by Kat Kenyon
I can’t breathe. Oh God…please no.
“Tyler…” His name slips from my lips before I can stop it.
There’s the sound of another punch, as Tyler yells, “You can’t take her!”
Time slows and I see Tyler trying to get to me. Through the open door he’s struggling with an officer and one of our security guards. Tyler’s yelling at him to let him go.
Then someone touches me. No one gets to touch me again.
Screaming.
There’s screaming coming from somewhere as my body goes ballistic, time speeding up to double time. Rage and fear fuel physical power I don’t have. Ignoring the bruises, finger, and ribs that burn, my fists and feet fly, causing the dark figure looming over me to grunt as he tries to get me to my feet.
No.
I’m flipped over, stomach pressed against the bed so fast I can’t stop it. My hands are pulled behind my back even as I go up in flames. I want Tyler. I can’t stop the hands on me. I can’t see anymore. My vision goes black and I hear shrieking.
And, I hear Tyler. He’s calling for me to calm down. Telling me I’ll be okay. But it’s not his hands on me. It’s not his breath on my neck.
Oh God, there’s breath on my skin.
I fight, wrenching my shoulders so bad it feels like they’re being pulled out. I kick, whipping my head back into the face of the person behind me, not stopping when there’s cursing, and when a hand comes forward, I bite down. A wet, metallic tang pours into my mouth even as I’m shoved down by my head, the wrenching of my neck and pain from my damaged ribs makes it hard to breathe.
“Baby.”
It’s the softness of his voice that breaks through. His heartbreak lancing the mental wall barricading my rational mind. Opening my eyes, it’s his tears that freeze me, not mine. Tyler’s hands are twisted behind his back, his face pressed against the door by two men in uniform.
“Baby. I’m so so sorry.”
He’s shaking.
“Tyler?”
He’s got a black eye. When did he get hit?
“Baby, if you don’t calm down and go, they could hurt you. They could hold you longer. I swear I’ll get you out and make everyone pay for this, but if we go to jail, I can’t get you out.”
If I ask him, Tyler Blackman will fight them. He’d go to jail for me. He’d kill if I asked him to. But he needs to be free to protect us, and I don’t want him to have any more black eyes. Not for me.
“Don’t let them keep me.”
His nod, and the flood of tears that comes down his cheeks nearly break me. As the officers pull me to my feet, they don’t release him, even though we both stop fighting. They zip tie my hands behind my back, ignoring my injuries, and march me out of the apartment.
As the officer forces me past Tyler, the two other officers finally release him. Neil tries to pull him back, but Tyler shrugs him off, getting between me and the door. His hands grab my face hard, the scrape of his cast against my skin grounding me.
I can’t breathe.
Forehead to forehead, the green flecks in his eyes are blown. “Rayne,” he whispers. It pulls more tears to the surface because he’s the only thing that’s real and they’re taking me away from him. “I’m gonna get you back.” His lips slam down on mine in the middle of a nightmare, and it reminds me I might wake up.
Oh God.
It’s only the second real kiss we’ve had. It’s the first time he’s kissed me and the violence in it shouldn’t feel good but it does.
“I swear, I’ll come for you. You’re mine. And these fuckers can’t take away someone that’s mine.” He sneers at the officer behind me who’s bleeding and promises him, “That’s right, I’ll be coming for you too. That bite will be the nicest thing that happens to you after today.”
His eyes fall back on mine, his thumbs trying to wipe away the tears that keep coming. I know he’s trying to stop them, but I can’t with him crying too. “You don’t have to be strong, but you have to survive. Can you do that?”
“As long as you come for me.” The words hurt when they slip from me.
“I’ll always come for you, Rayne.”
• • • •
I can’t take anything with me. I’m nothing to them. The officers who take me, hate me. They pretty much say so as they shove me into the back of an ambulance where new men grab me, sending me into another panic attack. So, they strap me down, which makes me want to hurt them.
