“It’s never too late for you to prove everyone wrong. You don’t have to be like this. You can be … a good guy.” I’d meant the words to be encouraging, but his expression immediately shifted from friendly to furious. Mark went nuclear, and I was at ground zero.
“What are they saying about me?” he shouted. “Have you spoken to my parents?”
I shook my head, “No, Mark. I’ve never met your parents. I …”
Another hard slap stung my face, and this time I saw stars.
“Stop lying to me!”
Tears flowed freely down my cheeks with the realization that I was going to die at the hands of this monster.
Suddenly his face was an inch from mine. “How is Dunstan related to the girl?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just met up with them.”
Before I had even finished speaking, Mark reached up my dress with his right hand and dug his thumb into my upper-inner thigh. The pain was excruciating as he pressed harder and harder, grinding back and forth between muscle, bone, and tendon. My bonds pulled tight with my effort to escape the torment.
“Please stop,” I cried. “Stop! It hurts.”
He moved his hand to my brachial pressure point and repeated the action. But this time the torture was accompanied by a demanding, vengeful kiss.
I closed my eyes and tried to escape the agony. Temporary reprieve came when Mark released me and dug into his pocket. His hand emerged and the faint glow of metal shone from the item he clutched. He pushed a button, and the blade flicked open.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I begged. “You promised you would take care of me!” I could feel the acceleration of my heart as adrenaline filled my veins.
When you can’t fight and you can’t fly, what good is adrenaline? What can you do?
“Oh, honey.” Mark’s voice was strangely sympathetic. “You lied. You must be punished.” His lips brushed my trembling forehead. He held the blade to my left cheek bone and slowly drew the knife toward my chin. I screamed as it bit into my flesh.
He paused, pulled his knife out and looked thoughtfully at the small wound. “No. He should be here to see this. He needs to witness the pain he’s causing.”
My voice turned hysterical as I thought of Ashley in Mark’s hands. “No! Please! Don’t leave me. Stay with me. You promised! You said you’d take care of me!” Dying here was bad enough, but the thought being mutilated in front of Connor and Ashley was more than I could bear.
He kissed my still protesting lips. “Hush. I’ll be back soon, honey.”
And then he was gone.
I gasped for air, shaking violently. Deep down I knew I was selfish and welcomed the respite, even though it did not bode well for my companions. I had pleaded for him to stay, but in the end, I could not deny the relief that I felt when he left. I am a horrible person.
Wanting to be better, I glanced around the room. There had to be some way to free myself and help Connor and Ashley—something I could do—a way to build a bomb from bubblegum. But I couldn’t find anything. Frustrated, I growled, “Freaking MacGyver!”
Thunder boomed in the distance and lightning lit up the sky once more.
“This is not me. I am not the helpless idiot that ends up strapped to a bed.”
A shot was fired outside.
The sound was more than I could handle. I screamed out my frustration, my fear, my self-loathing, and my helplessness. I wailed until my throat was sore.
When I regained control of my emotions, clarity filtered through my mind.
When you can’t fight or fly, there’s only one thing you can do.
I prayed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PLEASE GOD, DON’T let them be dead. My eyes were squeezed shut while my lips muttered prayers. My right arm suddenly went slack. I opened my eyes and found Connor staring back at me. His expression went from concerned to furious when his glance lingered on my dress; pushed up around my hips. He quickly pulled it back down.
He thinks …
“No, Con—” I shook my head.
He grabbed a towel off the dresser and carefully wiped the blood from my face. Then he walked to the door and called out, “Ash, she’s in here.” He moved to my right foot and cut the binding.
Morning was nearing. The room had lightened enough for me to make out the worry on Ashley’s face when she rushed through the doorway. “Is she okay?” She looked up at Connor for a response.
“Me? Ash, I’m right here. You can talk to me.”
Her eyes grew round when they found my face. “Sorry, I just … sorry. Are you okay?”
My hands and feet had lost circulation, and as Connor cut the sheets, blood flowed to the numb appendages like thousands of needles stabbing into my flesh. Connor moved back down to the foot of the bed and rubbed my bare feet.
I winced, and tried not to grit my teeth. “I’m okay. What about you two? I heard a gunshot.”
“Uncle Connor shot him.” Ashley’s voice was somber, with a touch of something I couldn’t place; almost like admiration.
I squirmed my feet away from Connor’s grasp, scooted to the edge of the bed and stood. I was upright for maybe a whole second before I collapsed back onto the bed.
Connor kneeled down and kneaded my feet again.
“I can do that.” I tried to kick out of his grasp, but he ignored me, and held my legs still with little effort. His hands were warm and soothing as they massaged away the pain.
He helped me down the stairs. The first couple of steps were agonizing, but the man’s magical hands had done wonders. We found my shoes and our stolen food bag, and headed toward the house we’d been staying in.
My fists were still cut up from my previous bout with the mirror. The right side of my face was swollen from Mark’s heavy backhand. The cut on my left check stung, and leaked blood when I moved my jaw. My inner left thigh and bicep throbbed and would no doubt bare huge, purple bruises. The countless bite marks stung, my head pounded, and my whole body ached from being laid out like I was on the rack. I felt like an extra on the “Night of the Living Dead” movie set.
