Saving Rain: The First Novel in The Rain Trilogy (19 page)

“He grabbed the picture and started yelling at me, and I started crying. He screamed at me to stop, yelling that crying shows weakness, and he wouldn’t tolerate weakness. I tried to stop, but I missed her so much.” She picks at a string on the pillow on the couch next to her, not able to look at Kas, knowing that the concern in his eyes will be her undoing.

“What happened?” he softly urges her to continue.

Painful memories come flooding back, memories that she has tried to bury, and it’s so hard letting them back in. She takes a deep breath, not wanting to relive any part of her past after her mother died. She forces herself to look at Kas, to have enough strength to allow him into her dark past. “He took his belt off and started hitting me with it, screaming at me to stop crying. The more I tried to stop, the harder I cried, and the harder he hit me. I remember curling up in a ball, trying so hard to stop crying so he would stop hitting me.” Saying the words out loud makes her feel empty, and the old ache in her heart burns back to life.

Kas pulls Raina into his arms, running his hand down her hair as he kisses the top of her head. “You were only five years old, you missed your mother, you did nothing wrong by crying,” he manages to say while trying to rein in the anger and burning desire to pummel her father with his fists.

Part of her wants to bury herself in his loving arms and not come out for hours, but the old feelings stirring to life again in her threaten her control, and she pulls back from him. She leans against the couch arm, on the opposite side of the couch. She catches a flicker of an emotion she can’t quite place run through Kas’ eyes before he regains his composure and gives her the space she needs and leans against his side of the couch.

“How often did he hurt you?” Kas almost chokes on the words, trying to hold back as much of his emotions as possible. He doesn’t want to scare her with the anger he’s sure she feels from him as she confesses her past.

Shaking her head, Raina shyly shrugs her shoulders, wishing that they could stop talking about this, wishing that she could move on and forget it ever happened, but she knows that she will never really forget, no matter how deeply she buries it. She also knows that Kas will not let it go now, so she gives in and offers just enough to, hopefully, satisfy his need to understand her childhood.

“It wasn’t as often at first. After the first time, he pretty much ignored me for a few weeks. He would work late, then go out with friends to the bar, I was usually in bed before he got home. I also made sure that I didn’t do anything to make him mad.”

“You were only five, who kept you while he was gone?”

“He hired nannies until I was nine, and then I stayed by myself.”

“Didn’t the nanny notice anything that was going on?”

“He hired so many, he kept changing them so often that none of them were there long enough to notice anything, besides, they didn’t live with us, and he never did anything in front of them or leave marks where they could see them.”

Kas’ jaw tightens, and she knows that he’s upset by how his vein is twitching. She muses at how his soft, kind eyes are so out of place with the anger radiating from the rest of him.

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

Raina cringes at his question, knowing that she could have, but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone. As irrational as it is, it still felt like telling was betraying her father. “No, not until I turned sixteen and was emancipated.”

Kas leans closer to her and stares at his hands, carefully considering his next words for a few seconds before continuing, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not judging you, but why didn’t you tell someone?”

“He was still my father, and he wasn’t like that before my mom died. I remembered how he used to be with her, so happy, and I guess I hoped that if I was good enough, he would be that way again. I tried to please him, I would study and get good grades, I cooked, kept the house clean, I even started reading some of his law books, but nothing I did helped. It didn’t matter if I had done something to warrant him punishing me or not, he just seemed to get angry by looking at me.” Raina looks away, embarrassed at how much she’s telling him, not knowing exactly why she’s telling him more than the vague details she had originally decided to divulge.

“Don’t do that, don’t turn away, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kas tells her while gently pulling her chin back up so she is eye level with him again. “None of what he did to you was your fault, you didn’t deserve to be beaten, Raina.”

She lowers her gaze again, not able to bring herself to look at him.

“Hey, look at me,” he pulls her chin back up again. “You know that you didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, don’t you?” Kas asks, pain searing through him at the thought of her blaming herself for how her father beat her.

Her pause gives far too much away, and Kas pulls her to where she is facing him. “Raina, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?” he asks a little more forcefully.

Her whole body goes cold, and she bites her lip to keep it from trembling as her father’s words ring in her ears, his accusations of how her mother would be alive if it weren’t for her play, over and over, in her head like some cruel, broken record.

“Oh, honey, what are you not telling me?” Kas asks, his voice laced with concern.

“My mother died after she dropped me off at school,” Raina mutters, her confession barely audible.

“No, Raina! No!” he states firmly. “You are not to blame for your mother dying. It was an accident, Rain. I read the report of the wreck, and no one was to blame, the roads were wet, it was just an accident.”

“Logically, I realize that, but if it weren’t for me she wouldn’t have even been on that road that day,” she shoots back angrily. She knows what Kas is saying is true, but she can’t stop the guilt that sweeps through her.

