He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as Ana, doesn’t deserve what he took from her. No one will ever be deserving enough of Ana Belle, least of all me, and yet here she is, trusting me with her heart, her secret, her safety.
I lift her into the shower and grab a washer from the towel rack. Stripping off, I join her under the stream, letting the hot water needle out the tension in my body as I hold her. I do as she asks and, with gentler hands than I thought I possessed, I help her wash away the stain he’s left upon the woman I love. I hold her in my arms and we cry together until the hot water runs out, and then I dry her off and carry her to bed. I hand her some sleeping pills and some Panadol for the pain and fold myself around her body until she falls asleep. Then I quietly tiptoe back into the bathroom, take the grate off the air vent and feel around until my hand comes to rest on the cool metal inside. Then I use Ana’s phone to make a call.
Chapter Twenty Two
Elijah
Five minutes after I ended the call with Holly her car had come tearing through the motel car park. She’d parked diagonally across two spaces, pulling up so hard she’d almost toppled me on my bike.
I told her what he’d done. She cried and sat down heavily on the bitumen in her fluffy bunny PJs. She looked like she wanted to throw up and, come to think of it, I kinda wanted to, too. She agreed to watch Ana until I got back and, much like Ana would have, she’d given me the third degree about what I was about to do. She screamed and ranted so loudly I thought she might wake Ana up, but whether it was the shock or the pills she was dead to the world, which was just the way I needed her to be.
Now I’m sitting on my bike outside that fucker’s house. It’s still pitch dark outside, but it won’t be if I sit here much longer. I flip the kickstand down and quietly make my way around to the back of the house. What I’m about to do will get me sent away for a long time, possibly the rest of my life, but there’s no other option here.
Pulling out my lock pick I slide it into the back door off the kitchen. I’m a little rusty, but after a minute the lock gives way and the door swings open. I pray like hell they don’t have an alarm system because if they do, I’m toast.
I step inside and ease the door closed behind me, then I slowly make my way up the stairs. At the top I glance at the three closed doors and thank mums everywhere for buying stupid signs that read: Scott’s room, like the one I’m staring at right now.
I creep over to the door. It’s at the very end of the hall, so I have to bypass his parent’s and one other bedroom on my way, and I hold my breath and hope like hell this doesn’t end before it even gets started.
I breathe a sigh of relief when my passage goes without a hitch, and another one still when I carefully turn the handle and I’m met with no resistance. I ease into the room and quietly shut the door behind me, taking a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
It’s obvious he’s here and not out abusing some other woman because he’s snoring softly. For a moment I just watch the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. I try not to think about what it will be like for his parents to wake and find their son dead in the morning, but of course as I stand in his childhood room surrounded by footy trophies, high school memorabilia and a poster of a half-naked woman bent over a V8 that looks an awful lot like my Ana, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for his family at what I’m about to do to their precious, sack of shit, rapist son.
I creep over to the bed, pull the gun and a strip of Duct tape from inside my jacket and place the tape over his mouth as I thumb the hammer and press it into his forehead.
His eyes spring open immediately. He screams, but it’s muffled. He’s not stupid enough to try wrestling the gun from me and I’m both thankful and disappointed for that. It takes everything I have not to blow his fucking head off right now, but I want him as shit-scared and fucking humiliated as she was, so I’m committed to seeing this through for Ana’s sake.
“Remember me, arsehole?” I whisper. It’s an effort not to scream in his face, but that really wouldn’t help my situation any.
Scumbag makes some desperate pleading noise in the back of his throat. His eyes are shinning with fear and I shift so I’m sitting on his chest and staring down into his pretty boy face that I want to fuck up every which way.
“You took something from someone tonight,” I begin and he shakes his head vigorously beneath my gun. I decide he can’t feel it enough and press it into his forehead a little harder which gets his full attention. He stills beneath me, except for the shallow breaths he’s taking and the sob that wracks his chest. “That wasn’t a fucking question you fuck-rag. I know what you did, you know what you did and you’re gonna fucking die for it.”
“Did you know she was a virgin?” I ask. I can see by the way his eyes widen slightly he didn’t. Not that it matters, really. Rape is rape. It’s still brutal and unwarranted, no matter what the circumstances, and men like him deserve to be strung up and castrated. He starts yammering again behind his gag and I pull back my elbow and slam it into his face. He screams like a little girl. It feels good to have an outlet for the rage so I do it again, harder this time. Then I press my hand down over his nose so his cries don’t gain any unwanted attention.
“This the first time you stuck your cock in a pussy that didn’t want it? Think carefully before you answer, you little fuck, because I will know if you’re bullshitting.”
He closes his eyes and very slowly shakes his head.
“You sack of shit,” I mutter and clench my jaw together tightly in order to keep from filling his groin full of bullets. “You’re lucky I don’t cut it off and nail it to your parent’s door.”
His eyes widen and he starts screaming again. He’s making too much noise so I punch him in the face to shut him up. Then I climb off of him and stand beside the bed with my gun aimed squarely at his groin. “Take off your pants.”
