Johnny & I : The Island

by Daria M Paus

  "Let her go." He sounded exhausted, and the look he gave me was filled with sadness. "She hasn't done anything to you." I could see the pain he was trying to hold back. I hadn't known him for long, but it was those little signs I’d learned to recognize. How his eyes became shinier, how his lips pressed together a little bit tighter, or how his jawline seemed even more well-defined with the tension of biting back emotions.

  "Neither had Nancy, but that didn't stop you," Garrett said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  Hearing her name, Johnny's eyes widened and he finally understood.

  He knew as well as I did that neither of the creeps would believe him, but he said it anyway. "It's all lies, I didn't do a goddamn thing to her."

  They both snorted. "Fucking liar." I saw Garett tighten the hold of the knife before I heard Johnny hiss. A thin line of red appeared on his throat.

  "Say it! Say what you did."

  “No.”

  "Just fucking say it."

  "Fuck off," Johnny growled. "I did nothing wrong.”

  I wanted to help him, to bring my opinion into the mix, but it wouldn't help. They’d think I was taking his side, which of course I was. But unlike them, I knew Johnny was telling the truth.

  Garrett leaned in and growled in Johnny's ear. “She did the right thing, taking it to the press. The world deserves to know what a piece of shit you are."

  Johnny flinched, as if the words hurt him physically. Then he closed his eyes, and I could see his chest rise and fall from deep breaths. When he opened them again, that blank look I’d seen on his face when I'd arrived, was back.

  No, I mentally begged. Don't give up.

  "What do you want from me?" The defeat in his voice made me want to cry.

  A sick grin appeared on Garrett's face. "I want you to admit what you did to my girl, and then I'm gonna do the same to yours," he said. Garrett laughed, satisfied to see the shock written on Johnny's face.

  I met his eyes as he looked back at me, and I could see the panic in them just as clear as he must’ve seen it in mine. He looked away and I was sure he blamed himself for what was happening to me.

  "She made it all up," Johnny tried again.

  "That's not what she said."

  "The bitch is fucking lying.”

  A gasp flew from my mouth seconds before the fist slammed into Johnny's jaw. I closed my eyes, as if not seeing it would make it less real.

  "Let her go.” Johnny said. "Do whatever you want with me, just—"

  My eyes flew open. I stared at him.

  “Not her, please,” he begged. "She has nothing to do with this."

  Garrett laughed.

  "No," I breathed. "Johnny!”

  He looked at me, silently shaking his head.

  "No!" I yelled. "I have!” I wasn't sure where I was going with this, but I couldn't stand the fact that he seemed to be sacrificing his own life—to save mine.

  "Bree." His voice was just a whisper. "Get out of here, first chance you get."

  Before I had time to react, the creep hit him again and he staggered, falling against the wall. I screamed.

  "Don't try to be some fucking hero."

  "He didn't do it," I yelled. It was pointless, but I couldn't stay silent.

  Garrett was in my face in a flash, pinching my jaw between two dirty fingers. "If you don't shut your mouth,” he growled. “I’ll fuck you and make him watch."

  I cringed, fighting back tears.

  "Get away from her." Johnny inched toward me.

  Garrett let go of me and pointed the knife at Johnny, who stopped, slowly backing away from him again. My eyes flickered to the fireplace and the tools next to it, and the next time Johnny looked my way, I tried to gesture with my eyes toward the iron. But before he had a chance to even begin to understand what I was asking of him, Garrett snapped. “You can have every fucking girl you want." He stabbed the air as he spoke. "Why would—"

  "I didn't touch your fucking whore." Johnny growled, and my eyes widened.

  “Son of a bitch." Garrett exploded in rage, grabbing Johnny by the throat, he threw him against the wall. In the same liquid movement, he shoved the knife up against his chest and I screamed. Blood began to seep through his white shirt.

  My mouth hung open in shock. I could barely breathe. All I could do was stare at the blood, lightheaded from the sudden bolt of fear that had shot through me. I managed to tear my eyes from the bloodstain to look at his face. He looked dazed. His skin ashen and mouth slightly opened from what I could only assume was the shock.

