The Devastatingly Beautiful Series

by M Dauphin

  Once I’m calm enough and the attack gone, I look around. I immediately recognize the man sitting across from me, grinning from ear to ear. The bastard that shot me. I don’t think I will ever forget his face. It’s etched in my memory permanently. Just like the events of that night.

  ****

  Brian and I had just finished putting the finishing touches on Alice’s room. It was going to be so cute with little red and pink ladybugs everywhere. His mom was insistent that we had lace everywhere, but I can’t stand it so we met in the middle with a lace crib skirt that matched the theme of the room. It would have been her first time being a grandma and she wanted to be as involved as ever. It’d been such a long day and my feet were starting to swell. All I wanted to do was sit down and put my feet up. Brian was making dinner, thank the lord! I couldn’t stand to be on those monster feet much longer.

  People say pregnancy causes weird cravings and they are right. I’d been craving steak and fries. At least it wasn’t pickles and ice cream. Steak is delicious!

  The smell of dinner being finished up was making my stomach growl even more. With the extra movement from our little soccer player it felt like my stomach was doing flip flops. At about 15 weeks I’d been able to feel her flipping around in there, but she became so big that she was running out of room. My doctor thought I’d make it to my due date, but wasn’t so sure.

  The doorbell rang and Brian called out for me to get it. I begrudgingly got up from my spot on the couch and wobbled over to the door, sighing as I opened it to one of Brian’s coworkers.

  “Oh hey, Mark. Brian’s in the kitchen.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  It’s then that I noticed the two men behind him with guns pointed at me.

  ***

  I get jolted out of my flashback when the back of the van opens up. Looking around, I see Brian glaring at me.

  “Dammit, Mol, you just have to be weak, don’t you?” he growls.

  Brian instructs the other man, the one I remember from that night, to take me inside. He grabs me by the arm so hard that I will definitely have marks, and he pulls me out of the van. The alley is covered and I can’t tell where we are. I stumble inside, where I get quickly dispensed into a totally empty room. I have to pee. I can’t believe that’s the first thing on my mind, but I’m about to piss myself if I can’t go. My hands are still tied, though, and I don’t see a bathroom anywhere.

  “Brian?!” I yell. I keep yelling until someone opens the door to the cave I’ve been thrown in.

  “I need to pee,” I say, not taking my eyes off of his.

  He curses and grabs my other arm. I’m going to be so bruised after this, asshole! He pulls me down the hallway and dumps me in the bathroom. He cuts the ties around my wrists. As he does so the knife catches my right arm and slices deep. It fucking hurt and I instinctively haul around to punch him. The look in his eyes stops me cold, though. He meant to do it. Of course.

  “Oops,” he deadpans before slamming the door.

  Inside the bathroom, I rinse my arm and wrap it with toilet paper to try to get the bleeding to stop. My adrenaline must be racing because it doesn’t really hurt, but it is so deep it won’t stop bleeding. For what feels like hours, I stand there applying pressure to my arm, trying to get the bleeding to at least slow down. My head starts to swim with everything that’s gone on these last few days. How did I get into this mess? Why can’t things just be normal in my life? I married a man who obviously wasn’t telling the truth about anything, but that was years ago. Lifetimes ago. Why can’t they just leave me be in my small town halfway across the country? Sighing, I change the toilet paper wrapped around my arm, tossing the blood soaked piece in the trash. After relieving myself, I open the door to a very menacing looking man. Re-tying my hands behind my back, the zip ties cut into my skin. Asshole. He shoves me to walk, but we don’t walk back to the cave. He takes me past it and into another room. Unsurprisingly Brian is waiting for me with a drink in one hand and the other on the table, waiting for me I assume.

  “Molly,” he states, like this is a normal meeting. “We need to have a little chat.”

  “I don’t have any words for you, Brian. Or is that really your name?” I’m not playing his games.

  “You can call me Brian if you wish. People around here call me ‘boss man’ though. See, I’ve got a lot of people looking after things.”

  I glare at him, waiting. He is so full of himself. What happened to the man I married?

  “You need to tell me where the money is, Molly.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Going to be difficult, huh? I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case, but as you wish.”

  He nods and a man comes out of the corner. He is currently wielding a pair of scissors, but I know there has to be more. This is it. It’s my death by torture for unknowingly being married to an evil man. He walks over and cuts the ties around my wrist. Instinct kicks in. I can’t die. I have to find Tatum and tell him how I feel. I start throwing punches and kicks, trying to stop the man from doing his job. It’s a useless battle, however, as he had a weapon and was easily 50 pounds heavier than I. He stabs my left arm in his attempt to grab my flailing body parts. Dammit that hurt! Wincing from the pain gave him just enough time to grab my arms with one hand and hold a knife to my throat. When the hell did he get that?

  “Why, Brian? Why are you doing this? Why did you do what you did? I don’t understand any of this!” I scream. I’m becoming hysterical and don’t care. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, or why he’s still alive, or why my baby had to die, but he got to live.

  “If he releases you, will you behave?” The low growl that comes out of him silences my panic. He’s pissed.

  I nod.

