by Maree, Kay
“How long has Miss Miller been missing?” Deacon jumps right on in, not beating around the bush, something I’ve always admired about him. Those sharp green eyes of his scan through the files as Jim lays down the file in his hands.
“Just over an hour.”
“Jesus,” Jim mutters, his gaze hard as he swipes a stack of papers off the table and begins flicking through them.
“Not that we don’t appreciate it, but how the fuck did you end up in our neck of the woods?” Drixen asks as I have the same thought.
“When Deacon started looking into this piece of shit, we thought you may need some extra hands.” He points towards Deacon. “So, this fucker organised a fucking tin can with wings to get our asses up here as soon as possible.” Jim chuckles, shaking his head. “This sick fuck is a real piece of work, and since our cases cross over, our Captain wanted us here to help catch this fucker.”
“He ain’t getting cuffed. This fucker is getting fitted for a fucking body bag,” I grind out.
“Fair enough.” Jim shrugs.
“My thoughts exactly,” Deacon throws in, laying crime scene photos of at least twenty people across the wooden table.
“This guy is an opportunist; all his victims have been found in abandoned shithole houses or warehouses up the coastline; except a few at service stations.
All the women were viciously raped before they were killed, and the men were tortured before being killed. This guy has a pattern and it all surrounds power and control.”
“This is all well and good, but how the fuck does this help me find my girl?” I growl, not in the mood for a fucking serial killer education class.
“Easy, brother,” Lucas says, squeezing my shoulder.
“We need a map of all the abandoned houses, farms, and so on, in the area,” Deacon says, brushing my comment off.
“Drixen,” I snap, a sense of urgency racing through me; the tick of the clock hanging on the wall over my shoulder, pounds through me.
“On it. I have a map in the car.” He jogs from the room.
“Let me make you some coffee,” Davis says, sliding up beside me, running her hand up my arm. Shaking her off, anger at this whole fucked up situation is eating through me, and Davis isn’t helping the situation.
“Davis, head back to the station.” I grind out.
“Sir?” she stammers.
“I’ll call if I need anything,” I dismiss her, knowing once I have my girl back, I’ll be dealing with Sara Davis and her inappropriate conduct. With a nod of her head, she turns and walks out of the room. No one says anything as the front door slams shut. Not two seconds later, the door opens again and in rushes Drixen with a map.
Laying it across the table, I take in the area of Wallumbilla, trying to rack my brain about where he could have taken her.
“He would want as much time with her as possible, but he wouldn’t travel far, knowing it wouldn’t have taken you long to work out she was missing,” Jim says.
“There’s the old Gellar farm, about half an hour away,” Nash says, tapping the spot on the map. Lucas grabs a marker pen from a side drawer and starts circling areas across the map that have been abandoned, or big pieces of land no one would notice someone slipping in under the cover of darkness.
“What about Tim Wilson’s old place? It’s on about two acres of land, with an old shack at the back of the property,” Lucas says, tapping the map.
“How far away is that?” Deacon asks.
“About twenty minutes from here.”
“I say we start there and make our way towards the others,” Deacon says, tapping the spot.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jim nods, rubbing his chin.
“Bring the map with us, Lucas, we need to head out,” I call over my shoulder, racing out of the house, needing to find her now. It’s been just over two hours, and I feel like every minute we stand around looking at a fucking map is a minute my girl doesn’t have.
Flicking the headlights off before making our way down a long dirt track, I look in my rear-view mirror and notice Deacon and Jim had the same idea. Using the bright moon in the sky as our only light source, we pull to the side of the dirt driveway, parking the cars behind a cluster of trees. Looking towards the old abandoned house, the windows are half boarded up but a dim glow penetrates through the open spaces. A heavy feeling soaks through me as I quietly close the driver’s side door. The scent of burning wood floats through the air. Looking towards the roof, a small trail of smoke floats through the air from the old chimney.
“This has to be the place,” I whisper, pulling the gun from the holster at my hip.
Nash and Lucas head towards the boot of my car. Flipping it open and grabbing my spare guns, sliding the magazines out and checking how many bullets they have before clipping them back into place.
“Ready.” They both nod in confirmation.
“Let’s move,” I whisper.
“We’ll cover the back,” Deacon whispers, nodding towards Jim. “This is your show, we’re just decoration,” Jim says, winking before they run towards the back of the house.
“Let’s take this nice and easy. We don't want to spook him,” I murmur, my training kicking in; knowing all too well if he hears us coming, he could do something to hurt my girl. Everything inside me tightens at the thought of taking this slow, every second counts. Blood pumps through my veins, echoing in my ears. Gritting my teeth, I push through the urgency racing through me, scanning the area as we take the rickety steps up to the broken front porch one at a time.
“We’ve got your back, brother,” Nash murmurs behind me.
