Wyatt (13 page)

I don’t recognize him, then again, I haven’t been here long enough to know all the officers.

“Ma’am are you okay?” he asks again.

“I don’t know how to go in,” I say, and it sounds stupid to me so I can only imagine how stupid it must sound to him.

He glances at the building then back to me. “Is there someone I can call for you?” he asks.

I frown. I want him to just go. He’s making me feel really anxious. I need to figure out how to get in, not stand here answering his stupid questions I have no answers to.

“No,” I snap. “Just go.”

My body moves by itself and I take a step backwards, away from him, but he doesn’t get the message because he takes one forward. My eyes drop to his hands and his blue uniform melts in with the black night. All I see are his hands, and how he’s lifting them slowly toward me.

Something reaches deep inside of me and takes hold of my heart and lungs, and it starts to tighten its grip on me, crushing the life out of me. Every ounce of air. Every drop of blood.

All I see is black, his hands and the red flashing lights.

I can’t let him take me again.

I only realize I’m running when I hear his racing steps behind me. I’m not that fast. I know I can’t out run him. But I try anyway. I’ll run until I drop dead. All I hear is my wheezing breaths and his feet slapping behind me on the concrete. I can feel the cold concrete already pressing into my body and it makes me go faster.

“Scarlett!” His voice sounds like a beacon, but I can’t see him.

“Wyatt!” I try to call, but it comes out a wheeze. I start to cry, because he’s so near but I can’t see him.

Again he’s so near, and again he won’t be able to help me.

My head starts to pound, and my body grows heavy with lead. I can’t run anymore. I can’t breathe anymore. I wish my heart would just stop so all this madness would stop.

~*~

Chapter Seventeen

Wyatt~

I buried Jessie yesterday. It was nice of Mama and Aiden to come. Mrs. Russell was there too. At least the four of us were there. But all I kept thinking about was Scarlett.

And then Morgan calls to tell me Scarlett left her place. It’s dark out. It’s getting late. Where the hell did she go? The last place she’d go would be her apartment. I don’t even bother going around there.

I park in front of my apartment hoping to God she would come here, hoping she will come to me. I get out, and that’s when I see her.

It’s Saturday all over again.

She’s running full out with Alec right behind her. But it’s her face, the terror.

“Scarlett!” I yell so she can hear me and I start running towards her. I see my name form on her lips but I can’t hear it. She can’t breathe.

It’s as if saying my name kills something inside of her. That haunted look draws over her features and she starts to slow down – just giving up the fight.

“No, Alec, back off,” I scream, when he goes for her, but he’s already on her, wrapping his arms around her.

My heart stops. I’ve never heard a sound like that before, not even when we came across that illegal dog fighting ring.

“Let go of her,” I bite the words out and grab her to me. I push at Alec and he staggers back with the force I use.

Scarlett goes limp and I pick her up, just holding her tight. “Are you fuckin’ insane!” I scream at Alec, “Chasin’ her like that? You all but scared her to death!”

I turn around and start towards my apartment with her trembling body pressed hard to mine.

“You’re okay, Scar, I have you. You’re gonna be just fine.” I keep repeating the words as I take the stairs, but the trembling’s only getting worse. Her bag is still at my place, the one she left last week. And I have some of her meds in my fridge.

Alec comes in behind me, but I leave him standing to take care of Scarlett first. I close the bedroom door behind us so she won’t see him and when I try to lie her down on the bed she starts to whimper.

“No, no, no.” her movements are weak and I need to go get her some sugar. “Don’t leave me, Wyatt! He’ll take me when you leave,” she cries, and right about there, my heart breaks.

I pick her up again and walk back out. “Alec you go report whatever you need to report. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, but you need to leave now,” I try to be calm. I try to remember that he was just doing his job.

He takes one more look at us and then leaves. I lock the door, get a coke and head over to the couch. I settle her on my lap and once I have it open I hold it to her mouth. She pulls away from the can, with a jerky motion.

“Babe, you need to drink some. You’re all pale,” I try to coax her into drinking. I don’t know how to test her blood. I don’t know how to do any of that. As soon as she’s better it’s the first thing she’s going to show me.

I bring the can back to her mouth and she doesn’t pull away. She takes a sip.

I try to remember how much she drank down at the beach, was it half a can? I let her have as much as she’s willing to take before setting it down and then I get up taking her back to the room.