  Brian tells the man to let me go and waves me over to the chair. I really want to take a drink from the glass that was waiting for me, but I don’t trust him. He notices my hesitation and grabs the glass, taking a sip and swallowing, showing me it’s just plain water.

  “I guess you do have questions, don’t you? Where to start… hmm.” He sits, staring at me. I wait patiently, all the while both of my arms are throbbing from the slices on them and my shirt is slowly being covered in blood. They must have hit a vein because I’m not sure I’m supposed to be bleeding this much. God, I’m getting dizzy.

  “So you see, I never actually worked for a metal company. You married me when I was just beginning in this trade and by the time I was fully in, you were so naïve that I didn’t have to tell you any different. You wanted your business and a baby. Everyone knew it. You were content so I didn’t stir the pot.”

  I sit perfectly still, listening to his words, but not really processing them. Things start to blur after that. I hear about the deal that went south, the money that went missing and blamed on Brian. He gleefully tells me he was behind the missing money the whole time and was going to use it to buy us a bigger house in a better area. Brian knew what was going to happen, though, when his boss at the time found out. He didn’t know when, but he knew once they found out about the missing load they would come after us. He knew and he didn’t do anything about it. He could have taken us out of the area. He could have went to the cops, but no. He stayed and watched his baby be killed. Then to top off everything, he made his wife believe he was murdered as well, just to get a little bit of money back and start over.

  He stays very still, not taking his eyes off of mine. I know he is in there somewhere. I will never forgive him for what he did, but the man in front of me isn’t the man I married. They only shot him because he freaked when I was shot and tried attacking the men. Apparently he had connections in the hospital that helped him fake his death so he could get back at the leader. Scary how deep his ties run in this area. About a year after the incident he was able to take down the top man of the operation and take over as the boss under a new persona. He now is on a mission to find the missing money and make everyone involved in what happened pay. He sa
id he had the money all packed away and hidden from the rest of the gang, only him and one other person knew about it and that guy died about a month after Brian got out of the hospital. When he finally got back around to getting it, the money was gone. He’s been searching for it ever since.

  It’s then that I throw up on him. I can’t take any more. So much of my life that I thought was everything I wanted is a lie. The thought that he is the reason those men killed my baby make me so sick I puke… right on Brian’s legs.

  Apparently puking on the ‘boss man’s’ legs is a bad idea. Honestly, I didn’t really have a choice. It had to go somewhere. Immediately he grabs my arm right on my wound and gets in my face.

  It’s at this point that I should be scared. He looks menacing and all I can think about is why I married him in the first place. His hair is balding at the ripe age of 30. He doesn’t have a tight jawline, nor does he have any of the muscles that I have come to love in Tatum.

  Growling, he gets in my face. “You little weak bitch. I should have finished you when I had the chance! I hate you for letting her die. It took you three days to fucking wake up, and by the time you did she was already dead and I couldn’t stand to look at you. You have always been worthless.” He throws me down, hard, onto the ground. Between my bruising upper arms and cuts on both forearms, I don’t have much of a chance in catching myself and I fall face down onto the hard floor. Fuck that hurt.

  ****

  I must have hit my head hard, because next thing in know, I’m being thrown out of a van in my old front yard. Jesus, these men don’t know how to do anything graceful. Slowly, I get up and make my way to the door. How I’m still standing at this point is beyond me. I can feel my pulse in both of my arms, and they’re both starting to hurt pretty badly. I need to get inside and get them clean, maybe take some aspirin. Jesus this is all so fucked up.

  The door is unlocked so I walk in and freeze.

  He stayed. For me.

  15

  Tatum

  She just stands there, not moving and staring at me, eyes wide, like she’s asking me to make it all better, but I don’t know how. I see so much blood and I hope to GOD it isn’t hers, but the way she stands makes me think that it is. I slowly walk towards her, not knowing if I will scare her or not. Just as I get within arm’s reach, she collapses. I react just fast enough to catch her on her way down. We sink to the floor, sobs wracking her body. I hold her tight, listening to her cry.

  After what seems to be an eternity, she speaks to me.

  “It was Brian. All along it was him.”

  I don’t talk. I need answers, but right now she needs to get cleaned up and possibly see a doctor. “Shh, don’t worry about that. You are alive. That’s all that matters.” And it is. She’s alive and I can breathe again.

  Picking her up into my arms, she winces when I press her arm to my body. I make a mental note to check each and every place on her body for marks from those assholes.

  We get to the bathroom and I make a move to leave her so she can have some privacy to get undressed, but her voice stops me.

  “Please don’t go,” she whispers as she looks down.

  Instead, I nod and stand there, watching her struggle to get out of her clothes. I end up helping her out of her shirt and pants, noting the bruises and scrapes along the way. The worst part is her left arm, where she was stabbed. The right arm looks like it has stopped bleeding, but the left hasn’t closed up and is still dripping blood. I know she needs to see a doctor, but right now I need her here with me more than anything. It may be selfish, but I thought I lost her. We need a little time before reality hits again.

