Southern Heart

by Madison, Natasha

  "What the fuck?" he says, looking at the man on the floor in front of him. I look at his chest, hoping to see movement, and it rises and falls so slowly that if you aren’t focused, you would think he was dead.

  "There was a banging on the door," I start to tell him, and the tears pour out of me, and I just let them fall as the fear now leaves my body, knowing that Ethan is here. "And then…" I start to talk, but the man on the floor moans.

  "You opened the door to a stranger?" he shouts at me, and I glare at him now.

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I hiss at him, and the man holds his side. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

  "Ethan." He calls my brother’s name, and my brother’s face goes white as he bends next to him. He looks the man up and down and then focuses on the man's arms. Picking one up, he washes the dirt off him with his shirt. "Ethan." He repeats his name in almost a whisper. I’ve heard this voice before, I think to myself. I know I have, but with the thunder and the monsoon of rain coming down, I can’t focus.

  "It’s Mayson," he says, his voice frantic. My stomach drops, and Emily comes into the house with the phone at her ear. My hand goes to my mouth now as I look down at the beaten man in front of me. He is covered in dirt and blood, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he crawled here on his hands and knees. I think back to the first time I met him.

  “Chelsea.” My brother, Ethan, called my name clear across the field and I walked over without thinking twice about it. Only when I got closer did my heart speed up as I looked at the guy standing beside my brother. He was just as tall, maybe even a touch taller. He was definitely bigger than Ethan was. His arms bulged out more, his chest wider. The tattoos on his arms shining orange in the sunlight. “This,” he tells the guy next to him, “is my baby sister.”

  “Younger sister,” I corrected him. “This is Carey.” He said his name and then corrected himself, “Sorry, Mayson.”

  I smiled at this stranger in front of me, and he smiled obligatory at me. "Nice to meet you.”

  The sunglasses hid his brown eyes. My heart sped up as he took my hand in his and it felt like an electric shock ran through me, all the way to my bones. It was also the day I secretly started my crush on him.

  "It’s your dad." Emily’s eyes look around the room, seeing the vase on the floor shattered.

  "Tell him to get here and bring the men," Ethan says and looks at me. "You have to help him."

  I look at him, shocked. "Help him." I turn now and run to the bathroom, grabbing all the towels and tossing them in the sink. I turn on the water, my hands shaking as much as the leaves outside in the storm. Emily runs into the bathroom, her whole body soaked, mud all over her floor as she looks at me, and I let a sob go. I put my hand to my mouth to try to block the noise of the sobs that come. I was so scared that something was going to happen to the kids. I didn’t think of anything else but making sure the kids were okay.

  "It’s okay," she says, coming to me and hugging me. The wetness of her body soaks into my chest.

  "The kids?" I ask nervously, looking around her as I rub the tears off my face.

  "Sleeping," she says as she cups my cheek. "They're safe and don’t even know what’s going on."

  "I was so scared," I tell her. "So scared I wouldn’t be able to protect the kids. I’m so sorry, Emily. I should never have opened the door." The guilt of the kids being hurt because of me is so much more than I can say. "I would never have."

  "Chelsea," Emily says my name softly. "There is no one else in this world I trust more with my children than you."

  I swallow down the other sob that wants to rip through me. "Good," I say, grabbing the towel from the sink and wringing it in my hands. Trying to be strong at this moment, I shake my head and push away the fear I had. “I need you to get me a basin with warm water,” I tell her, “and I need a pair of scissors.” I look around, bending to open the cabinets under the sink. “Do you have a first aid kit?” I ask her, and she nods at me. “Bring it to me.” I squeeze the extra water out of the towels. Grabbing them all in my hands, I walk back into the room.

  Ethan is kneeling beside Mayson, and I kneel beside him. “I’m going to clean your face now,” I tell Mayson even though he can’t hear me, and slowly wipe his face with one of the wet towels. The mud is coming off easier than I thought. “You need stitches in your cheek.” The gash on his cheek is now leaking blood, and I apply a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding. “Hold this on his cheek,” I tell Ethan, and he puts his hand on the towel. I ignore the pain in my chest as I wipe away the dirt from his swollen eye. One towel isn’t enough to clean just his face. Emily comes in with the bucket of warm water and places it beside me, then she hands me the first aid kit. I open it and grab the gauze, pushing it on his gunshot wound. “I need more towels,” I tell her, and she gets up.

