He Saved Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  His arms came around me, finding the clasp of my sports bra. A second later, I was topless and our skin was pressed tight to each other. He held me tight to him as he kissed my face, his movements slow. I was burning alive, desperate to touch him everywhere.

  “You’re torturing me,” I panted.

  His fingers traced my spine and ended at the top of my workout shorts. My head fell back and hit the wall behind me.

  “You’re beautiful, Andra.” His voice was reverent. Would I ever tire of hearing the awe in his voice when he admired me? I didn’t want to imagine a world where that wasn’t my reality.

  His fingers slid under the waistband of my shorts, sliding against the skin underneath. He backed up and yanked them down, freeing me from the last of my clothing. My eyes were still closed, and my fingers still ached to dig into his skin.

  He cupped the back of my head in his hand and pulled me forward, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss to my lips. His other hand trapped my hands from touching him. I vaguely became aware of him pulling me away from the wall and walking me towards the bed.

  A second later, he pushed me gently onto the bed. I opened my eyes, laying on my back and staring up at him as he tugged his pants down. I had two seconds to admire him again before he covered me with his body.

  He kissed me full on the lips as he settled his body over mine. I reached my arms up to the top of his back and pulled them down, letting the fire spread so it consumed us both.

  He braced himself over me on his hands and looked down at me with a crooked smile. He leaned his head down and kissed the line of my collarbone. His lips followed a path down the center of my chest, between my breasts and to my stomach. My body yearned to lift off the bed as he kissed me.

  His lips came back to mine as his fingers traveled down my body. When they brushed up against me, I moaned. I’d been on fire since the first brush of his facial hair against my skin and when he touched the most hidden part of my body, it was like he’d thrown gasoline on a slow burn.

  My hands were greedy for his skin, and I ran them down his front. Before my hands gained purchase on the part I wanted to touch the most, he captured them in his.

  “I’m too close,” he whispered, sliding a finger inside of me. My entire body shook under his as he teased me with his one finger. He let go of my hands and they immediately clasped his shoulder, desperately. I heard the sound of the foil packet but I couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. “If you touch me, I’ll come undone right now.”

  I was struggling to form coherent sentences in my head, such was the state I found myself in. “I’m nearly there myself,” I gasped as he increased the speed of his hand against me. My nails dug into his skin. “Julian.” And then he was inside of me, picking up the pace that his hands had started.

  My skin split apart, my eyes burst with light. The rollercoaster tipped and fell into the drop and I didn’t feel any fear. Julian wasn’t on a journey with me; he was my destination.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The following morning, Mira trained me once more. She worked with me on my breathing – keeping my breaths even. “If you don’t force yourself to breathe in and out, you’re more likely to panic.” She stood sideways, her shirt hugging the small mound of her stomach. “Focus, Andra.”

  I lifted my eyes to her. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Exhale as you punch, kick, jab,” she said, reaching out a foot to kick me. I grabbed her foot with my own and then let hers down easily so she wouldn’t lose balance. Despite what she’d said earlier, I still worried about her being pregnant.

  “Breathe in and out through your nose,” she said, coming closer and aiming her fists at me. “Keep your mouth closed and breathe in through your nose so you don’t waste precious energy.”

  I ducked a fist that came towards my face, putting me at direct line of vision to her stomach again.

  “And pay attention,” Mira growled as she hit me on my back, knocking me down to the sand.

  I gasped for air, the acute pain of her hit to my spine ringing through my body. I was on my hands and knees on the sand as I looked up at Mira.

  “Roll away!” She glared at me. “You’re lucky I don’t want to fuck you up, because you’re in a very vulnerable position and I could have knocked you unconscious.”

  Confused, I stood up, still trying to breathe. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?” Mira’s eyes were red. Something was up.

  “Yeah. You’re not usually so…violent.”

  Mira laughed, but as usual it was without humor. I was beginning to suspect she found nothing genuinely funny. “I’m leaving,” she said, stressing each word, “tonight.”

  “I know that,” I replied, still not understanding the anger she was feeling.

  “You’re not ready,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “You’re still weak.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To defend yourself. I’m a foot shorter than you and I am kicking your ass, easily.”

  I stood taller, feeling anger at her words. “I may not be as strong as you, but I can defend myself.”

  “Prove it,” she said, gesturing with her hand for me to take her on.

  I hesitated only a second, before I lunged. She ducked, as I expected, so we’d swapped places, still facing one another. Anger fueled my muscles as I lunged again. Mira caught my incoming arm with her hand, deflecting my punch. I saw her swing her leg out to hook mine but I jumped out of the way and brought my knuckles down onto her hand, the one that held my arm. She let go immediately and I advanced, ducking the blow she aimed for me and grabbing her around the waist.

  I felt her fingers find the pressure points on my skull so I clamped a hand on her waist and rolled my fingers along the side, the way she’d taught me. I heard her grunt, which was the only noise she made when in pain. I locked my legs around hers and yanked, sending her to the sand on her back.

  Blood was roaring in my ears as I walked towards her. She tried scooting away but I grabbed her ankle and twisted her body so she flipped onto her stomach. And then I remembered the baby and jumped up and backwards.

