more.

I want to save her, redeem her, polish her tarnish. But hell, I can’t even stay in a wheelchair, let alone try to help this woman. Plus, I need to decide whether it’s my dick wanting to help or if I really feel that way. Barely being able to help myself is an understatement, so how the hell would I help her? She deserves so much more than some man whore who’s missing a leg.  I can’t offer her shit in this life except a friendship, and who the hell wants that? I’m a shell of the man that I used to be. I have no home, no friends, no anything in this life. But I just can’t ignore this feeling. Something about her calls to me, making me feel things I’ve never felt towards another person before. Hell, I’ve only known her for one fucking day, who acts like this?

Reading more, that fucker wasn’t the only casualty of the riot. Other inmates died along with guards and another nurse. I also see a mention of the woman who was the original target of this sadistic asshole. Her name was Olivia and going back through the pictures I see one of her, Cori, and some dude. They all look friendly, which irritates me. I dunno why because she isn’t my girl. But seeing another man with his arm around her and that other girl has me pissed even further.

I shut it down for the night because I’m so pissed off that I’m shaking. In the pit of my stomach is a fire that has been ignited. A fire that wants me to change, to redeem myself, a fire that gives me a sliver of hope for the future. Starting with rehab and therapy and all that psychobabble bullshit. I still know nothing about this girl, but something about her calls to me. A siren song to my soul, as cheesy as that sounds. But I feel that if I can get myself on track, then I can try to slay her dragons. I know that she has to fix herself, but I can be the one to help her. Now, I just lay here and wait… wait for the nightmare that plagues me every night. Wait for the morning when I can try to do better. Wait, always waiting it seems, but now this waiting doesn’t seem so bad.

~~

Heat on my face and a pain where my leg used to be. I feel the fires raging all around me. I see the broken and battered bodies flung in every different direction. Someone’s brain matter stains the sand. Shouting in a foreign language is assaulting my ears along with a ringing I know is from the roadside bomb. People are running all around, women’s hijabs are flapping in the air as they frantically run around. Ramirez is facing me, yet again, with his eyes wide open. It’s the same nightmare, every night. But I know this is a nightmare, and I know that this will end.

Even though a nightmare, it all feels so very real. My brothers, my friends, my comrades all lying with no spark in their eyes, one even staring at me, unblinking. It’s like losing them all over again, day after day. My heart gets ripped out whenever I close my eyes. But it’s not often that I have two nightmares or flashbacks or whatever the fuck you want to call them, back to back. Usually, it’s one a day, at night when the world is quiet, the agony creeps in. The horrors of that day replay on an endless loop until morning when I can see the clouds move away. Laying here in the sand, just waiting, I decide to try something new. I calm myself because subconsciously I know this is just a dream, and it isn’t real anymore. I take a deep breath through the pain to calm myself. Someone sees me moving, trying to get to my guys, and for the first time, someone walks towards me.

Huh, well this is new. Nobody has ever come to me before.

Maybe this is what happened after I blacked out in that desert waiting for the rescue crew to get to us. They walk closer, their face covered by the sun. I reach for my sidearm but nothing is there.
What the fuck is going on? This has never happened before.
They aren’t stopping just meandering closer to me, and I can finally see their eyes and face. Now I know my mind is playing fucking tricks on me because that piece of shit Xavier has no reason to be here, he’s the one who attacked Cori. I’m dumbfounded, but I’m on guard as he approaches because that is all I can do. Somewhere in the blast, I have lost my sidearm, lost any way to defend myself.

“You know, I was the last man in that cunt, and I’ll probably be the last man to touch her, too. Her screams were music to my ears, and I swallowed her screams, letting them fuel me as I pounded into her dry pussy. She never stood a chance with me,” he sneers out.

“I am going to fucking murder you.”

“But see that is where you are wrong, my boy, I’m already dead. Her bitch friend killed me. But at least, I got to enjoy the taste of Cori before I died. I ruined her, I devoured every inch of her skin and branded her with my marks. I wrecked her for the rest of her life. Nobody will have that girl again.”

My blood is boiling, reaching a fever pitch that I didn’t know was possible. I  know this is a flashback, but it still affects me in a way that is off the charts. If I could stand I would gladly gut this man in my nightmare. I would take out all of my frustration on his face. I would live a thousand of these nightmares a night just to see his face each time and to be able to kill him over and over again.