Taking in the screen door half hanging off its hinges, I grip the metal handle. I freeze at the sound of the wooden planks under our feet groaning as rusted nails squeak, rubbing against the old wood.
Looking over my shoulder, putting a finger to my lips, I tilt my head. Hearing a muffled voice, followed by an equally small whimper of pain, breaking through the dead silence.
Setting my back teeth on edge.
Nash knocks my hand away from the metal handle and begins to pull it open, ever so slowly. I wince as a low screech rings out.
“Shit,” Lucas mutters.
As soon as the screen is open, I don’t give it another moment's thought. Lifting my foot, ready to bust in the door, I hear the deep voice on the other side of the door shout, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Scream for me, bitch!”
Without another thought, my foot busts in the door. The crack of the wood echoes around me before everything becomes a blur. My breath chokes out as I see him bring down a fucking whip against my girl’s fair, blood-stained skin. Sighting my gun, I pull the trigger. The loud boom rings in my ears and a loud scream fills the space, followed by more wood breaking. Shouting starts, but all my focus is on my girl strapped to a chair. Blood is everywhere, but what has my heart in my throat is that she isn’t moving. She’s not making a sound, and her head is lulled forward, her beautiful strawberry blonde hair a curtain around her gorgeous face. Voices shout around me, but I pay no attention.
Everything inside me is screaming at me to get to my girl and fuck everything else.
“I’m here, sunshine,” I choke out, making quick work of her binds. Pushing the hair out of her face, I cup her cheek feeling her tears against my skin, but she still doesn’t move. There’s no blink of those gorgeous eyes, and that beautiful soft harmonic voice has been muted. Just the thought that I might have lost her twists through me as a stabbing pain grips me. Pressing my fingers against her pulse point, I close my eyes, praying for a fucking miracle. After a beat, I feel it. It’s soft, but there. Scooping her up in my arms, I carry her out of the fucking house, shouting at Dixen to open my car. Needing to get her to the hospital, I gently lay her across my back seat.
“Keys!” Lucas shouts. Without a thought, I toss them to him, jumping in the back and resting Emily’s head across my lap. Su
cking in a deep breath, I finally see every little cut and burn mark on her fair skin. There’s so much blood, my head begins to spin.
“I got you, Sunshine,” I murmur, running my fingers through her hair. My heart squeezes in my chest knowing that through all that she didn’t stir, not even a gentle moan slipped past those soft lips.
It was my job to keep her safe and I couldn’t have fucked that up any better.
I promised I would always be there. I just hope that when she wakes, she can forgive me…
Pain.
Burning Pain.
The smell of burning flesh and blood blend together.
Cool air drifts over me, causing a stinging sensation to run through me.
My mind numbs against his voice as he cackles.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
My chest tightens trying to draw air into my lungs.
My world tilts and spins.
My pulse slows to a dull thump.
The warmth from earlier slowly begins to disintegrate.
My eyes close.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
Small whimpers trip off my tongue as tears ghost down my cheeks.
I feel myself slipping away and I can’t hold on anymore.
I’m losing my grip on reality.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
Sucking much-needed air into my burning lungs.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
With everything I have left, I try to push it all away.
Warmth slips in.
I hold on for as long as I can.
A warm smile filters through my mind, followed by eyes I could get lost in.
I imagine warm, strong arms wrapping around me, cocooning me.
Keeping me safe, protected.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
Gritting my teeth against the sob.
There’s a lump in my throat.
Tears coming faster now.
Pushing the pain away.
I slip into a favourite daydream that’s lingered inside me for months now.
A future with a big house, filled with love.
Jebson by my side, kids' laughter ringing out around us.
Whoosh.
Crack.
Pain.
It all begins to fade away into the abstract, reminding me that some dreams never come true.
Darkness begins to seep into the edges, blurring out the picturesque vision of a future built from my dreams.
Cold.
Numb.
Whirling emotions.
Bang.
It all comes crashing down.
Warmth morphs into a coolness that chills me to the bone.
I let go.
Sweet and pure childlike laughter follows me into nothingness.
Pain flows into Numbness.
Blank.
Silent.
Nothing.
Vacant.
My end.
That small flame flickering with warmth deep inside me dims before a whisper of air finally makes it disappear. Coldness seeps into all my broken cracks.
My heartbeat becomes just a flutter…
Beeping sounds follow close on the heel of the soft hum of machines and push through my muddled head. Pain licks through me a second later, making my head spin. My stomach turns over as the aromas of antiseptic and bleach creep up my nose.
I try to will my eyes to flutter open, but they feel heavy; they refuse to cooperate.
Tears gather behind my closed lids and I can’t stop the muffled sob from sliding up my throat.
The heat from a calloused hand encompasses my own, giving a gentle squeeze.
A muffled voice filters through the fog, but I can’t make out the words. Soft lips linger against my forehead, grounding me as tears slip past my closed lids. A rough thumb swipes them away, the circular rubbing motion against my cheek warms me, reigniting the flame I thought extinguished for good.