I hate them.
How my mother got a psych hold on a child she hasn’t seen in months is beyond me. Yet, here I am. Each touch feels like a new punch, leaving a new mental bruise. And when they try to talk to me, I refuse to respond or cooperate other than not biting them as long as they keep their fucking hands to themselves.
Tyler will come get me. Worse case, three days of sitting by myself.
“Have fun, Hannibal,” one of the paramedics say.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I’m pushed through the doors of the hospital, and led through two sets of double doors, then down a hallway. The first time they try to get my information, too many people are waiting in the emergency room, so they make me go upstairs where a pissed off nurse points me to another room.
Each turn in the hospital makes it feel like a maze. There’s turn after turn of white walls with doors full of people I don’t know. Too many people, too much noise. There are too many locked doors I have no control over and the EMTs who brought me, practically slam me into a chair, making my ribs scream in protest.
There’s no Tyler. No Shadows. I can’t breathe and I want to scream or bite. I want to run, but they’re bigger and stronger, and Tyler said to hold on, so I hold on for him.
He said he’d come and I believe him.
He came for me last time. He may have practice and he may have class, but he’ll come.
He will.
When I get my hands on my mom…I might kill her.
“So, what’d she do to get the restraints?”
The bored question snaps me back to the situation and the older woman in front of me. Her hair’s pulled back and she’s wearing scrubs that look like a child colored them with crayons.
“She’s a fifty-one fifty, who bit me. Kicked me. Hit me. She head-butted an officer. This one’s a damn dream.” He goes to shake me, but I bare my teeth. My storm trooper has the balls to sound offended when it’s them in the wrong.
The other man from the ambulance scoffs. “She also bit one of the cops.”
The nurse raises her eyebrows at him, then her eyes narrow at me.
“The boyfriend got into a full-on fight with the cops,” says the man.
The nurse looks disgusted, and I watch her hit a button on her phone.
Well, fuck her.
“You going to be a problem?” she grunts.
“They didn’t have the right to pick me up.”
“Everyone says that, honey.”
Her blank stare kick-starts something in me. A tiny spark. Something that died, blooms awake. It’s not fully switched back on, I’m not quite able to make the full connection between the me before and the me now, but I’m close. “Yeah, well, when I sue everyone for violating my civil rights, I’ll get the last laugh.”
“Ignore her, there’s a court order and the report from her mom.” The bleeding asshole I bit slaps down paperwork and practically grins at me. “And based on her behavior, she’s definitely a danger.”
“My mom has no fucking say, I made sure of it.” I want to rip his smug face apart.
“She’s your next of kin,” the nurse says, typing away.
“You are so screwed. Tyler has my power of attorney, and you fucking with me, fucks with my case.”
“What case?” the nurse asks, hesitating for a moment.
“Ignore her, her mother says she’s delusional.” The asshole rolls his eyes. “If she didn’t belong here, the judge wouldn’t have signed the papers.”
Oh my God…
&n
bsp; “Well, we’ll see how the next few days go. Let’s get through these questions so we can get her stripped down and get the examination done.”
Stripped down—
“No, you don’t get to touch me.”
“You’re not in fairyland anymore, princess. This is the real world. Everyone gets strip searched for their safety and ours.” The nurse barely spares me a glance, clicking away on the computer she rolled in. “We need blood and urine from you and I need to make sure everything is okay as you come in; it’s the rules.”
“Lay one hand on me and you’ll be part of my rape trial.” I gag. I haven’t said that word out loud before.
The nurse’s eyes flare wide, looking from the ambulance personnel to me. “What rape? Guys, have you checked to see—”
“Listen, her mother says she makes shit up. Just process her and get her in. I’m tired of dealing with her.”
She hesitates, but when the phone starts ringing, she sighs. “Okay, okay. Let’s get this going.”