  Emily rushes out of the room and grabs another one as Ethan just looks at me in shock. "He needs stitches on his cheek and his forehead." I look down at the shirt and look up at Ethan, who nods his head at me. “He’s been shot." I look at Ethan, and my eyes go to the wound. He picks up one of Mayson’s hands, and I see the raw and bloody marks around his wrists. My eyes find the ink on his arm I’ve spent so much time studying from afar.

  Ethan lifts Mayson’s shirt, and I see the bullet wound as the squishing sound of the shirt being torn away from the wound is heard. My eyes focus on the wound. "Chelsea," Ethan says my name, and I snap into action.

  "I need my bag." I look up at Emily, who has tears rolling down her face as she watches Mayson fight for his life. She turns and runs out into the rainstorm. I grab his wrist in my hand and feel for a pulse. "It’s steady but…"

  I look up toward the open door when headlights shine into the house. The crunching of rocks sounds under tires as someone parks their truck. Two doors open and close, then I hear running but look down when I hear moaning again. I see his finger twitch.

  "What the fuck happened?" I hear from beside me and look up to see my cousin Quinn walking in with his father and our uncle Casey, and both of them are drenched. Quinn carries my black medical bag while Casey has his arm around Emily. The bag was a gift from my grandparents when I graduated and has a gold monogram of my name stitched on the side.

  "I have no idea," I start to say. "He came here, banging on the door." I open my bag and look over at Ethan. "What is the ETA on the ambulance?" Ethan ignores my eyes and turns to look at Casey.

  "No." We hear grumbling coming from Mayson, and my eyes go back down to him as he tries to shake his head from side to side.

  "If he came here," Ethan says, "then he’s running from someone."

  "If he’s running," Casey says, stepping forward, "then we need to get him the fuck out of here. Far away from here."

  Ethan nods his head and looks at me. "What can you do to make him comfortable so we can take him out of here?"

  "Take him out of here?" I open the bag and grab my stethoscope. "Are you insane? He needs a hospital. First off, he’s been shot. Then his legs need to be checked out. I don’t even know what is going on internally. He can have a head injury we don’t know about. He needs a hospital."

  "He had to have been in his right mind to drive here." Ethan looks at me, and I want to agree with him.

  "Any normal person wouldn’t be able to walk ten steps with his injuries," I say. "You guys are trained for this," I tell him. "You’re trained to shut it down and fight through everything until you get to your hub." I throw up my hand. "Or whatever it’s called."

  "Chelsea," Casey says my name, and I look up at my uncle, who now squats down in front of us. "Honey, he can’t go to the hospital. Ethan is right."

  "You are all insane." I shake my head. "I will get him as stable as I can, and then his doctor can treat him."

  Ethan looks at Casey, and the two share a look. "Honey," my uncle Casey says, and I know what is coming. But even if I know it’s coming, hearing the words makes me shake my head. "You can treat him."

&nb
sp; "Are you two crazy?" I look at them both and then up at Quinn, who is looking at me. Nothing is on his face but worry. "I can’t do this." I get up, waiting for someone else to say how fucking crazy this is. Quinn now averts his eyes, and when I look at Emily, she wrings her hands.

  Emily steps forward now. "If anyone can help him, you can." She comes to me and puts her hand in mine.

  "I’m a nurse. I am not a doctor. He might need surgery, and that is not even my specialty." I look down now as my eyes focus on the bullet wound. It’s leaking down his side to the floor, where there is a puddle of blood now. "An X-ray needs to be done to make sure I know where the bullet is lodged. We need to get him hydrated."

  "I can get anything you need," Casey says, "except the X-ray machine."

  "Bullet…" We hear from Mayson, and all eyes turn back to him as he hisses through the pain, using all of his energy as he says the next words. His eye close as he starts to talk again. But he stays alert enough to tell us everything. "Went straight through." I grab a pair of gloves from my bag. "My legs." I look down and see the seeping, soaked pant legs that I didn’t even notice. "Stabbed four times." He trails off now, and we know because his head turns to the side. My head spins when I think of his wounds and how the injuries point to his hands being tied. My eyes fly to Ethan’s. He’s looking at me, knowing what I’m going to say next.

