Head Start (Cedar Tree #7)

by Freya Barker

  Blood roaring in my ears and red filtering my vision, I’m up and running full speed with every next scream cutting into my soul. I don’t register any sound or see anything other than the door, behind which my heart is suffering. Another scream. I don’t stop. I plow down the door and zoom in on the scene before me.

  Kendra

  I want to die.

  I’m already in hell. It can’t be any worse than this.

  The one thought I hold on to is the hope that Karly managed to make it to safety. Any thought of Neil hurts and carries sharp regret. Regret that I wasted years pushing away this unbelievable man who has made me soar from the moment he forced his way into my life. Treasured, protected, cared for and loved. My God. He makes me feel loved. There isn’t a doubt in my mind about the way he feels for me. Time gone I can never get back. I could’ve had a head start on happiness but was too much of a coward—too scared.

  It’s the chanting that first penetrates my awareness. Low, melodic and completely indecipherable. Next is a hand, trailing my body all the way around, from my toes up the side of my leg, along my ribs and down to my stretched out arm, only to return on the other side of me doing the same in reverse. I try to hold my breath, to feign sleep, but I know he’s aware I’m awake. He likes it to hurt when I can feel it. “Not long now,” he whispers. “Soon I’ll bring you to sun dance as well.”

  I barely listen to his ramblings. My body is one burning, throbbing mess and I don’t know how much more I can withstand. A vague hope of Neil finding me still lingers until he suddenly rips the tape from my mouth.

  “Sing, my angel.”

  I feel the almost familiar pain of the knife piercing my back, and I can’t hold back the involuntary screams that burst free. Once again, I’m grateful to feel myself slipping into oblivion against the backdrop of his eerie mumbles. But when I feel his body lean over mine, chest rubbing against the open wounds on my back and his hips pressing between my spread legs, I scream again.

  Neil

  Candles everywhere. Sitting on the old wine barrels that haphazardly fill the space. The dark shape of a man leaning down over one of them. And skin. The brief flash of an expanse of bared skin beneath him. Blind with something animalistic, I pull the man off, and give myself over to the darkest rage. My focus narrows like a pinpoint on the sick fuck in my hands. His face is not just one, it is many. A target for impotent fury directed at an invisible enemy responsible for brothers fallen in battle. The center of my anger for the poor innocent women who’ve fallen victim. My fists pummel into his face for the light he has taken from Kendra and for the lifetime I will spend attempting to give it back to her. I’m no longer aware of anything but my boiling blood and the pounding of my fists.

  “Enough,” a voice growls in my ear as two pairs of hands pull me back. My vision is blurred by the tears I find tracking down my face. It takes me a second to recognize that the bloody pulp I’m looking at was once a man. “We’ll take care of him. You take care of her.” I now recognize the voice to be Caleb’s and immediately turn to find Kendra. Her naked body, bloodied and spread facedown over one of the barrels, sears itself in my brain. Pulling my arms free, I’m by her side in three strides, the knife from my boot in hand, sawing at the ropes restraining her.

  “Pup.” My voice cracks as I cut the final rope and see her fingers move. My relief at the sign of life is overwhelming. “I’m here. Baby, I’m here.” I mumble incoherent words at her as I finally get a good look at her condition. The skin on her wrists is scraped open and she’s bleeding. Her right foot sticks out at an odd angle, bone showing through the skin. But the most devastating are the deep grooves carved along her spine, from her neck to the curve of her bottom. Shallow cuts, in the shape of feathers, go up the left side of her back, reaching almost to her shoulder blades. Behind me, I hear a sharp intake of breath followed by a furious curse.

  I reach for her, wanting to lift her in my arms when Mal holds me back. “Don’t move her, brother. Leave her as she is until the ambulance gets here. Just talk to her, let her hear you.”

  I sink down on my knees by her head, vaguely registering Caleb pulling his shirt over his head and covering as much of her as he can without touching her back. Her face is swollen and wet from crying and her eyes stare almost unseeingly in mine. Gently, I stroke the hair away from her face, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort in her ear.