I feel them release me, but I don’t get a chance to fight back. I’m instantly grabbed by two big guys in white. The rational space I’d found disappears when I feel new hands land on me, tugging me down a hallway, holding me, pushing me down. Stripping me.
Stripping me of myself.
I’m gone again.
Chapter Four
Tyler Blackman
“Fuck class and fuck running routes!”
I can’t believe Mom’s talking this trash to me. Telling me I have to keep up my normal routine makes me want to break things. She doesn’t get that I don’t care about any of it. It’s only been a day and she’s acting like I should be past all of it. This is exactly why I called Granddad first.
“Tyler—” Her voice pleads over the phone, but if she says it’ll be okay one more time…
“I gotta go.”
I hang up, squeezing so hard I’m surprised the phone doesn’t crack. While I stare, a text comes from Vindex letting me know our friends are here. They’re coming because I asked them to bring our homework by this morning, so if I get a call, I can leave for court.
When I flipped my shit yesterday, it was Neil who kept me from running after her, then slammed my phone into my hand and told me to do something about it. My first call was to Granddad, who promised we’d fix it.
The family law firm is full of sharks, and Phillip Arnowsky, a founding partner, is a great white. He needs Granddad, and so he’s personally handling it. Within an hour, he’d contacted the hospital and was told I couldn’t see her, and that they wouldn’t release her. The hospital said she is too fragile to see anyone, and she needs psychiatric care. But that doesn’t make sense unless they did something.
She’s alone in there.
They’re ignoring my power of attorney, so Arnowsky petitioned the court for a writ of habeas corpus. He said that meant they had to bring her to court, but if they break her before then, it won’t matter. Keeping her away from me is dangerous, and if they make her crack, I won’t forgive them.
I felt her in the last couple days. The real her under all the broken pieces. Now, I’ve got a sick feeling I know what they’ve done to cause her to fall apart again. I hope I’m wrong, but the idea I’m not, makes me want to burn it all down.
People in authority always fuck things up. The school, the court that allowed this, the cops who haven’t done shit to help her and then kidnapped her from her home, the hospital. They’re corrupt…liars, they don’t care about the people they’re there to serve and protect.
It’s bad enough I have to rely on an attorney and Granddad to make sure the system doesn’t screw her over and I’m…fuck.
I’m useless.
Glancing at the kitchen table, I spot her backpack. I haven’t moved anything. Both her bags are where she left them. One on the table, one at the foot of the bed, with the memory of her screams living in my ears constantly. Her unrelenting terror ripping me apart inside.
I wasn’t able to stop it.
My jaw clenches as her screams play on repeat. Everything about me has to be better. There can be no weakness where she’s concerned. I spent last semester working with my therapist to get my anger under control, but I don’t see my anger as the problem anymore. Its lack of focus is and I can no longer be ineffective.
She doesn’t scream like that again.
A lungful of air fills my chest as I quickly run through everything I need to get done, then flip to frequently called numbers on my phone, pressing Coach Mills’ name. As I do, I open the door and wave through the guys, holding up a finger, pointing to the phone at my ear.
“Hello. Coach Mills,” he answers.
It takes a moment to respond as I wave at everyone to quiet down, “Hi Coach, it’s Tyler.”
Mike, Bay, and Ethan barrel through the door as Coach pauses. “What’s going on, son?”
Everyone in the room watches me with wide eyes, the same question on their minds.
“They took her.” I choke on the words, but I don’t let myself release what’s buried in my gut even as the sound of her fear rings in my ears.
“What?” Coach asks.
“There was a judge who said the cops could take her to the hospital, and, they just…took her.”
There’s a quiet wave of cursing in the apartment as Coach stumbles over his words. “My God—Tyler, whatever you need to do, you do it. Stay home, come work through it, you do what you have to, and if you need any help, you call me.” He coughs. “You two have been through more than enough.”
After I thank him, I slump down on the couch beside Mike.
I’m so sorry, baby.
“They took her away?” Bay slaps the table, looking at me like he wants to punch a wall.