“Sweetheart, you are not to blame for that, for any of it,” Kas says softly.

The guilt in her eyes betrays her, and she sees anger flash on his face.

“Your father blamed you?” he spits out angrily.

Not able to manage to speak the truth, she just meekly nods her head.

Kas runs his hands through his hair, obviously trying to calm down and failing miserably at it. “He told you that it was your fault,” he half asks, half states, and her lack of response is the only acknowledgement he needs. “I saw the photos. I saw the awful welts and bruises, did he hurt you like that before?” he questions, his tone shaky and full of uncontrolled emotion.

Despite her conscious effort to not tell him everything, the words just keep coming. “He never hit me in the face before that. He usually used his belt, and never hit me where someone could see the welts or bruises before that night.”

“So, he just beat you black and blue in hidden areas, so no one would know!” Dark and ugly rage makes his blood run cold at her father’s cruelty. The knowledge of her father planning on where to hit her somehow makes what he did to her so much more devious.

“What happened that night? You were covered in bruises, even though they were a few days old in the pictures, you had them on every part of your body.” Kas swallows hard, emotion making his voice hoarse and thick from the memories of the images burning in his head of how badly her father had hurt her.

“I had already planned to try for emancipation aft-,” she slips, but quickly recovers, not wanting Kas to know that horrific part of her past. “I decided to try to talk with him before he had any alcohol in his system. It was a few days before my sixteenth birthday, and I had poured out all of the liquor in the house and waited for him to come home. I needed to give him one last chance before I went to talk to Judge.”

She can’t repress the shudder this time as memories of that night invade her. “I didn’t know that he had gotten out of court early that day and had gone to the bar to celebrate a big victory in the case they had just won. He had already been drinking when he got home. He did what he always did when he walked through the door and went straight to the liquor cabinet, but it was empty. I knew when he turned around that it was going to be bad.”

Her mouth goes dry as she continues confessing the painful details of that night. “He went to the kitchen, and there was none there either, then he saw the empty bottles in the trash, and he was so angry. I tried to explain that I just wanted to talk with him, but he hit me with the back of his hand, knocking me down.” Her voice shakes, and her body goes even colder as she continues, “He started kicking me, and he picked me up and threw me on the table, and I knew he going to use his belt. I managed to get away and run, but my legs were hurting from where he had kicked me, and he caught me in the living room.” She stops, the memories from that night of the pain from her father’s fists and belt bombard her, and she closes her eyes, trying desperately to shut them out.

Kas gives Raina time to process her emotions before he gently squeezes her hand, encouraging her to go on. She takes a shallow breath and opens her eyes, but she can’t look at him. “He pushed me into the side table, and it broke, that’s how I got the cut on my side. He punched me, and he started kicking me again, then he used his belt.” She stops and wraps her arms around her knees, trying to block out the coldness spreading over her from the memories of the painful sting of her father’s belt and the even harsher pain from his words telling her that she is nothing, just worthless trash. She brings her knees tighter to her chest, not wanting to remember that night anymore.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kas pulls Raina across the couch onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, but she doesn’t uncurl from her position and lean into him this time. She tightens her grip around her knees and hugs them tighter to her, desperate to keep the last bit of control she has inside of her intact. She can’t let herself fall into his embrace, she would break if she did that, and she can’t let him see her breakdown.

“Sweetheart, I am so, so sorry,” Kas whispers soothingly while he strokes her hair, but she tunes him out, not allowing herself to be comforted. He holds her for what seems like hours before he lets go of her. He brushes the hair out of her face and studies her for a minute before asking, “The bruises had changed color, they were a few days old when the pictures were taken, what happened between the night he beat you and when the pictures were taken?”

Raina can tell by the tone of his voice that he is going somewhere with this, and she’s just not ready to lead him there. “I didn’t see him for a few days,” she tells him truthfully, praying that he will take that answer at face value and not dig any further.

Kas looks at Raina, studying her, and she lowers her head, letting her hair fall as a protective barrier against his trained skills of detecting lies, or in her case, half-truths. His investigative instincts kick in, and he doesn’t let her off so easily. He tucks her auburn shield behind her ear before he slips off the couch to his knees in front of her, where she has no other option but to look at him.

“I need to tell you something, Raina,” he begins. This time it’s him who looks down as he continues, “I met with Judge Whitaker, Henry, earlier today.”

All of the air leaves her lungs, “You what?” She uncurls from her sitting fetal position and starts to stand, but Kas grabs her arms, gently but firmly, leading her back down.

“You talked with Judge?” Fear, shame, embarrassment, and a few other emotions that she doesn’t have the current faculties to recognize right now, wash over her at the same time. She has worked so hard at starting a new life, far away from her old one. In almost four years, Judge has been the only common denominator between the two with their quarterly get-togethers.