  She didn’t move for a moment and then I heard her laugh. “Not bad, Andra.”

  A compliment from Mira? Wonders never ceased. Feeling pleasure, I reached an arm down and clasped hers to help her up.

  A second later, I was on my face in the sand and Mira was laughing. “Always be on your guard, babe.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed up on my hands. “I wouldn’t reach an arm down to help an opponent I was fighting,” I mumbled as I stood up and wiped the sand down my body.

  “I would hope not,” Mira said with a smirk. “And besides, I meant to be on your guard around me.”

  “Noted,” I muttered.

  “Let’s go again,” she said, rolling her head to each shoulder.

  We grappled for another hour until we were both on our backs on the sand, panting.

  “This baby is a total energy sucker,” she muttered between breaths.

  “I don’t even have that as an excuse.”

  “Maybe one day you will. And then I can kick your ass once again.”

  “Unlikely,” I replied.

  “Which part?” She turned her head to face me. “The kid part or that I’ll kick your ass?”

  “The kid part.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’ll definitely kick your ass again in the future.”

  It was weird talking about the future. This house on the beach felt like limbo. I wasn’t moving forward or backwards. Just biding my time. I couldn’t imagine anything as frustrating as sitting still and waiting for something to happen.

  It was weirder talking about the future with Mira. Her belief that we’d wrestle again sometime in the future meant plans. Plans meant a life outside of this house and while I desperately wanted that, it was hard to believe it would happen anytime soon.

  “Why no kids?” Mira’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  I shrugged, ra
n my fingers through the sand. “I don’t even know half of my DNA. I can’t think about kids.”

  “Is it Julian?”

  I turned my head to look at Mira. “Are we actually engaging in girl talk?”

  “Hormones have made me soft.” Mira’s hand landed on her stomach. “But don’t expect me to braid your hair or pillow fight.”

  “I won’t.” I shifted in the sand a bit. “I bet you’d leave me black and blue in a pillow fight. And no, it’s not Julian.” My eyes drifted to the house. “I just don’t know if I have what it takes to be a mom.”

  Mira laughed, that short, loud sound. “Who does? It’s not a skill you develop until you become one. Do you really think I saw myself becoming a mother?”

  “I don’t really know you that well. Did you want to be a mother?”

  Mira turned her head to look up. “I didn’t get pregnant on purpose, I’ll say that much.” She frowned for a second. “But I don’t regret it.” I watched her face soften. Mira was the most complex person I’d ever met, and I didn’t know if it was due to pregnancy or if her moods always shifted so quickly. She turned to me again. “Remember what I said, Andra. We all make choices in life, and some of them are scary ones.”

  “I know you’re being really vague, but I think you’re telling me not to sit around and wait.”

  “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m telling you to pursue what you want. We all have choices, but some are made for us. You still can choose to want something. I didn’t make the choice to become pregnant, but I want this. I’m going to be a mom.” She swallowed. “But what I am saying is even if something is scary, even if it hurts, if it’s what you want – go after it.” She looked towards the house before looking back to me. “Remember what you want. Pursue it.”

  “I’m trying,” I insisted. “I want to go with you to Michigan.”

  Mira shook her head. “No. This trip is research. What happens on this trip determines the course of action.” She pushed her hand into the sand between us. “You’re a fighter, I can tell. Remember that. Fight.” She pushed up on the hand in the sand and slowly stood. She reached a hand for me and I hesitated only a second before I grabbed it and stood next to her.

  As I pulled away my fingertips grazed her wrist, feeling smooth lines. My eyes immediately looked down at her wrist but she pulled away.

  Scars. I’d felt scars.

  I looked up at her, embarrassed. She looked equal parts angry and resigned.

  “Fight,” she mouthed, tugging the sleeve down over her wrist. It wasn’t until she turned that I noticed the faint scars on her neck, too.

  That night we all ate around the table together. Julian had cooked, which was becoming the norm. Six was restless as he watched Mira eat. Something was brewing beneath his cool gaze at her and it puzzled me. But knowing Six, he wouldn’t reveal his thoughts.

  “Good job, chef,” Mira said with a raise of her glass, nodding to Julian. Julian smirked a little at her before looking at his plate. She leaned back against her chair and patted her belly. “I pigged out.”

  “That’s the baby,” Six murmured, his eyes never leaving her.

  Mira sipped her glass and looked at him with unreadable eyes. “The food baby.”

  He shook his head and looked at his own glass. “The human one.”

  “Yours,” Mira said with a gruffness I didn’t expect.

  Again, they were communicating on a level that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what was going through their heads, but judging by the way Six sneaked glances at me, I assumed it wasn’t a conversation he wanted an audience to witness.

  Mira sipped her water noisily. She didn’t mind the audience. This table was Mira’s stage and she appropriately sat right at the head of it. “Everyone here is well aware that I’m carrying your spawn, Six. Deal.”

  My eyes widened and I looked at Six, whose eyes were back on Mira. It was like witnessing your parents arguing. The thought made a laugh bubble up my throat.