  Garrett’s face was so close to Johnny's he could have kissed him, and every shout coming from him made Johnny flinch.

  "You beat her and you raped her, fucking admit it, or I'll kill you right now."

  "Do it," Johnny said. "Just fucking end it."

  I heard myself scream. No! I kept mumbling frantically. No no no. I didn't realize I was crying until my vision blurred. It was what he’d wanted. But I couldn't help but hope that our time together had made him rethink and what he was saying now was just an act. But it didn't matter. Act or not, that knife was seconds away from going into his chest. He wouldn't survive that, especially not when we were stranded far away from civilization.

  "Please," I cried. "Don't." I wasn't sure who I was pleading with, but when my eyes locked on Johnny, I knew. He was frightened. Breaths coming in short gasps, head leaned back against the wall, and eyes closed in what could only be a silent prayer to spare his life.

  "You think you're a goddamn God, don't you? Every girl's dream. You're nothing, not even Nancy wanted you." Garrett continued to shout and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he’d snap.

  My arms ached and my pulse throbbed in my temples. I kicked at Sean’s legs, but the only reward was a string of curses and rotten breaths on my neck. I began to scream, begging him, and he shut me up with his dirty hand against my mouth. I bit down on the hand and didn't let go. He screamed. The hand holding both of mine behind my back suddenly let go as it moved to pry my teeth off of his damaged hand. For a few seconds I didn't know what to do with my newfound freedom—then I ran.

  I grabbed the fire-iron and charged toward Garrett, swinging it against his skull. It landed with a sickening crack, and the knife hit the floor seconds before his body did.

  Before I had time to check on Johnny, Sean closed in on me, his bleeding hand in a tight grip, and his face a mask of anger.

  I tightened the hold of the iron, using it as a sword to shield myself.

  "Don't come any closer," I warned. "Stay where you are!" My voice was on the verge of breaking, but I didn't care.

  “Fucking bitch." He reached out a bloodied hand to snatch the iron from my grip. I was faster, and as his arm came toward me, I slammed the iron down on it. I’d hoped to break the damn thing, but judging from his growls, I hadn't succeeded. All I’d done was make him angrier.

  He charged toward me, and I swung the iron in blind panic. He grabbed it and threw it aside. His body crashed into mine and I fell backward from the impact. He took the opportunity to get down on top of me, pressing me to the floor, and I knew I wasn’t going to get away.

  "Now you're gonna do as I tell you, girl."

  My whole body ached as I tried in vain to suck in a few deep breaths. He pressed those disgustingly rough lips against mine again and I wanted to scream. One hand slid up my thigh and nausea rose in my throat.

  Then the body on top of me went limp, crushing me with its massive weight. I didn't understand what had happened until the dead weight rolled off of me and I saw Johnny's bruised face looking down at me. I stared at him for a long time before finally regaining the ability to move. I threw myself into Johnny's arms, but pulled away just as fast.

  "Are you ok?" I didn't wait for the reply and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. My fingers trembled so bad I couldn't open them and in frustration, I tore it open instead.

  My hand brushed the blood away and he winced. The wound filled up again. I
repeated the movement, but the outcome was the same. It didn't stop.

  "This isn’t good.”

  “It’s fine.”

  "Give me your shirt," I said. His eyes widened in surprise but did as he was told. I snatched the thing from his hand, rolling it up, then pressed the once white fabric to the wound and he flinched.

  "Don't," I snapped. "Be still." I pressed harder and he let out a sharp hiss, followed by a string of curses.

  “Sorry."

  His voice trembled as he whispered, “Just do it."

  “Hold it,” I ordered, and he obeyed. “Harder, you have to stop the bleedin’.”

  I let my eyes travel over the rest of him, cringing at the sight of the bruises on both face and belly. "Shit," I whispered, reaching out to wipe the trail of blood from a split lip. "How are you doin'?"

  “Never been better.”

  I was about to speak when he gestured with a hand, and my eyes followed.

  Shit. The creeps were still lying there, and they could wake up any second.

  “What do we do?”