  “This wasn’t just a five-minute thing,” I say to the whole room. "He was tortured," I whisper, looking at him. He doesn’t have a chance to answer me because two car doors slam, and everyone looks toward the front door. The rain has finally slowed.

  My father, Beau, and Ethan’s father, Jacob, run up the stairs. Both of their eyes assess the situation. My father finds my eyes right away, making sure I’m okay, and then he looks down at Mayson.

  "Did he attack you?" he asks, confused by this whole scene.

  "I’ll fill you in, Uncle Beau," Quinn says. "But first, we need to get him over to Chelsea's house."

  "My house?" I snap. "Why my house?" My heartbeat is going so fast now it echoes in my ears.

  "Now wait a second," my father snaps, stepping forward and holding up his hands to stop everyone. "We are not bringing him to her house."

  "This needs to be under the radar," Ethan says to him. "I would never ever put her in harm’s way, but we need someone who can monitor him."

  "Then hire someone." I stand and take off my gloves. "Just like Uncle Casey can get whatever I need, I’m sure you can get a doctor who can take care of him.”

  "Honey," Jacob says, looking at me. "I don’t think anyone can take care of him as well as you can. If it came down to it, there is no one I would want except you."

  "You took an oath," Ethan says, and I glare at him.

  I then say the words that shock not only everyone in this room but even me. "Get him in the truck."

  Chapter 4

  Mayson

  "Get him in the truck." I hear Chelsea's voice, and try to open my eyes, but one is sealed shut. The other one is blurry from the sweat and blood dripping off my forehead. I try to lift my hand, but nothing happens. Not even a twitch. I focus on what is going on around me. I can hear everything, and I want them to know, but I can’t communicate with them. “Someone needs to apply pressure on his bullet wound to make sure he doesn't lose anymore blood,” Chelsea says, and I hear people move all around me. “I need a belt,” she yells, “to tie around his legs to stop the blood flow until we get him back to my house!”

  "Be careful moving him," Ethan says as the men lift me, and the pain rips through me. My stab wounds in my legs feel like they are ripping open. The bullet wound in my side feels like someone lit a match and put it straight inside it. In my head, I’m roaring out in pain, but in reality, the only thing that comes out of me is a groan. "We’ve got you, Mayson," I hear Ethan say from beside me. Ethan and his family are the only ones who call me Mayson. Everyone else uses Carey, my last name, and I don't know why, but it’s only when I hear those words does my body let go. The tension leaves, and I soak into the darkness.

  "Come here, you fucking piece of shit." His voice came out in a snarl as his spit flew on my face, and he grasped my hair in his fist. "You thought you saw the last of me." He chuckled as he grabbed my chin in his hand as hard as he could, squeezing. "Hiding like a fucking coward." I looked into the eyes that I prayed I would never see again. Eyes that haunted my dreams.

  Letting my chin go, I knew pain would come next, and I was not wrong when he kicked me right in the ribs. One. Two. Three. He always went for three. My hands were tied together around a tree in the middle of the forest.

  I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but the pain, and it was just too much for him. "Oh, no, you don’t." He grabbed my hair into his fist, pulling my head back. "Not yet, you fucker." He smiled as he looked at me. "You close your eyes when I tell you to," he said, shocking me when he head-butted me.

  "We will place him on the flatbed," Chelsea says. "I’m going to ride in the back with him to make sure he’s stable." I feel myself being carried. “It’s pitch black. I need a flashlight," she tells Ethan, and I can tell she is irritated with him. I’ve been around her a total of ten times, and each time, I've learned something new about her. But I got her irritated look after ten minutes.

  "It’s a four-minute ride if we use the backroads," Jacob says as I feel the cold metal of the truck against my back.

  “Don’t let go of the pressure on his side,” Chelsea says to someone. “Don’t you fucking die on me,” I hear her whisper in my ear.

  I don’t know how long it takes, but when the truck finally stops, my stomach roils. I’m carried off the truck and then placed on the softest bed and sheets I’ve ever been on. I know that I’m going to owe her a new bed when this is all over. If I survive, that is.