  Mira laughed then too, as did Julian. Six looked away from her and back to his plate. I almost felt bad for him. If his sanity was a train, Mira was its conductor.

  “Lighten up, Six.” Her voice was so soft, I almost didn’t hear her.

  “This isn’t a game, Mira,” Six said, his voice even. “This isn’t like before.” He opened his mouth like he was going to continue but he abruptly stopped talking, halting whatever words he’d intended to say.

  A thought occurred to me. “Why don’t I just come out of hiding?”

  Six looked at me with his eyebrows narrowed. “Are you joking?”

  I shook my head, refusing to look away. “I’ll just tell everyone what happened.” There was silence at the table. “He raped me.” Saying it out loud muted every other noise apart from the blood in my ears. Julian’s hand found mine under the table and he squeezed it.

  “Do you think that’s how it works, Andra?” Six asked with a heavy hand of sarcasm.

  I shrugged. “I’ll come out. I’ll say I ran away.”

  “That’s not going to get you justice.” Six sipped his drink and sat back. “Nor will it get justice for your mom.”

  That hit my chest and I took a deep breath. “But if I say he raped me-”

  “They’ll just believe you?” Six asked incredulously. “Do you think that any woman who says she was raped automatically gets justice?” Six laughed, without humor.

  Mira was noticeably silent. I turned to look at her but she was staring at Six, no smile on her face. I watched as she slid her fingers under her sweatshirt and itched her wrist. Her scars.

  Six continued, “That’s not how it works, Andra. You can’t claim rape and get justice. If that were the case, our prisons would be overflowing.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands, his jaw clenching.

  I swallowed. “I want to help,” I insisted.

  Six leaned forward across the table, facing me. “You want to help? Stay the fuck inside this house.” He stood up and took his plate into the kitchen, leaving us three at the table.

  I finished my last few bites before pushing away my plate. Julian was twirling his glass thoughtfully. Just as I was about to leave the table, Six returned with a case and pulled out electronics, laying them out on the table.

  “What’s that?”

  Six braced his fists on the table and looked up at me. “Mira’s going to wear an earpiece and mouthpiece while she’s in the apartment. You’re going to listen in and help her if she needs to know where to go.” He glanced to Mira, nodded his head. “Mira will need your guidance once she’s inside the apartment, as far as where to look and passwords and everything else.”

  Six knew I could write it down for Mira, but this was his way of including me in the only way he wanted to include me. And I was grateful for it.

  “Okay. How will I listen in?”

  Six reached down and picked up a small, no-frills cell phone. “Disposable phone. Mira will call you once she’s inside the apartment. I’ll be waiting outside, like I did with you. We’ll need to make this quick, because Hawthorne has been under extra scrutiny lately. He hardly leaves the apartment.”

  “When are you breaking in?”

  “Tomorrow,” Six answered.

  “When do you fly back?”

  “Tomorrow night. Red-eye.”

  I nodded, feeling a little more comfortable with the plan, knowing that I would be able to listen in to Mira and help in some way. Feeling helpless was more defeating than being trapped in this house.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Shortly after Julian had placed the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, Mira and Six left. I didn’t know what to make of Mira yet, but she had squeezed my shoulder on her way out.

  I retreated to the bedroom but bypassed the book I’d planned to read. Anxiety twisted in my veins and it was a feeling I knew wouldn’t leave until we got past this moment. Restless energy shook my bones and I needed to release it somehow.

  I hopped on the treadmill and w
as about three miles into my run when a memory of my mom broke through.

  I came through the back door to the sounds of my mom singing in the kitchen. Her voice held a melodic quality whether she was using it to sing or to speak. I walked through the dining room in the kitchen and saw her bent over, scrubbing under the sink.

  “Mom.”

  Her head popped out, her dark hair a mess of twists and curls atop her head. “Hey babe,” she said, grinning. She looked me up and down, taking in my running gear. “Just finished a run?” she asked with an eyebrow raised. There was something so elegant about her, about that raise of eyebrow on her smooth, clean face.

  I nodded and moved to crouch next to her. “What are you doing?”

  “Scrubbing the wall behind these pipes,” she said before crawling back under. She continued, her voice a bit muffled, “There’s some water damage back here. I’m probably going to have to fix that.”

  “Why?” I asked, squinting to see what she was talking about. “It’s not urgent, is it?”

  “It could be, if left alone. Better to fix little things now before they became a bigger problem.”

  That was my mother’s motto. It was a mantra she repeated daily, about my homework, the dishes, or fights with friends.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked after a minute, already bored watching my mom scrub a wall that didn’t look dirty to me.

  “Six is bringing pizza,” she said. She pulled out from under the sink. “It’s Sunday,” she said pointedly.

  Sundays were family dinners. Which I found funny because the only person we invited wasn’t even family. My aunt and uncle never came, but that didn’t seem too unusual as we never saw them.

  “Did someone say my name?”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Six standing in the doorway, holding two pizza boxes on one arm and a bottle of wine in the hand of his other arm.

  “Oh yay, you brought wine,” I said a bit sarcastically. Six lifted an eyebrow at me.