Everything is fine. It could have been a lot worse. Nothing happened.
Desperate to escape the concerned glances of Ashley and Connor, I fled into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. The first thing I grabbed was a toothbrush. I covered the bristles in toothpaste and vigorously scrubbed the entire inside of my mouth. Then I repeated the action three more times. My gums were bleeding by the time I was finished, but the taste of Mark lingered. I searched for mouthwash.
My face was a swollen, bleeding mess. I wet the corner of a wash cloth and started scrubbing away blood. There was peroxide in the cabinet, so I cleaned up my ear and the cut on my cheek. Had the bottle been larger, I would have stood in the tub and poured it over me.
Pulling up the hem of my dress, I examined my inner thigh. The bruise was the size of a tennis ball, and rapidly purpling.
“I hate him.” The words just tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them with my hand. No. I can’t hate him. He’s dead. My eyes watered with sorrow, guilt, anger, fear, frustration, helplessness; emotional overload was an understatement.
A quiet knock sounded on the door. Ashley walked in and interrupted my futile thoughts, as I hastily lowered my dress. Her eyes locked on mine, drifted downward, and then quickly went back to my eyes. We stared at each other as she opened and closed her mouth a few times.
Then I realized how this all must look, and what she must be thinking. “He didn’t. I mean there was no ...” I had no idea how much to reveal about an almost-rape to a twelve year old. “Look, he just gave me a really bad bruise … with his thumb.” I pulled up my dress and showed her my inner thigh.
She came closer to examine my leg. “Ouch.”
“Nothing but bruises and cuts happened.”
She blew out a breath. “I didn’t really think—”
“Yes, you did. I was tied up. I was scared it was going to happen.
”
“But you said you’d—”
“Put my knee through his genitals?” I winced, remembering the cockiness of my previous words. “He had my legs tied down. There was no way my knees were going to be of any help. I was wrong. I thought I was so strong, and I’m not. If you guys hadn’t come for me, I’d … I don’t know.”
Her face dropped. I had the sneaking suspicion she was disappointed to find out I couldn’t walk on water.
“And hey, check out this one.” I pushed up my sleeve to reveal my arm to her.
“Wow, colorful,” she said admiringly.
“Yeah, they could have been a lot worse.” I draped my arm over her shoulders. “Thanks for coming for me.”
“Uncle Connor was really worried about you. He tried to go after you without me. I had to beg him to bring me along.”
“Oh.” I chewed on my lip for a minute. “I figured you’d have to drag him behind you to save me again. Didn’t I make him regret it enough the first time?”
Ashley giggled. “No, he was pretty upset.”
“Funny,” I said. “I never expected Connor Dunstan to be the hero-type, but that’s twice now he’s saved my life.”
“Three times, actually.” She held up three small fingers.
“Hey, I had that guy with the frying pan,” I insisted. “But I guess we can give Connor points for effort.”
“Yeah.” She squeezed my hand. “Maybe he’s not all bad.”
Talking to Ashley helped greatly, but my hands were still shaking. I grabbed the brush off the counter and led the girl from the bathroom. We sat on the bed and I let down her hair, brushed out the tangles, and re-braided it. The comforting simplicity of fixing her hair did wonders to calm my nerves. By the time I finished, my breathing had steadied and my hands had almost entirely stopped trembling.
The affect on Ashley was even better. She was leaning against my leg and half asleep by the time I pulled her braid through a rubber band. She rested against me and passed out. I gently moved and lowered her to the bed.
“Pleasant dreams,” I said and kissed her forehead.
Connor entered the room. He stepped over to the bed, picked up Ashley, and moved her to the pillow, pulling the covers up over her. After briefly marveling at what a softy he was becoming, I stood and headed toward the dresser. Connor grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. His trembling arms wrapped me in an embrace that was both intrusive and comforting.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into my hair.
“No need. Not your fault.” Every inch of my body tingled in response to his proximity.
“Yes, it was. He was after me. It wasn’t your battle.”
I gave in and nestled my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around him. I could hear his heartbeat, and feel his incredible warmth. Part of me wanted to let my hands roam and explore the muscles under his shirt, but my sensible side screamed for me to be across the room from him.
Sensibility is so overrated. Feeling calm, relaxed, and safe in his arms I closed my eyes. Mark’s face greeted me behind my eyelids. Desperate to get away from the memory I pushed Connor away and took a step back.
Frustration distorted Connors features for just an instant before he mastered his emotions and his guarded, attorney guise resurfaced.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t want to hurt him, I just couldn’t be near any guy right then.
“It’s okay, I get it,” he replied.
No you don’t. “I … It isn’t you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“I don’t … he didn’t … I mean … there was no sex.” My shoulders tensed. I resented the necessity of the words, but they had to be said.
Connor visibly relaxed his shoulders. He grabbed my hand and led me to the bed where he sat with his back against the wall and gestured for me to join him. My expression was dubious as I considered his request. Connor rolled his eyes at my obvious hesitancy and said, “All I want to do is talk.”