  Not sure how long I’ve sat here, while around us more reinforcements arrive, the low curses audible as they see Kendra. I don’t care. I only care about the woman whose eyes are focused on mine.

  Focused but still completely unreadable.

  -

  “Buddy, wake up.”

  I lift my leaden eyelids to find Gus hovering over me. I’m a little disoriented when my eyes scan my surroundings and I find just familiar faces staring back at me. Seb and Arlene, Mal, Joe and Emma. Naomi is standing right behind Gus, her hand on his shoulder.

  “She’s out of surgery,” Naomi says. “She’s going to be all right.”

  The last hours start coming back to me and I can’t stop the full body shiver at the memory. Fuck. The blank look in her eyes will haunt me ’til the day I die.

  The sirens, the ambulance-ride. I almost decked one of the EMTs when he tried to stop me from getting into the ambulance with her. Luckily, Gus was there to intervene. They hadn’t been able to pry me from her side, not even when they tended to her upon our arrival in the emergency department. Those eyes stayed open, just staring at mine, and there was no way I was going to let go of that connection, albeit a thin one. Even through the prodding and prying to her ankle and her back, those eyes barely flinched. The memory almost makes me want to go back and beat the guy to shit. Again.

  Then they took her in for surgery, saying she had an open fracture that required immediate cleaning and repair. That was hours ago, before I was forced to watch her eyes disappear through the automatic doors leading to the OR. And the adrenaline I’d been doped up on earlier left a hangover of intense fatigue. Bone-tired. So wrung out that I hadn’t even protested when a nurse led me into a waiting room I’d become all too familiar with over the past few years. That’s where I must’ve crashed. Until now.

  I can’t believe I slept through all these people arriving, but here they are. Looking back at Naomi, I see her eyes are red rimmed. Kendra is her friend, her colleague. “Where is she?” I ask, finding my voice rough.

  “I couldn’t get into the OR, surgery had already started, but I waited right outside the door and walked with her as they brought her to recovery. They had to place a few pins in her ankle—the damage was quite extensive. Her back—” Naomi’s voice hitches. “They did the best they could on her back, but she’ll carry the scars for life.”

  I don’t know when the tears started rolling down my face, but Gus surreptitiously slips a tissue in my hands. I stare at it for a moment before lifting it to my face. “I want to see her,” I tell Naomi as I wipe at my eyes. “I need to see her.”

  Naomi takes a seat beside me. “And you will, just as soon as she wakes up.”

  “Jasper is picking up Elsa and driving her down. They’ll be here any minute,” Gus says, taking over. “Kendra’s sister is on the other side of the hall.”

  Karly, I’d forgotten about her. “How is she doing?” I ask with no small measure of guilt.

  “They stitched her up and are holding her at least overnight for observation. Damian is in there questioning her now.”

  My eyes snap up at this bit of news. “Now? Can’t it wait?” I surprise myself with the snap in my voice. Guess my instincts to protect Kendra automatically include her sister.

  “Easy, Neil. She wanted to talk to someone. She was en route to the hospital already when the second ambulance was called out. Arlene rode with her, and she and Emma have been looking after her. She’s aware her sister is here and offered to speak to law enforcement. Drew is handling things at the scene and Damian got here as soon as he could get away.” Gus fin
ally gets up and pats me on the back. “She’s in good hands. Damian will be gentle with her.”

  For some reason, that makes me think of the poor dog who has been locked up in my apartment the entire night. “Chaos,” I blurt out, drawing some curious looks, but Seb answers right away.

  “Mal called. Suggested we bring him to his house. Poor dog was about to explode. I swear I had no idea a dog’s bladder could hold that much,” he says with a chuckle. “He must’ve pissed for a straight five minutes before he’d let us load him into the truck. Boo gave him a good sniff down and apparently approved because when we left Kim, the two were playing tug of war. By the way, I think you’ll have a hard time getting Kim to give him back to you. She looked like she was in love.” Seb chuckles again as Mal rolls his eyes heavenward. Boo is Kim’s Great Dane and although a bit bigger, is as much of a lug as Chaos seems to be.