“Yep.” The p pops loudly in the quiet as the guys look around the room and then back at me.
Ethan, who brought our statistics homework frowns and looks at me confused. “They can do that? Just…take a person?”
“You wouldn’t think so, but the cops walked in and just…took her.”
Neil snorts from the doorway where he’s looking at me with an eyebrow raised.
“What?” I ask him. “I didn’t say I was quiet, but that’s what they did anyway.”
Shrugging at me he doesn’t say a word as he closes the door.
“You weren’t quiet?” Mike asks.
“I may or may not have hit a cop,” I mutter, flexing the hand free of the cast.
The guys start cussing under their breath, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Not that it matters. I don’t care what they think of my actions.
“Not a great way to work this out, man,” Bay says, frowning. “Ya gotta stop hitting people.”
Mike just grins at me. “My man.”
“But, they just took her,” Ethan snaps again. “Why?”
“Her mom,” I grind out.
Bay hisses. “Shit. That druggie bitch is poison.”
Their friendship means Bay knows more than enough about Emily to understand how bad this is.
“I’m getting her out.” I look at them one by one. “So, thanks for grabbing our homework. It’ll be a bit before we’re back.”
“Ty, staying here won’t help. It won’t get her out. You have to have a life for her to come back to.” Bay thumps the table again. Mike nods and shakes my shoulder.
I glare at him, wanting to see how he’d feel if he had a tenth of the ache in my chest.
It’s only been a fucking day!
Bay keeps talking as if he gets it. “We love her too. But if she finds out you fucked up school and football, she’s gonna be pissed. Grab your stuff, have the scary guys”—he waves at Neil who’s standing near the door—“keep your phone. They’ll wave you in if the call comes through.”
Neil nods from his new post, leaning against the wall and shrugs as if it’s a given.
The idea of doing anything but try to get her out feels like giving up. “What the fuck is the point if she’s not here?”
/>
“Do you need to hit someone?” Mike asks, shrugging at me. “We can go find Wyatt.”
Bay rolls his eyes at him, before looking back at me. “The point is, making sure she has something solid when she gets back.” Bay tilts his head, looking curious and annoyed. “What do you think she’ll say or do, if you get kicked out? Do you think she’ll be happy if you can’t play ball anymore? Be smarter for her.”
I hear them. It hurts, but they’re right. There’s not much I can do. It’s been less than forty-eight hours and me sitting here isn’t making the court move any faster or making the hospital let her go. It just makes my skin tight and my blood burn at the idea of leaving her space, but everyone piles on me, pointing to the future when all I can feel is the now.
Surrendering, I get to my feet and walk into our empty bedroom. The chill of her absence makes me want to crawl into a corner, but I can’t. I pack a dark suit and tie in case I get a call from Arnowsky. I’ll go to class. I’ll run routes. And I’ll pray to be interrupted by the court to go get my girl.
• • • •
The first few classes go by so slow it feels like I’m moving backward. Memories of the last five months flicker like a film, jumping between missing scenes like a love story montage, leaving me wanting it all back, desperate for the sequel.
In my most miserable course this semester, where I have to be laser-focused, simply copying the notes from the board is nearly impossible. With the soft tapping of note-taking around me, my professor’s lecture might as well not happen as I shift in the small wooden chair, watching for a sign from Neil through the window in the door. The small seats they give us aren’t made for people my size. I’m finally down to the weight Coach wants me, but I’m still too tall for the setup. It makes a rough day worse. Ready to growl or hit someone, I look out the door again in the middle of the explanation of torsional strength, and see Neil raise his phone to his ear.
Time freezes as his lips move, his eyes rising to mine. Before he does anything, my laptop is shut and shoved into my bag along with my textbook. I’m moving and out the door before my professor can finish his sentence. Neither of us stop, already heading for the front door when Neil says, “There’s a hearing in forty-five minutes.”