Ashley is asleep right there. How dangerous could this be? With that sound logic in mind I sat with every intention of keeping at least six inches between us at all times. Connor sighed.
“What?” I asked.
“I won’t bite.”
My hand instinctively went to my bitten ear. The bleeding had stopped, but it was still tender. Connor pulled my hand away so he could inspect the damage. He swore then grabbed me by the waist and scooted me closer, turning my body so my back was against his torso.
I leaned against his warm, hard chest and guiltily enjoyed the comfort I found in his arms. The musky scent of metal, earth, and man that made up Connor soothed my mind. “It could have been a lot worse.”
His arms tightened around me. “Yeah, it could have.”
“His eyes were the worst part. When I looked into them, I knew he was going to kill me.” At the memory, my eyes stung, but I fought to keep the tears from falling. “And when he left, I was happy. Then I felt horrible because he was coming for you guys.”
“Shh. That’s natural. You’re not horrible. You were just afraid.” He kissed the top of my head. “It’s over now. Done. You don’t have to think about it anymore.”
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have. I slept through the next day and the night that followed. The time passed in a blur as I tossed and turned, restless and haunted by memories. Every time I opened my eyes, Connor was by my side, holding me. His breath on my cheek helped me forget about the taste of Mark’s kisses. The light pressure of his arm resting against mine erased the memory of Mark’s groping hands. I had been arrogant, believing myself superior to “weaker women” who “allowed” themselves to be beaten or raped. I had smugly thought such a thing could never happen to me. But in the end, my ability to protect myself had proven grossly inadequate. I was just as human as every other woman. Mark could have raped or killed me and I would have been powerless to stop him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE MORNING OF the second day I finally got out of bed. We ate our last warm meal from the grill—canned clam chowder—and headed on our way, atop the bicycles. The front tire of my bike was a little low, but other than that they were in great condition. We quietly rode the path around the golf course at a nice, steady pace. Despite Ashley's previous concerns, she rode just fine, smiling as the slight wind played with her hair. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still damp, and earth worms slithered across the road. Ashley ran over one and voiced how repulsive she thought worm guts were.
Connor laughed and set out to run down all the worms he could find in order to capitalize on Ashley’s disgusted reaction. It was easy to push aside the recent trauma while we enjoyed the fresh, new day. The sun crept from behind the clouds, choreographed to the chirping of the birds. Just an average family, enjoying a morning bike ride, we laughed and joked for almost a half hour before we rounded the last turn.
From the moment the clubhouse came into view, I knew something was amiss. Unexplainable but equally undeniable bad vibes seemed to roll off the siding. The building was creepy to the nth degree. Connor waved us to a stop behind a group of trees. He watched the clubhouse as we huddled close to him.
“This place gives me the creeps,” I whispered.
He nodded. “We’re gonna have to skirt around the main area. Stay on the path.” He put his foot on the pedal, preparing to take off.
“Wait,” I said. “Maybe we should ride through the grass around it?”
He shook his head. “The ground is wet and the grass is too long. These aren’t mountain bikes.”
“We could just walk them?” I really didn’t want to go as close to the building as the path would take us, but I couldn’t explain why.
Connor thought for a moment, and then shook his head again. “We ride. We have to be able to get away fast, just in case.”
In case what? I wondered. But truthfully I didn’t want to know.
He looked me over. “Where’s your gun?”
“Take the safety off.”
I did as he ordered then secured it into my waistband. Connor had been carrying the extra duffel bag of supplies over his shoulder. He wrapped the straps securely around the handlebar of his bike, freeing up his arms.
“Everyone ready?” He put his foot on the pedal and pushed off, without waiting for a response.
Ready for what?
Our bikes slowly rolled forward and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the stupid girl in some horror flick; biking toward my doom while the audience yelled at me to go the other direction. The sensation was stronger than a premonition, but it wasn’t the call.
In the stillness, we heard what sounded like someone splitting wood—only different. It was too late to turn back, so we continued our apprehensive approach. We rounded the corner of the building and people came into view. A couple lounged on chairs chatting while a man wearing an apron methodically cleaved into a corpse laid out on the table beside them. It took me a moment to process what I was seeing. The corpse the man was butchering had feet. Human feet. Comprehension hit me at the same time Ashley gasped.
Three savage faces turned toward her, like a pack of wild wolves eyeballing a rabbit.
Ashley perfected the role of frightened hare and froze in terror. Her mouth hung open; her expression a mixture of shock and disgust.
The sound of a gunshot woke me from my own stupor. The butcher went down. I looked up to see Connor aiming to take a second shot. I started to object. This wasn’t self-defense, it was murder! We didn’t know the details, and we couldn’t just walk up and start shooting people. But my protest froze on my lips as the couple sprang toward us.
“Ash, come on, we have to get out of here!” I pleaded, but she was completely immobile.
Connor fired again, taking the second man in the chest.
It all happened so fast, and before I could blink the woman was almost upon Ashley. I ran in front of her grabbing for my gun, but my hands shook and the gun slipped from my grasp. A bloody knife came straight for me.
Rescuing Liberty: Perseverance Book 1 Page 13