He shakes his head and I lean down so our noses are almost touching. “This 9mm may be small, but it’ll still blow a hole in your head. Now, imagine what something like that could do to your Johnson.” Scott’s eyes widen in terror. His nostrils flare wildly as he sucks in air and tries to plead with me from behind the duct tape. “So this is how it’s going to work: I tell you to do something, you do it. I won’t ask again, I’ll pull the trigger instead. Are we fucking crystal clear, or do I need to start shooting family members for you to get that point through your thick skull?”
He nods and, with trembling fingers, pulls his pants down to his ankles. I lift the knife from my belt and watch the fear slide over his face. It’s equal parts beauty and horror all at once. I move toward him and catch my reflection in the window above his bed and it occurs to me that I’ve never done anything with this much premeditated brutality. I’ve killed men in self-defence, once on the inside and once on the out to save the woman I loved from the same fate that this scumbag delivered to her tonight. I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit and left an awful lot of unhappy people in my wake, but I’ve never carved up a man’s junk and put a bullet through his brain while his parents were asleep in the next room. And, as I stand there glaring at my reflection, I see that if I go through with this, if I put a bullet in this fucker’s brain and splatter him all over his bedroom walls, it won’t make me any fucking different from him.
Would Ana forgive me for ending his life? Would she forgive me for letting him walk free? Would I? I don’t know the answers to any of these questions, and that scares the shit outta me.
A musky acrid scent hits my nostrils and I snap out of my thoughts and glance down at the piece of shit before me. He’s so fucking terrified he’s pissed and shit all over the bed. I wrinkle my nose, take a step closer to his head and bring my fist down on his cheek so hard it whips his head to the side and knocks him out cold. Then I pull up a seat beside him and waste no time making sure the outside reflects the ugliness on the in.
It’s not fucking pretty, and several times I gag and retch and worry his p
arents are going to walk in on me impersonating Jack the Ripper, but it isn’t long before it’s finished. My gloves are covered in blood—my knife too, obviously. I pick up the end of the sheet and wipe my hands and the blade on the clean white bedding.
Then I calmly walk over to the desk, tear off a sheet of paper from a notepad and write a letter to his parents:
Tonight your son raped a nineteen-year-old girl.
This is to make sure it never happens again.
I set the note in the middle of Scott’s chest. He’s out cold, but the rise and fall of that piece of paper eases some of the anxiety inside of me. I came here tonight to kill him and I didn’t. A part of me hates myself for being such a god damned pussy, but the other part knows I did the right thing.
He destroyed my girl tonight and I destroyed his chance of ever doing this to another woman again. We’re not even close to even but I’ll settle for it anyway, because it may just keep another naïve girl from having her life destroyed by that fucker.
Two kilometres from the Turner household and I have to pull the bike over because the shock of what I just did sets in, and I start spewing before I’ve even pulled off the road. I spend a good twenty minutes outside the Sugartown Primary School heaving up my guts, and then I climb back on my bike and drive to the nearest payphone where I report a break in at 24 Pine Tree Road.
Across town, I hear the wail of police sirens cut through the quiet early morning air and I jump back on the bike. I drive right past the motel, about 10 kilometres past it actually, and hurl the gun off into a cane field. I bury the gloves by the side of the road and clean myself up as best I can with some wet wipes I keep in an ammo case, then I speed back to the motel to spend as much time with Ana as I can before the men in blue come for me. And they will come. I have absolutely no doubt about that fact. In a way, I’m counting on it to keep me in line, because I could still very easily turn around and put a bullet in that kid’s head.
Once I slide my key in the door Holly is right up in my face, demanding answers. I pull her into the bathroom with me and quietly close the door to keep her from waking Ana.
“What the hell did you do?”
“I took care of it.”
Her eyes widen. “What does that mean, Elijah?”
I run my hands under the hot tap to clean away a spot of blood on my wrist and curse these old pipes for taking so long to heat up. My knuckles are bruised and, despite the leather gloves I’d been wearing, the skin is still all torn up from slamming my fist into Scott’s face. I desperately want a shower so I peel off my jacket and shuck off my boots but then it occurs to me that Fanta-pants has no intention of leaving until she gets her answers.
“He’s still breathing,” I say, and then think, Not that he deserves to be. “He has had some body modification work done, though.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she shouts. I glare at her to shut up but the bathroom door opens and a shell-shocked Ana looks back and forth between us. She takes one look at my hands and my guilty wide-eyed expression and bolts.
“Ana!” I shout and take off after her, nearly knocking Holly off her feet as I push through the bathroom door and into the motel room. She’s already out the door and half way to the staircase when I catch her by the waist and drag her back to my room, kicking and screaming. I dump her down on the bed, remembering only at the last minute how carefully she was moving last night. In the daylight I can see he really fucking did a number on her, and I curse myself again for being such a fucking pussy and not gutting the bastard.
“You promised,” Ana sobs and I make a move toward her, but suddenly Holly is beside her on the bed, holding her in her arms, and I feel like I’ve been shunted aside like old garbage. “You promised you wouldn’t tell. You said you wouldn’t go after him.”