He finally gets close enough for me to reach out to try to touch him, but I can’t. It’s like my body will not let me lift my hand. But my mind certainly lets him reach out to touch me because the last thing I remember before I wake up is him lifting his booted foot and smashing it into my face and hearing a crunch. I wake with a jolt, sweat covering myself and bed. It was so fucking real.

~~

The next morning, I get myself up and shower off the trauma of last night. I feel a little bit better than I have in the recent weeks, maybe because I have a little bit of purpose. I’m going to get to know this woman. I’m going to make sure that she is ok, even if she doesn’t want me to. She will survive, even if I have to force her to.

Now I’m not saying that I don’t want to fuck her as well, because good God she is gorgeous, and probably had men weep at her feet before her incident. I don’t even know what to call that, it certainly wasn’t an accident and that doesn’t give what happened to her justice. It was a fucking tragedy.

Taking a deep breath, I open my door and wheel myself out into the hallway. I pass by some really old men who are just sitting, rotting away in their chairs, and I feel really good about my decision to get it together. I can’t imagine someone having to take care of me. I could never be a burden to someone. I’ve always been independent, and I need to get that back. Making my way to the day room where everything went down yesterday, I pass by the nurse’s station. I don’t see anyone in there, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t sitting down. Being in this chair has its disadvantages. Even though I’m tall, I’m not tall enough to see over the counter.

“Didn’t think we would see you for a while,” Allyn says from behind me.

“Well, you know, gotta be worth my salt and all.”

“Thatta boy. A word to the wise, don’t let her know you know about everything. She doesn’t seem like the type to want to relive it over and over.”

I know that and normally I would tell the old man to go fuck himself, but I’m trying to turn a new leaf, so I just nod at him. He seems satisfied and goes about his way. Besides, he seems genuinely concerned with her well-being. I can’t fault the man for that. I’ve only just met her, and I’m concerned, too. Wheeling into the day room I look around, even though I was just here yesterday I don’t know anything about this place. I’ve never really been out of my room, never wanting to talk to anyone.

Generic paintings of flowers and bowls of fruit are on the walls, along with a big screen TV sitting on a table pushed into the corner of the room. For a ‘day room,’ this place sucks and is super depressing.

“Knight, is that you?”

Turning around I see it’s that super chipper nurse, Sam. She is that saccharine sweet girl that is overly nice to everyone but deep inside is the most rotten. The mean girl, the smile on your face but shit on you the first chance she can get. She’s the type of girl that I would fuck in a bathroom stall at a bar. But I try to school my face so I don’t come off as a dick when I’m trying to turn the page.

“Yes.”

“I’m so glad to see you out of your room and joining us in the land of the living. Should I tell your physical therapist? I’m sure they will be just as thrilled as me.”

Oh boy, she has a glint in her eyes like she is hungry and I’m the steak. She’s a pretty girl, but too fake for my tastes. She looks like she would taste of sickly sweet lip crap women use.

“You can tell them.”

“Yay, I can’t wait to see what you are capable of once you put your mind to it. You will be walking in no time, I’m sure of it.” She touches my shoulder, and my skin crawls like ants are covering me.

“Thanks.” What else do I say? She is blatantly flirting with me, which I’m sure is against the rules. Not really that big of a deal because I wish Cori would flirt with me, but shit lady, have some tact.

“Where is Cori?” I hope my voice doesn’t sound too hopeful, but I want to see her.

Sam’s face instantly falls and she gets a look as if she smells something rotten. There’s the shit factor I was talking about earlier. She seems to be intimidated by Cori which is insane, Cori is way better looking.

“Oh, well, I don’t know. She is probably schlepping around somewhere. But I will let PT know you are in here.”

With that, she walks out, but I can tell she’s trying to put a little extra sway in her step. At one point in time, I would have had her riding me in my wheelchair right here in the day room, but that is all the past. I don’t know why she’s trying so hard, but then again I’m the only man under fifty in this place it seems.

I roll myself over toward the window and what do I see? Cori walking in, talking to an older gentleman in a police uniform. I notice that as they are walking she keeps her head down, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable with the man. She just seems like someone whose self-esteem is so low that she can’t look anyone in the eyes. She would rather hide behind a curtain of hair, or looking down than face the world head on. Even though she has nothing to worry about, I understand her desire not to be noticed, though. I want to murder that sick fuck all over again for what he’s done to her. But man, just watching her, she is breathtaking. She’s the kind of woman that even if you know every dirty detail, you still want more.