  “Uh . . .” He seemed so confused, I regretted asking, but I knew we had to do something fast. If they woke up, our chances of getting out of this house alive were slim.

  “Johnny?” I took his hand, squeezing it. “Tell me what to do.”

  He stared at me for what felt like an eternity, and the fear bubbled up inside of me stronger again.

  “We could tie them up and lock them into the basement, I guess." The suggestion would’ve been funny if the situation hadn't been so crazy, so the amusement that flashed across my lips never got a chance to manifest. I nodded, not even considering any other option.

  "Let's do it." I got to my feet, holding out a hand for Johnny, who took it and managed to get up on his feet as well.

  For a moment I stood there, studying him as he stared down at the men at our feet. His hand holding the rolled up shirt in place trembled slightly and his face was paler than ever. Little drops of sweat had already begun to form on his forehead.

  I grabbed his arms. “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he repeated. “I’ll be fine, it only hurts when I move.”

  Not seeing the logic in that, I replied, “That’s why you should sit . . . I can take care of them.” I could, couldn't I? How hard could it be? They needed to be tied up and dragged downstairs to the basement, wherever that was. My expression fell. Maybe it wouldn't be as easy as I’d hoped, but somehow it would be manageable. It had to be, I couldn't let Johnny hurt himself out of stubbornness. By the looks of him, I was afraid he was going to pass out any second. Despite his best efforts to look unaffected, it was clear he was struggling to even stay conscious.

  I glanced down at the creeps. They were huge in comparison to my small form. I wouldn't even be able to move them, let alone drag them away to God knows where without waking them. I looked back up at Johnny and he must’ve seen the realization in my eyes.

  He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace of pain. “I can do it.”

  I nodded, not at all liking what he was doing to himself, but knowing I needed his help, I didn’t protest.

  18

  Blood, sweat & bruises

  I caught the rope he tossed my way and sprang into action.

  When the creeps’ hands were tied, I breathed a sigh of relief. Even if they'd wake up, we'd have the advantage; but I dreaded hearing their voices again. Just looking at them was enough to make me want to vomit.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  "Let's get them the fuck out of here." Johnny’s voice was weak, and I tried to not think of it. He bent down to grab Garrett’s outstretched arms, and the stifled cry of pain made my heart leap and my pulse race. I was at his side in a heartbeat.

  My hands were on him as he sunk to his knees. "What happened?" My voice trembled. "Johnny?"

  Shallow gasps for air was his only reply, and it made me worry more.

  Then, after what felt like an eternity of uncertainty, he shifted and looked at me.

  The smile he managed to produce was 100% fake, but he still made it back to his feet.

  "Please don’t.” I grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from repeating the movement. "I can take it from here."

  He shook his head, took a deep breath, then bent down and grabbed Garrett's tied hands and started to drag the motionless body down the corridor.

  For a few seconds, I could only stare. He didn't make a sound, but the way he looked spoke for itself.

  My eyes brimmed with tears as I watched him struggle. I'd fallen off horses; had my breath knocked out of me from the landing. I’d twisted my ankles and wrists. I’d scraped my knees like any other kid, but other than that, I'd been lucky.

  Watching Johnny fearlessly pushing himself to a point of inevitable collapse, I was sure it wasn't the first time he'd taken a beating like this. That didn't change the fact that what he was doing to himself broke my heart. I was sure he was still functioning on the last breath of pure adrenalin.

  Sean's body felt like a lump of cement as I dragged it across the floor. The blood from the hand I’d bitten was now smeared across his face, and his blond hair was striped with blood. My jaw throbbed from the blow it had taken, and the taste of blood never seemed to leave my mouth no matter how many times I tried to swallow it down.

  Halfway down the corridor, Sean started to move. First, it was just a twitch of his hand, but the small movement was enough to send a chill down my spine and kick my pulse into overdrive. He let out a grunt, his head rolling as I tried to move faster. The sound of a door slamming shut registered in my mind. Johnny had locked Garrett away.

  "What the fuck is this?” Sean’s legs moved, his eyes shot open—and locked onto my face.