  “He’s Kendra’s,” I clarify. “I’m thinking she’s gonna need him.” My words instantly weigh down the room.

  “Dr. Waters?” A nurse stands in the doorway, looking at Naomi. “You asked me to let you know? She’s in three.”

  “Thanks, Amy.” Naomi smiles at her before turning to me. “Come with me.”

  I have to hold myself from barreling over her to get to the door. About fucking time. Outside of a door just down the hall, she holds me back. “She’s gonna be groggy and probably starting to feel pain. People aren’t always themselves when they wake up from anesthesia.”

  “I’m aware, Naomi, and for your information, she wasn’t exactly herself after that monster carved into her,” I say a bit too sharply, making her wince, but she doesn’t seem to take it personal and steps aside to let me by.

  A contraption over the bed with a chain elevating her right leg makes her look even smaller. The head of the bed is raised, so she is almost sitting, I guess to keep pressure off the injuries to her back. Her face is turned away from the door and angled toward the window. In the reflection, I can see her staring into the ink black night. I walk up to the bed. I know she can hear me when her shoulders draw up to her ears. Defensive mode. Leaving that space she seems to need, I stay on this side of the bed and pull up a chair. Her hand, the wrist bandaged, is lying on top of the bedding and her fingers don’t stop moving. I cover her hand with mine and lightly stroke my thumb over her skin. The sound of her voice shocks me.

  “Is he dead?” She sounds hoarse, the tone is ice cold.

  “Baby...” I manage before she turns to face me. Now her eyes aren’t empty—they are full of anger.

  “Tell me. Did you kill him?” she insists, and I drop my head against her shoulder, needing her touch.

  “I don’t know.” My voice is muffled. “I wanted to. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but rage. They stopped me. Mal. And Caleb. They pulled me off him and then I came to you.”

  Her face is blank, but with eyes holding fire, she just stares at me for a moment. “I hope you did,” she says, turning her head back to the window. “And I hope he rots in hell.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Kendra

  I hurt.

  I can feel the effects of the drugs fading and the pain invades my senses. But I won’t push the button the nurse handed me. You can self-administer, she’d said. But I want to feel the pain. I want it to overwhelm me so I have no room in my head to think of him. Instead I find myself thinking of the man sitting on the other side of the bed. Neil. He almost made me believe I could have him. Hold him. But I can’t. He’s young, God he’s still so young, he’ll find someone better suited. Someone who still believes in the possibility of a happy life. I... I can’t. I no longer believe it’s possible.

  -

  “Let’s try and get you something to eat.”

  A nurse with a gentle smile stands beside my bed when I open my eyes to her voice. I must’ve been sleeping, because it was dark again outside. I can’t even get my head around what day it is. I blink my eyes against the diffused light in the room and notice it is empty. He’s gone. Resigned, I close my eyes. “Not hungry,” I manage on a croak.

  “Nonsense,” the girl says matter-of-factly and examines the read out on the IV pump beside the bed, before turning to me with concern in her eyes. “Why haven’t you used your pump?”

  I haven’t because the pain is almost welcome. I can feel it, whereas I can’t seem to feel much else. It shields me from reality, which is much more terrifying now than the pain. As long as I have the pain to hold on to, perhaps my mind won’t break apart the way I’m afraid it will, given the chance.

  “There, I’ve given you a dose so you can eat. I’ll bring you some toast and broth in a minute. Something in your stomach will do you good,” she says as she turns toward the door.

  “Where is...?” The unfinished question slips from my lips before I can check it. Unfortunately the nurse seems to know who I’m talking about and she smiles.

  “Your young man said he’d be back. He left his number in case you needed him. Dr. Waters came in this afternoon and sent him off. Said he needed a shower, food and sleep, in that order. You’re a lucky woman; he hasn’t left your side in two days.”

  Wait, two days?

  “Two days?” I question out loud. “I’ve been out of it for two days?”

  Her face softens as she approaches the bed again. “It’s not that unusual. You were mostly drifting in and out. General anesthetic can do that to some people. So can shock. Sometimes the body and mind go on hiatus for a bit. Give you time to heal. You’ve been through considerable trauma both physically and mentally and sometimes it takes time to process that.”