Judge knows how she feels and has never asked her anything about her father after he granted her the emancipation. He has never crossed the line and mingled the old with the new, until now. The knowledge of Judge giving Kas information of her past feels like a blow to her stomach. Raina tries to calm herself down, knowing that even Judge doesn’t know many details, just enough about what happened that last time to grant her freedom.

Renewed panic runs hotly through her veins as she remembers the deal she made with her father after he was brought to Judge’s chambers the night she finally went to him. She had begged Judge to let her speak privately with her father for a few minutes, knowing that was her last chance to do something about Brian. She knows Judge is a smart man, and she is aware that he has his suspicions that more went on then what her father had told him about Brian, but he never pushed her, never brought it up to her again. She’s terrified that he brought it up to Kas.

“What happened during that time, Raina?” Kas’ question snaps her back from her nightmare.

Raina is tempted to lie to him, but she knows he deserves better than to be lied to, besides, he would be able to tell if she were lying. Resignedly, she decides to tell him, not seeing the purpose in hiding it anymore. Kas already has a terrible image of her father, and she knows that nothing she says can make that better, so she decides to tell him the truth, with the exception of her father’s part with Brian. She forces herself to swallow, her mouth is so dry, and she hopes her voice isn’t as shaky as she feels, “I wasn’t able to go to Judge any earlier.”

“Why?” the one simple word comes out so raw, Kas has to make himself ask her.

“Because, my father locked me in the attic.” Raina knows that telling Kas this part will show the cruelest part of her father, and she doesn’t want Kas to see her father as some kind of monster. She knows her father was an abusive alcoholic. She knows he was physically and emotionally abusive, but at least he wasn’t like other parents you read about who burn their children, who cut them, or who sexually abuse them. That night, four years ago, rampages her mind again, but she pushes it back. She tells herself that at least it wasn’t her father who was the one who raped her.
No,
he
was
just
the
one
who
covered
it
up
after
it
happened
, her memories bitterly remind her.

Kas stands up, once again running his hand through his hair. He turns away for a minute, to gain some composure, to stop the trembling in his hands from her admission. He turns back to her, the softness in his eyes back, but the tension in his jaw is wound even tighter. “How long did he lock you in the attic, Raina?”

“Four days,” she whispers, fidgeting with her fingers.

“How did you eat or drink?” Kas asks, his composure hanging on by a mere thread.

“There is a bathroom in the attic, so I had access to water,” she states, trying to make that sound as positive as possible.

“What about food, Raina?” his question comes out angrier than he intended. Once again, she looks away, and the last thread of his composure snaps. “He didn’t feed you for four days?” Kas yells, his voice dripping with undiluted contempt.

Raina cringes, not out of fear, she knows Kas would never hurt her. Even as furious as he is right now, she knows his anger isn’t directed at her. People seeing her father for what he did, her fear from most of her secrets being exposed, her twisted childhood being brought to light, sickens her. There are reasons she didn’t want anyone to know. She doesn’t want pity, she just wants anonymity, escape from the memories, escape from the past.

Kas sees Raina wince, and he drops to his knees, grabbing her hands reassuringly in his. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, reeling in his anger.

She is thoroughly amazed at how he can be so angry but yet so gentle at the same time. “You didn’t scare me,” she answers honestly and manages to give him a small smile, not wanting him to be hurt the way he was last night.

“How many times did he lock you in the attic, Raina?” Kas asks, hanging his head low, like the answer is going to physically hurt him.

“Just three times,” she answers, hoping that him knowing it wasn’t a regular occurrence will ease him somewhat.

“
Just
three,” he replies bitterly, “it never should’ve happened even once, Raina.”

She looks away, knowing he’s right.

“How long were you in the attic the other two times?”

“Just a little over a day the first time and three days the second time.”

“Your meaning of ‘just’ and my meaning of ‘just’ seems to be entirely different at the moment. Why are you defending him, Rain? He beat you, and then he starved you!”

“I don’t want you to see him as some kind of monster,” she admits sadly.

“I don’t see him as a monster. I see him exactly as who he is, a man who told his daughter she was to blame for her mother’s accidental death, a man who continually beat his daughter with his belt so harshly it left welts, bruises, and even cuts, a man who locked away and starved his daughter, a man who made his daughter think she was weak if she cried when he was the one who was weak and got drunk every night instead of being the type of father he should have been!” Kas seethes. “Monster’s aren’t real, Raina, but your father is!”

Emptiness fills her every pore at his words. She has tried for so long to blame the alcohol for her father’s treatment, but the truth is that, even though he drank every night, she has only seen him actually drunk once, after what happened with Brian. “He didn’t drink until he was drunk, not usually. He was always able to function. It’s not like he was some kind of passed out drunk,” Raina replies, mad at herself at the realization that she is defending him.