  The shock of staring into those eyes made me let go of him, and the brief moment was enough for him to roll away. He struggled to his feet, fell down, but tried again. This time he succeeded and once he was back on his feet, he ran.

  My mind reeled. I had to stop him, but how? I had no weapon, nothing that I could beat him down with. The sleek walls and the marble floor offered no solution. Do something, the little voice in my mind yelled. Don't let him get away. If he did, this hell would never be over. He would be out there lurking, ready to strike the moment we let our guards down. If he got away—we were dead.

  The few seconds of hesitation gave him a lead. I charged after him, catching up before he reached the front door. Without thinking, I threw myself on him. The impact made him stumble, and when he fell, he dragged me down with him. Locked in a whirlwind of curses and shouts, I hadn’t noticed Johnny's presence until I heard his voice.

  Like a snake clinging to a thrashing victim, I held on. Despite the handicap of having his hands tied behind his back, I didn't stand a chance against his strength. He managed to wriggle out of my grip, and as he flipped us over, my head slammed onto the floor. For a few seconds everything stopped.

  Total stillness.

  Silence.

  Then, as if someone had hit play, the chaos continued. My mind spun and the room spun around me. The scene in front of me drifted in and out of focus.

  Sean rolling away from me.

  Johnny's arms reaching for him.

  One of his fists slamming into Sean's skull.

  Sean's growls.

  A swift flick of his legs.

  Johnny falling.

  Sean getting up.

  Finally, my vision cleared and the spinning slowed down. I scrambled to my feet, but Sean was gone before I reached the door. Collapsing next to Johnny on the floor, I struggled to catch my breath.

  He reached for me. "Are you alright?"

  I nodded, fighting the panic that started to build inside of me. Nausea rose in my throat and the room continued to sway and spin as my body broke into a cold sweat. I didn't know what was wrong but with every passing second, the fear got a stronger grip on me.

  "Bree?"
>
  I couldn't focus.

  "Listen to me." Johnny’s hand cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I tried to focus on his face.

  "Take a deep breath," he said. "You're ok. It's ok."

  Somewhere in the back of my mind I was amazed how he could be so calm. How he could sit there and pretend everything was fine when we both hung by very thin threads. How he could seem so unaffected when he was struggling to stay conscious.

  "It's ok," he repeated. "We'll be fine."

  Tears welled up in my eyes. "We’re not fine," I cried. "I don't feel fine."

  He pulled me toward him, whispering soothing nonsense into my neck, and for a brief second the rest of the world melted away.

  He pulled me to my feet all too soon, holding me at arm’s length as he studied me.

  "We will get that son of a bitch," he said. "I'll not let him near you." His voice was just a growl. "Do you hear me?"

  I managed to nod, sucking in a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. I repeated the pattern until my heart beat in an even rhythm and I could stand up without feeling lightheaded.

  "Sorry.” I let out a sharp breath. "I don't know what happened."

  He shook his head, giving me a weak smile. "You were fucking amazing."

  My legs barely carried my weight as we stumbled back into the living room.

  Johnny collapsed onto the sofa, leaning back in a half-lying position against the pillows. I was sure the sofa had never felt more comfortable than it did right now.

  "Hey," I knelt in front of him, wincing at the sight of the blood. “Got a first aid kit around here?"

  He didn't reply. "Johnny?" I asked. "Hey!" I shook his arm but only received a low groan. I gave up, already knowing the answer.

  I came back carrying a few towels and a bottle of whiskey, finding him in the same position as I’d left him. It didn't look like he’d moved at all. My fingers brushed over his skin. The bruises had already begun to shift in all sorts of colors. But even though it looked horrible, it wasn't what I should worry about. The wound which the knife had caused was so much worse, even though it didn't look half as bad.

  Sitting on my knees, I positioned myself between his legs, trying to block any thought that wasn't related to blood or wounds. It didn't help that his bare chest was right in front of my eyes, just waiting to be touched. Seriously? The voice snapped. Just look at him. Even covered in blood, sweat, and bruises, he was breathtaking. Focus, the voice urged. What the hell is wrong with you? My inner voice won, though just barely.