She stills in my arms, until I try to put her down again. Her eyes snap open and she grabs for me, wrapping them tightly around my neck. She pulls herself up to my ear and her breaths are still raspy, rattling into her chest.

“I can’t wash him off,” she groans. “It feels like he’s cut himself into my soul. I don’t know how to get him out.”

I don’t think twice. I move us to the bathroom and turn on the water. I lower her legs to the floor so I’ll have my one arm free, and I drag my shirt off. Once it’s off and I pull her back to me she leaches on, desperately.

If I had any doubt in my mind that she needed me, it’s gone now. She was running to me. She called for me. In her darkest moment she wants me and so help me God, I’ll be there every step of the way.

~*~

The second I take hold of her shirt she starts to tremble all over again. My heart clenches, and I lean into her so I can create a bubble of just us.

“Let’s get the clothes off,” I whisper.

Her eyes are focused on my chest. I start to pull her shirt up again, watching her face, when her hands clamp over mine. She starts shaking her head.

“You’ll see,” she wheezes the words out when she tries to take another breath and I let go of her shirt and frame her face.

“Scarlett.” I try to get her to look at me, but her eyes are feverishly on my chest.

“I don’t want you to see,” she moans, between rattling breaths.

I press my mouth to hers and breathe into her. “Breathe,” I whisper. “Just breathe, babe.” She takes a breath and it whistles down her throat. “Take another,” I tell her, and I breathe with her. I take hold of her hand and press it over my heart so she can feel it beating. “You feel my heart?” I ask, and she nods slightly.

She’s so tense I’m scared she’s going to come apart, and I won’t be able to put her back together again.

I take her other hand and place it over her own heart. “Feel your heart?” I ask, and she nods again. “Feel our hearts beatin’?” I ask, and she nods. “That’s my soul, and that’s your soul, Scar.” I lift her hand from my chest. “Now look at my heart, see there’s nothing there but it beatin’ for you.” My voice starts to go hoarse but I push through because she needs to hear this. I lift her hand from her chest. “Now look at your heart,” and I wait for her to look down at her chest. It takes a couple of seconds but she finally looks down, “no cuts, Scar, only your heart. There’s nothing there but me. The other scars will heal, they’ll fade. You’re still here and that’s all that matters to me.” I place my own hand over her heart. “I just want your heart. I just want you, all of you, Scarlett.”

Her eyes drift up to mine and tears roll out of them.

“How can you want me? I’m all cuts. I’m all empty.” She sounds empty.

I feel a wave of anger hit. That fucker can be so glad he’s dead.

“You’re not all cuts. You’re Scarlett and you only feel empty because of what happened. As soon as you start healing you’ll start feelin’ better,” I say. I need to take it to the next step.

~*~

The bathroom is all steamed up and I drop my hands to her waist again.

“You’re beautiful. You’ll always be beautiful to me. I don’t care about the cuts. I’m going to take your shirt off now, okay,” I say the words real slow and I watch her face as I move my hands to the hem of her sweater.

She turns her face away from me, looking at the water. It’s a beginning. If I can make her see the cuts don’t bother me then maybe she’ll feel better. I edge her sweater up slowly, watching her face for any signs of distress, well, more than what she’s showing already.

When I reach her chest she closes her eyes. For a moment I think about leaving it, but she won’t get any better if I just leave her.

I tuck my hands in underneath and pull her arms gently through the sleeves. There is absolutely nothing sexual about what I’m doing – it’s all about showing her she’s still beautiful and that I love her.

I drag the sweater over her head and she immediately latches onto me again. This time I get the feeling she’s hiding herself so I can’t see her. I let her be for a minute before I reach for her jeans. She doesn’t look at me at all, keeping her eyes on the water. I move faster to undress us, so I can get her under the warm water.

What I saw of her when I found her was all bloody and I couldn’t watch when they cleaned her up. This is the first time I’m seeing what he did, and I struggle to keep my face neutral. I struggle and I fail. I’m glad we’re under the water. That was a good move on my part, she can’t see the tears on my face.

The cuts are all about an inch long, from her wrists up to her shoulders, all haphazardly. I bring my fingers to her left shoulder and just before I touch her she ducks into my chest, grabbing hold of my arms.

I don’t stop and I brush lightly over the first cut. She shivers under my touch. I lean down and place a kiss to the first cut. And then I move on to the next one, brushing lightly over it and then placing a kiss to it. I hold her to me while slowly repeating this process over her left arm.