“That doesn’t make it any better, Rain. If he were the type of drunk to pass out every night, maybe that would have saved you from some of the beatings.”

She cringes at that word; she hates the word ‘beatings’. It sounds so heartless, and it hurts too much to think that there wasn’t at least a sliver of love for her left inside of her father. “Please, stop saying he beat me.”

“Raina, you referred to what your father did to you as punishments earlier. A punishment is being grounded, having something taken away for a while, and I don’t mean sustenance! Maybe even a spanking that doesn’t leave marks. What your father did to you wasn’t punishment, it was much, much worse,” Kas tells her as he tenderly strokes her palms with his thumbs.

Memories of her father’s idea of punishment haunt her. His words ‘
You
deserve
this’
taunt her as she remembers how it felt when the fierce bite of his belt repeatedly bit into her tender skin. ‘
You
deserve
this,
’ rings in her ears as she remembers the sound of the door slamming and the key turning when her father had locked her in the attic for so long, leaving her so weak from hunger that she could barely stand on her own when he had finally let her out.

“How old were you when he locked you in the attic the first time?”

“I had just turned six, it was the day after my birthday, and I was sick. I kept thinking of how my mom used to make me cream of chicken soup when I was sick and snuggle with me in my bed, reading to me until I fell asleep. I was missing her so much and I guess being sick made me more emotional, because I started to cry when I thought of her. I knew better than to cry, I hadn’t cried since the first incident with my father, but I was so lonely and I felt so bad. It was late, my father was working in his study, and I stopped crying and snuck downstairs to put some cream of chicken soup in the microwave. He must have heard the beep when the soup was done because he came into the kitchen to see why I was still awake. I tried to hide my eyes, but he saw that they were red from where I had been crying, and he grabbed me and told me that, if I couldn’t learn the easy way, I would have to learn the hard way. He put me in the attic and told me that he wouldn’t let me out until I learned that he would not tolerate crying or disobedience.”

Kas shakes his head sadly, and Raina is grateful that he doesn’t look at her with pity, just kindness and empathy. “I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine,” she says, trying to reassure him.

“I wish I could strip that word from your vocabulary,” Kas admonishes softly. “There’s one more thing I need to ask you, Raina,” he starts, looking her pointedly in the eye, and her stomach flutters nervously from what he might ask. “The day after your emancipation, Brian Keever, your father’s partner in the firm, was arrested on child pornography charges. I don’t put much stock into coincidence.”

Raina feels the color drain from her face and her stomach ties in knots. Breathing is no longer an automatic function, and she has to concentrate to take in air.

Kas grabs her face, worry emanating from him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Raina pulls away from him, needing to get away, needing to escape from the concern spilling from his eyes, from the gentleness in his touch. She can’t take his kindness without it destroying all of her barriers. She can’t let him know any more. There’s no way she can allow him into this putrid part of her life. She can’t allow those memories to over take her again. Raina is barely able to push herself up from the couch, her knees are shaking so fiercely that she feels like they are going to give way as those dark, filthy memories barge into her like a battering ram, smashing into the wall she has spent over four years building.

Kas is in front of her before she even has time to take a step, his hands grabbing her shoulders. His jaw is so tight it looks like it might lock into that fierce expression of barely repressed rage. “What did he do to you?” he asks, his words menacing and full of the threat of excruciating retribution.

She needs water for real this time. Her mouth is so dry it takes work just to open it to mumble, “Water,” before she somehow manages to carry herself on her wobbly legs to the kitchen. Raina shakily grabs a glass from the cabinet and barely manages the menial task of turning on the faucet before she collapses against the sink, unable to hold her own weight anymore.

The battering ram finally breaks through the wall that she doesn’t have the strength to defend anymore, and the memories of that night flood through her like a river of fire. She tries to take a sip of water, but her hands are trembling so badly that the water spills over the top, running down her hand, onto the counter. She puts the glass down and grips the edge of the sink so tightly she can see her knuckles go white as she is overwhelmed with dark memories making her feel like she was on that couch again with Brian, his large, angry hand roughly grabbing her wrists, holding her in place as he pushes his other hand up her skirt.

The memory of his scent fills her nostrils pungently, the smell of the sickeningly sweet, musky cologne had almost made her gag, and she chokes on the memory. As her mind replays what had happened next, the last shred of strength from her legs give way, and she starts to go down. Raina is barely conscious of Kas sweeping her off her useless feet before she hits the ground and lifting her into his arms. She feels split in two as she lays her head against his strong shoulder, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in the sheer strength of Kas, a strength more powerful than her father, Chris, and even Brian, a strength that shelters her in protection instead of strength that subjects her to pain and utter helplessness.