  Once the water is warm, we move into the shower. Not able to use her arms for much due to the cuts and bruises, I grab the soap and start cleaning her back first. What would normally be something sensual and erotic as hell has me plotting the dismemberment of each of those fuckers that did this to her. Knife scrapes, stab wounds, a black eye, bruises all over her arms. The only thing that keeps me from going over the edge is the fact that there are no bruises from her waist down. She has some nasty bruising starting on her abdomen, though. My god, she has been through hell today and yet she is still standing in front of me, holding herself up.

  When I turn her, she instinctively moves her arms around her abdomen, trying to hide the obvious scar from so many years ago. I pause, looking her in the eyes.

  “You have nothing to hide, Molly,” I whisper. “You are the most beautiful person I know. Inside and out. Everyone has flaws, but that is what makes you perfect. Your body tells me a story of how strong you are and how much you have lived through. It makes you you. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  Her eyes start to glisten again and I do the only thing I know to do. I kiss her. I kiss her like her life depends on it. She stands there, not moving her arms, not moving closer. A little piece of my heart breaks for her. I need my Molly back, and dammit I’ll do anything it takes to get her.

  After her shower, Molly lays down on the bed. We bandaged up her arm as she is refusing to go to the hospital. After a battle of the wills, I won and she agreed to lay down if I did with her. I lay with her until she falls asleep. It hurts me that she is so closed off, I just want to make everything better for her.

  I hear my phone buzzing on the bathroom sink so I rush over as quiet as I can to answer it. Before I can get a word out, I hear his voice.

  “Consider this a warning, Nate. Keep the fuck out of our business and we won’t have any other problems.”

  The call ends. That motherfucker. Yea right I’m going to stay away. He just put a target on his ugly ass, balding head!

  I call the first person that comes to mind.

  “Son, any news?”

  “Yea, she’s home.” Home. Why did I use those words? It felt… right. That’s why. “They did a number on her. Knife wounds, bruises. There was so much blood.”

  “I am glad to hear she is home. I have my men on their way up there right now to help you out. Whatever you need, I am just a phone call away.”

  “Thanks, and listen. He knows me. He knows of our family and how I’m involved in this now. I just got a call from him telling me to stay the fuck away. Naturally, as you know, that makes me want to finish this once and for all. He knows about everything, or so he says.”

  The line is silent for a moment. “Well then, let’s just get them before they get us, right? And before you get too far into this, son, you need to tell her. Everything.”

  “I know. I will. Thank you, dad,” I say, without even blinking at the term.

  The call ends and I walk back into the bedroom. She is still asleep soundly, curled up in the blankets. I check on her arm as best I can, then make a few calls. If she won’t go see a doctor, I will just have to bring one to her.

  Molly

  Everything hurts. I don’t even want to open my eyes for a fear that last night was a dream. If I’m still in that hellhole, I might end it myself. I lay here for a minute, taking in the aches and pains. Apparently I’m pretty beat up. I can’t make out where one pain starts and the others begin. I know both of my arms are down for the count, which really sucks for my photography. Looks like I’ll be taking more time off than I thought.

  Finally getting enough courage to open my eyes, I do so and immediately regret it. The light coming in from the window sends shooting pains all the way to the back of my head.

  Well at least it wasn’t a dream last night.

  Asleep in the chair next to my bed is Tatum. Wearing a pair of running shorts and a white t shirt he looks just as handsome in his sleep as he does wide awake. I still am in awe that he stayed for me. We have a long road ahead of us and I pray that he stays with me through it all.

  I move to sit up and remember the bruises on my stomach and cuts on my arms. Every part of my body hurts so I give in and lay there awake, unable to even help myself to sit up. I hate this feeling of helplessness. It brings me back to another time in my life when I coul
dn’t use my abdomen to do anything for weeks.

  ***

  The last thing I remembered was answering the door. Why couldn’t I move? And why did I feel so wet? I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t, it was too hard. I heard noises, loud ones, but I didn’t know what was happening. I was so tired.

  The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital room. I heard the monitors beeping and people quietly talking. I heard someone crying; not just any type of crying, the type you reserve for the truly tragic moments. Opening my eyes, I saw my mom and dad standing in the room talking to the doctor. There were a few other nurses moving around me. One noticed I was up and she got the doctor’s attention.

  It was then that I heard the news. It was then that my life changed forever. I would never forget the damn heart rate monitors and how loud and fast they got. That noise used to stay in my head until I fell asleep at night.

  As if losing my husband and child in one night wasn’t enough, I had a major wound on my stomach. One that I was told would unfortunately scar. The bullet actually went in one side of my stomach and out the other. I couldn’t use my stomach muscles for weeks, which meant having to be in the care of someone else for that entire time. I hated the feeling of depending on someone and vowed never again to feel that way.

  ***

  I wake up from my dream sobbing, harder than I’ve ever woke up from a dream before. Tatum’s arms are around me and I start to calm immediately, but my body’s still shaking from the flashback. The flashback that felt so real, so in the moment that I didn’t even know I was dreaming.

  “Shhh, Molly, it’s ok. I’m here. They can’t get you anymore,” he’s whispering in my hair, kissing my head and holding me tight. I know he thinks I’m crying because of the stress of everything’s that been going on, but I don’t have the strength to tell him it was a dream. A dream about the day that changed my entire life.