When I’m done I move over to her right shoulder. She doesn’t move her face away, but keep her ear pressed to my heart, and as I start with the first cut I feel her breaths on my face. She’s breathing easier.

I haven’t told her I love her, because I’m scared. After what she told me about her parents I’m scared to death of what she’ll do if I tell her. So all I can do is show her.

~*~

I wrap a towel around her and take her to the bed. This time she lets me put her down. I only leave her long enough to get her shot from the fridge. I grab her bag and place it on the bed. I take out the little black bag her stuff is in and put in down next to her.

“You need to take your meds,” I remind her.

She opens the bag and starts the whole thing of pricking her finger to check her sugar level. It all seems fine until she reaches for the shot. She turns her back on me to take it.

I put it all away and put on the light next to the bed, it’s softer. I throw the covers back but I don’t get in, I move in behind her. The last time she was wrapped in a towel I made love to her.

Tonight is about her. Letting her know I want to touch her. Letting her know I love her, by touching her, only.

Moving in behind her seemed to be a bad idea, because her breathing starts going faster and she grabs at the towel, holding it real tight to her chest. I move around her, careful not to touch her.

“Still only us here,” I say. Her eyes are glazed over with fear. It chips away at me to know she still hears him. “You gonna lie down?” I ask.

She glances at the pillow really fast, then looks back to me. I hold the cover up for her to move in under, before I slide in after her. She’s still clutching the towel but I reach for it anyway. I take her one hand first and bring it to my mouth, placing a kiss against her fingers I leave her hand there and reach for the other. I kiss that one too and place it next to her.

She’s staring at some spot on the ceiling when I tug the towel open. I do it really slow so she has time to adjust. I slip my hand in so I can nudge the one half away from her, exposing half of her.

She turns her head away from me and there’s something about the look on her face that makes me stop. I’ve read the report, over and over.

“Babe,” I whisper, but she won’t look at me. “Scarlett,” I say a little louder, and my heart starts to pound in my chest. “Will you tell me what happened? I’ve read what you put down in the report. I know what I saw.” I get a feeling she didn’t put everything down. I hope to God it’s all in the report. “Tell me what you didn’t put in,” I take a shot in the dark, and I hit the mark.

The report only states how he was waiting for her, how she could hear me, and then she came too in a room. It only states that he cut her and what he said to her, and then he raped her.

She stares off, and I’m not sure what she sees. I lie down beside her and pull her to me, she comes lifelessly.

“His hands are cold,” she starts, and her voice has a disturbing tone to it. “His breath sticks to me and he says my name as if he’s eating it.” She takes a slow breath and then her voice sounds eerie, “Scarlett.”

She makes a sound deep in her throat, almost like a growl, like the one she made when Alec took hold of her – the one no human should make.

“Only lonely, so tell me babe, how much pain can you take before your heart breaks?” she whispers the words I heard playing when I got to her. “He said he had to cut the pain out so he could fill me with his love. His hands are cold. The knife is cold.” Her voice goes softer and softer, until she’s whispering. I swallow and fight to keep my emotions together. She needs me to be strong. “Pain is hot.” Her brow creases and I can see she’s thinking real hard. “I started to pass out, it was like drifting between heaven and hell. As soon as I reached heaven, his cold hands would wake me, bringing me back to hell. Now I’m stuck in some wasteland and it feels like I’m just wasting away.”

She goes silent, just staring.

“Scarlett,” I say and I place my hand over her heart. “Put your hand over mine.” She does and I’m relieved, it means she’s still here with me. “How does it feel?”

“Warm,” she answers.

“Now you take my hand and you replace his touch with my warm one,” I say and I lean in closer, letting a breath out just beneath her ear.

“Wyatt,” she whispers my name, and it sounds like a prayer.

Her hand cramps around mine and at first I think she’s not going to do it, but then she starts. She doesn’t lift my hand up to move it to her arms. She doesn’t move it to her neck either.

I stop breathing.

She slowly starts moving my hand down, and the further she moves it over her chest, the harder her grip becomes. I suck in a breath when we slip in under the towel and over her breast.

I wish I had the chance to kill him.

She moves my hand over her chest and abdomen, and I’m grateful for that. She trusts me. I’m grateful that she wants my touch. Her hold on my hand is still hard, desperate, when I start trailing kisses along her throat. I move down over her chest and I keep touching her, with her hand on top of mine. When I reach her abdomen she stiffens under me.