  "I can see bruising on his ribs," I hear Chelsea say, and my breathing starts to come in short spurts as the pain races through me. "Of course we can’t know because I have nothing here. "

  "You can’t do anything for broken ribs anyway," Ethan says, and I can feel the glare Chelsea gives him. "What? It’s true."

  "Well, I’m assuming he didn’t puncture his lung since he isn’t choking on his own blood," she hisses out.

  "Jesus, Chels," Ethan says.

  "Is Casey back with the stuff I need?" she asks, and then I feel her hands on me. Soft and cool. "It’s becoming infected," she says, touching the gunshot wound.

  "Hey." I hear another voice, and I go on alert until I hear Ethan call his name.

  "What’s up, Quinn?" My eyes open just a sliver, and I see Quinn standing there looking like he just ran a fucking marathon and didn’t stop.

  "I got his truck taken care of," he says. "Dad has his burner phone and is going through it. We are also leaving crumbs, so if someone comes after him, we’ll know."

  I try to move my hand, and then I feel her hand go into mine. "Mayson," she says, and I turn my head as fast as I can. I see her faintly as I try to open my eyes. Her hair is piled on her head now. "It’s Chelsea." She blinks away the tears that I know are coming. "You’re safe. We have you." I squeeze her hand and then try to open my eye, and I see her blue eyes looking at me with her smile. "Hi," she says, sniffling back.

  "Water," I say in a harsh whisper, and she looks over at Ethan, who is bringing me water with a straw.

  "Take small sips," Chelsea says, and I take a small sip, my mouth dry and feels like sand is on my tongue. Must be from when I crawled through the forest.

  "Not," I start to say, "my truck." My tongue is so heavy, and my throat feels like I have cotton balls shoved down it.

  "Don’t waste your energy," Ethan says when Casey walks into the room with two bags in his hands. "We have time for that later."

  "I’m not even going to ask how you got all the stuff I asked for in less than"—Chelsea looks at her watch—"twenty-seven minutes."

  "It’s better that way," Casey says and walks over to me. "We have you covered, and you’re
in good hands."

  I nod my head, and I want to stay up talking, but I feel a prick in my arm and see Chelsea look at me. "That should relax you and hopefully put you under. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can."

  "Do your worst," I say, right before my eye closes, and I sink into the darkness. Yet I hear everything happening around me.

  "Okay, Ethan," she says softly. "I’m going to need your hands."

  "Whatever you need," he says, and I know that if I die right here, he would honor me with respect and dignity—two things I don’t think I’m worthy of and never did. I try to stay alert. Try to use the tools I found in the Army, but I can’t fight it anymore and just sink even deeper back to relive the terror of the past five days.

  "Wake up, you son of a bitch. I’m not done with you yet." He slapped my face with all his force, causing the back of my head to hit the tree. "No good for nothing. You die when I tell you it’s time to die." With shot after shot, I tasted metal in my mouth, but I shut it out. Once the blows stopped, I counted the steps, forty steps, and I knew he was sitting in my cabin. My fucking cabin. It was only when I counted to one hundred that I knew he wasn’t coming back and started to hatch a plan. My hands were tied, and I had rope burn around my wrists. I fought through it until I heard a noise. He tried to sneak up on me, but the branches snapped under his boots, and I had one second before he plunged the knife into my leg.

  I gasp out, and my eye opens. One is still sealed shut as I look around the lit room. My heart is beating so fast in my chest, and my breathing is coming out in pants. With one sweep around the room, I remember where I am. I try to lift my hand, but it’s still so heavy. I blink my eye again, trying to focus and fight off the darkness pulling me under. Ethan looks at me right away, his eyes relaying he’s got my back. "Where am I?" I mumble, trying like hell to leave my eye open.

  "Somewhere safe." Ethan comes over to me, and I try to swallow. "Chelsea is going to take care of you. All you need to do is hang in there."

  There is so much I want to tell him in case I don’t survive, so many secrets I’ve buried, but some secrets have a way of coming back and haunting us, no matter how much we try to bury them. I look into Ethan’s eyes. "Save your energy for after," he tells me. "There is time for all the answers."