  “I don’t remember...” I admit, feeling a little lost. I’ve lost two days. They’re just gone.

  “Let me get someone to sit with you while I grab you a tray,” she says before walking out. I don’t even have a chance to tell her I don’t want anyone.

  Maybe a minute later, my mother walks in. “Hey, my girl.” She bends down to give me a kiss and sits down on the chair beside the bed. “So glad both my girls are going to be okay,” she says with a sniff.

  “Karly... how’s Karly? Is she okay?” My sister. I forgot. I can’t believe I forgot. Yet another layer of guilt is added as I listen to my mother talk.

  “She’ll be right as rain, just as you will. A few stitches to close the cut on her head and she stayed one night for observation. You have wonderful friends, Kenny. We were looking for a hotel to stay here in Cortez and your friend Emma offered us her guesthouse.”

  I don’t know why it makes me cry, but it does. It makes me cry hard and suddenly those pieces I was hoping the pain would help keep together, are falling apart. I’m literally coming undone at the thought of my mother and sister sticking around. For me. I’m ashamed that my initial reaction is surprise when Mom says she and Karly are staying. I would for either of them, so why would I even question they’d do the same for me? Was I that judgmental? Or insecure? Am I a bad person? Is that why this happened to me? My head is spinning with a cesspool of emotions. Self-recrimination, guilt, regret, doubt, fear and anger. Holy schnikes, the anger. At that man and at myself. And I feel so sad. So, so very sad for those women who suffered in a way I unfortunately am now familiar with. I can’t help but think their death must’ve come as a relief when it finally did. It would’ve for me. I wished it. Round and round in my head it churns and I can feel pieces of my sanity breaking apart as hysteria creeps up. I don’t notice Mom calling for help, I just know she has when the smiling nurse from earlier walks in with Naomi. The next thing I know I’m falling, tumbling down a rabbit hole toward darkness.

  Neil

  I hated leaving Kendra, but between Naomi’s motherly concern and Damian’s incessant texts to contact him, I finally caved and left her side. For the past few days, she’s been mostly out of it, except for the few times when her eyes would open. The blank look was there again and each time she’d tell me to leave. To leave her be. Then she’d drift off again. I feel fucking helpless, sitting t
here not being able to comfort or ease her. Useless. Two days to give every memory of that night the time to become engraved in my mind. Torture for years to come. Her surgeon came in this morning to check the wounds on her back and asked me if I was sure I wanted to stay. Fuck no, I’m not sure, but I’m not leaving either. Cleaned and mostly stitched up, the sight of her back was almost worse, more gruesome, than it had been that night. With horrifying precision, he had carved the beginnings of wings in her flesh. The doctor commented that she would likely be left with substantial scarring, but that they would refer her to a good plastic surgeon. I didn’t bother responding. He must’ve thought I was or would be repulsed at the condition of her back, at least that’s what it sounded like. Nothing could be further from the truth. Oh, I’m repulsed alright, but by the butcher who was able to do this to her. There isn’t anything that would change the way I see Kendra. Not a damn thing.

  During the entire examination, Kendra only made the occasional sound of discomfort, but never quite woke up. I was glad for that. By the time the doctor left and Elsa came in with Naomi, I was wrung out. I guess that’s why I finally gave in and headed home for a quick shower and a bite at the diner.

  “How is she doing?” Arlene asks the moment I sit down at the counter. It’s quiet, being that it’s seven thirty on a Sunday night and most folks have already come and gone.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. And I don’t. Sure, physically she’ll heal, although she might be left with a slight limp, and have difficulty running. The wounds on her back will heal as well, but there will be constant reminders of the ordeal she survived and there is no way to gauge the emotional impact this all will leave behind. That’s what worries me most.

  “She’ll get through it,” Arlene says, putting her hand on my arm. “She’s strong. It’ll take some time, but she’ll get there.” Arlene would know, a victim of a brutally violent crime herself. She may not have outward scars to identify her, but she has some deep emotional ones she’s had to deal with.