The pain ebbs and my stomach evens out as that touch weaves some kind of magic over me, filling all the broken cracks with liquid heat and extinguishing the remaining cold still lingering inside me.
For the first time, in a long time, I feel whole again.
The scent of cinnamon overpowers everything else around me.
“When you’re ready to wake up, Sunshine, I’ll be here,” that deep husky voice I’ve come to crave whispers in my ear, and I shiver as the heat of his breath rolls down my neck in waves.
A low hum vibrates up my throat. I suck on my tongue and realise how dry my mouth is.
“Water,” I whisper huskily, willing my eyes to open, but still they won’t. Getting frustrated at my body's betrayal, a small rumble vibrates through my chest. The bed I’m lying on begins to rise up as the end of a plastic straw brushes across my bottom lip, coaxing me to open up. Wrapping my lips around the end, I start to draw the cool water into my parched mouth.
My eyes finally obey and slowly begin to flutter open.
“Hi,” he murmurs. Those deep chocolate eyes filled with despair grip me like a vice, but that’s not what has my breath stilling in my throat. It's the guilt that’s swimming deep in those brown depths that’s pulling on my heartstrings, the caramel ring around his pupils brighter than normal.
“Hey.” I squeeze his hand in mine.
“I’m so glad you’re awake, baby.” Blowing out a rough breath, he leans down, brushing his lips across my forehead. “I missed you,” he mumbles into my skin, as if trying to brand the words into it.
“Missed you, too,” I manage to choke out past the lump in my throat.
“I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I promised I’d be there for you, to protect you, and I couldn’t have fucked that up more.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Jebson. He would have found me, either way.” I shrug, wincing a little as pain travels up my arms from the movement.
Looking down at my arms, I take in the numerous cuts, but what sticks out more are the fresh, long burn marks.
“I’m a monster.” This time I can’t stop the sob from breaking free. Tears begin to run hot and fast down my cheeks as I take stock of my body. Flinging the blanket off my legs, I hide the wince of pain as I tug up my hospital gown. The cigarette burns stand out like red circular welts, five on my left thigh and four on the other. My eyes blur from the tears streaming from my eyes, but even with an obscured vision they stand out amongst the numerous cuts; there has to be hundreds of them.
“Don’t say that,” he whispers harshly, gripping my hand and pulling the blankets back over me with his free hand.
Ignoring him, my head spins and my stomach rolls again. Before I have a chance to stop it, bile rises in my throat and I vomit all down the front of me.
Hiccup.
Sob.
Gag.
It burns my throat. My body aches all over and my head begins to spin all over again.
Sob.
I don’t deserve him.
Sniff.
“I can’t… I just can’t,” I choke out.
“Shhh...” he coos, trying to wrap his arms around me, but I recoil from his touch, not wanting his comfort.
I don’t deserve it.
I don’t deserve him.
The words keep repeating on a loop in my head.
“I can’t breathe,” I gasp.
My breaths are choppy.
My body is shaking.
My heart rate picks up, pounding through me as I try to take in lungfuls of air, but it’s no use.
“Breath... come on, baby... breath for me.”
It’s like I’m in a tunnel, spots of black begin coating my vision, the room begins to spin.
A beeping sound picks up speed.
Weird alarms start to ring.
“
Leave,” I heave out.
“No.”
“J-just,” I breath. “Leave.”
I try to focus on one thing, but it’s no use, I’m going to pass out.
“Never.” His voice sounds far off. Other voices penetrate around me, but I can’t focus.
“Miss Miller,” someone calls out, a bright white light shines in my eyes, but I can’t answer. I'm too busy trying to breathe.
Something hard pushes against my face, but I’m so lost inside myself I don’t know what’s happening.
I don't deserve him.
My lungs burn.
I don’t deserve him.
My head swirls.
I don’t deserve him.
My stomach rolls.
I don't deserve him.
Then Nothing.
Again, I’m left alone, wading through the fog, the pain slowly fading away, but the mental pain is still there. How can I ever deserve Jebson now?
I’m hideous. I don’t belong anywhere, especially not by Jebson’s side.
My body is fighting to stay alive; my brain slowly telling me to just let go and things will be better the next time I wake.
Mentally holding onto that flickering warmth once again, I let go.
Numbness flows into sensation.
My world, no longer blank. Instead, it’s filled with his expressive eyes.
My brain, no longer silent. Instead, it’s screaming at me not to walk away from him.
Nothing turns into everything I could have if I let him in.
The dreams that disappeared earlier, leaving me feeling vacant, have come back in full force, showering me in blinding technicolour.
The big house, Jebson by my side, kids running around laughing.
Love for one man, and one man only, fills me.
I tried not to let it happen, knowing I was undeserving of a good man like him, but it’s too late.