She’s right. I did promise that. But I also made myself a promise the night the Angels attacked us, when she was almost raped right there in front of me. I promised myself I’d do everything within my power to keep her safe and if it’s one thing I know about spoilt little rich kid fucks like Scott Turner it’s that once they get away with something, they’re cocky enough to try a second time I’ll be a rotting corpse before I ever let him near my Ana again.
Holly surprises us both by saying, “He did the right thing, Ana.”
“What?” Ana and I ask at the same time.
“You need to go to the hospital. You need to let them carry out a rape kit and then you need to report this to the police.”
Ana shakes her head, “My dad, he can’t … this will destroy him.”
“No. It won’t.” I peer out through the curtains at the car park below. “Learning that you covered it up and let that arsehole walk, that will destroy him.”
She glances up at me. Her voice is just a whisper when she says, “What did you do?”
“I didn’t kill him, Ana. I wanted to.” I shake my head. “I want to, but then he’s still not really paying for what he did. It’d be giving him an out. Report it, get the rape kit and he’ll be locked away,” I say, before adding, “It might not be as long as he deserves, but a pretty boy like him will spend every day in prison wishing he’d never laid a hand on you.”
I glance at Holly, who’s looking at me with an odd expression, which is really saying something because she’s always looking at me odd. “Can you give us a minute?”
“Sure.” She squeezes Ana’s hand and then steps out onto the balcony, closing the door behind her.
“I’m sorry, baby girl. I know I betrayed your trust, but I hope you know I did it because I thought it was for the best.”
“That wasn’t your call to make,” she snaps and peeks up at me from behind a curtain of the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.
I hear the wail of sirens in the distance and I know I don’t have long. I pull her to her feet, wondering whether these precious few minutes with her will be the last I’ll ever get. God, I hope not because I love this crazy, naïve, insanely beautiful woman more than I’ve ever loved anyone, and the thought of never seeing her smile again, or the way she folds her arms and arches her eyebrow when she gets mad, or hearing the way she moans when I bring her exquisite pussy to the brink with my mouth, forces something inside me to snap. I know she’s still furious with me she has every right to be, but I don’t have time to worry about how much I hurt her, because those sirens are getting closer and she and I are drifting further apart.
“Promise me you’ll report this?”
“What, like you promised me?”
“Ana, please, I’m begging you. If you care about me at all, you’ll report it.”
“What does that mean?” The sirens get louder and it must finally click with her because she glances up at me with eyes shining with tears. “They’re coming for you?”
I nod.
She closes her eyes and the tears start rolling freely. “No. What did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say and take her chin in my hands, because I’m afraid touching her cheeks will only cause her more pain. “I love you, baby girl.”
I press her into me and kiss her hard on the mouth. It’s not a lingering kiss, she doesn’t open her lips and I don’t force her, but for a moment I feel her soften and melt into me and that’s good enough.
“I’m sorry you have to see this,” I say, as I pull away from her lips and study her face one last time. Outside, the screeching of brakes sets my hair on end. I count three pairs of footsteps thundering up the stairs and hear Holly swear beneath her breath and mutter, “Ah, guys?” before an officer kicks in the motel door and two more are pulling me away from Ana. She cups a hand over her mouth and shakes her head in disbelief.
I’m asked to put my hands behind my head and I do. I also bend a little at the knees in order for the officers to reach my arms but some fuck-rag shoves his boot in the back of my knees and I drop like a tonne of bricks. Then I’m being shoved face down on the floor with some arsehole’s knee between my shoulder blades as th
ey slap a pair of cuffs on me and yank me up by my wrists.
“Elijah Cade, you’re under arrest for the mutilation of Scott Turner. You have the right to remain silent …” The officer continues to read me my rights but I don’t hear any of it. I’m too focused on Ana and the way she’s mouthing “mutilation” at me like it’s a question she thinks I can answer. I feel the officers restrain my hands and slip the cuffs into place and then I’m being hauled to my feet and carted out the door.
“Wait,” I hear Ana say behind me and my walk of shame comes to a grinding halt. “I need to report a rape.” She blurts out, and for a heartbeat no one says a thing.
The officer holding my arm yanks me around to face her. “This guy?”
“No.” Ana’s shaking like a leaf but her gaze slides over me and she steels herself, wipes her tears and says, “Scott Turner is the one who raped me, in the cane fields outside town, last night.”
The officer nearest me sighs and pushes me toward the door, and I overhear the cop who read me my rights telling Ana to follow him down to the station.
I don’t know what lies ahead of me now, but I’m bursting with pride over how fucking brave my girl is. The officer forces my head down as he guides me into the back of the paddy wagon and, for the first time in my life, I smile as I’m carted off to the station.
Chapter Twenty Three
Ana
The next six hours of my life are a living hell.
Holly drives and we follow the police to the station where I deliver my statement of last night’s events to a man who has known me all my life, and is equally familiar with Scott Turner. I cry as I recount the drinking, the struggle and several times I have to stop to catch my breath as I tell Constable Miller about waking up alone in a cane field, about the pain lancing through my insides as I struggled to find my clothing and then walking the 2 kilometres into town to Elijah’s motel room.
Welcome to Sugartown Page 17
