by ANDREA SMITH
My first place standing in the musical free style captured a $75,000 purse. Not too shabby. Mark and I were seated as they were presenting all of the awards for the various categories at the closing. We were awaiting the beginning of the awards presentation. People were still filing into the grandstands, mostly owners who had not been present during the various competitions, but had special interest in the awards ceremony. Mark was reading the final results from the latest printout.
“I wonder if Trey is staying for the awards ceremony?” he asked.
“What?”
“He was here for the competition, didn’t you know?”
“No,” I stated flatly. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, he was up in the grandstands with some woman. He came down after they announced that you and Derringer had taken first place to congratulate you, but you were back at your hotel room.”
I was numb. Why had Trey bothered to even show up? Why did Mark wait until now to mention it to me?
Just as I turned to say something else to Mark, I caught a glimpse of Trey, coming into the arena with none other than Charlotte on his arm. Oh freaking great! They made their way over to our section, taking seats in the same row, just a few seats down. Trey caught my eye as they were being seated, smiled and gave me a brief wave. I nodded and turned to Mark.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I stated plainly.
“What?”
He turned to face me in his seat and noticed the arrival of Trey and Charlotte. He didn’t get what I was trying to convey.
“See, there’s Trey now with the woman he was with earlier,” he said, nodding in their direction.
No shit I thought. I was really feeling nauseated, that part was true.
“You look green,” Mark acknowledged.
“Ahh, yeah,” I said my eyes bugging out at his. “I told you that I didn’t feel well.”
“Can you make it through this presentation?”
“I’ll give it my best,” I answered.
The closing ceremonies started, with each event being detailed as to the participants and placement after completed. Finally, they got to the dressage category of free-style musical. The top five scorers were announced starting from fifth place and moving backwards to first place. My stomach
was roiling. I just needed to get through this. Then I could
retire back to my nice, comfortable king size bed in my hotel room for the night.
My event was finally up. The master of ceremonies announced Derringer, owner Trey Sinclair, trainer Mark Montgomery and talent, Tylar Preston.
We all proceeded up to the podium to accept the trophy along with the envelope that had a check for our take from this competition. Somehow it ended up that I was standing next to Trey as the presenter shook each of our hands, presenting the trophy and envelope to Trey while yesterday's competition with Derringer and my performance was being shown on the backdrop screen complete with Lady Gaga’s music in the background. As we turned to leave, my stomach gave a final lurch. I threw up all over Trey’s shiny black shoes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
In the following weeks after Malvern, Mark and I continued to work on another musical freestyle routine. We had to up the technical level since taking first at Malvern Park. Our next competition was scheduled for October 13th in Nashville. Our workouts with Derringer were exhaustive, at least for me.
I hadn’t seen Trey since my vomiting faux pas during the awards ceremony. He had called me the next day to see how I was feeling. I had apologized to him repeatedly over the phone. He insisted it was no big deal, saying that he hadn’t liked those shoes anyway.
His parents had returned to the manor that same weekend. I wondered how long it would be before Trey went back to Atlanta and stayed. His responsibilities here were finished for now.
The fall was a blessing in southern Virginia. The nights were cooling off; good sleeping weather and I was certainly taking advantage of it. I had removed the window air conditioner from my bedroom window and had taken to sleeping with the window open, enjoying the night breezes and fresh air. I was normally in bed by nine o’clock, drained of all energy it seemed recently.
I was determined to stay up past nine tonight. The season premiere of ‘Revenge’ was on and I had become hooked on it last season. I made some microwave popcorn and poured a tall glass of iced tea for myself. I relaxed back on the sofa and lasted about fifteen minutes before I dozed off. The show was long over by that time. I turned the television off, switched off the lights and headed for my nice soft bed.
The stars were out tonight; I liked being able to see them from my bedroom window. A cool breeze blew through the curtains, parting them so that I could see the beautiful night sky. I was back to sleep within minutes.
I was dreaming. I felt his hands on me... His fingers were caressing my inner thigh, parting my legs. It must be Trey. Trey had come to me in my dreams, finally. His touch seemed foreign to me now. That was no surprise; it had been awhile. Perhaps Charlotte had ruined his magnificent touch. We would get it back; we would once again work our magic with each other’s bodies.
His hand was pulling my silk panties down to my ankles, then removing them and tossing them aside. His lips were on my sex, tongue darting in and out of the folds, fingers roughly pushing inside. Had he forgotten how to find my sweet spot? His hands were roughly exploring every part of me down there. He thrust yet another finger inside of me, the fingernail scratching my soft flesh. I moaned from the pain, he mistook it for pleasure and continued the rough in and out motions with his fingers.
This was eerily familiar.
Then I heard his voice. It was no longer smooth and silky.
“You like that don’t you, bitch? Moan for me again. Tell me how much you like it, Sissy.”
I realized this was not a dream. This was the reality of the moment. I fought to open my eyes; yet I didn’t want to see that awful man. The man from when I was thirteen. My mind fought to find some logic, some rationale as to why and how he was here now. I thrashed away from him, trying to push him off of the bed.
“Sissy likes it rough, huh?” his voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Want me to fuck you like the boss man did in the stable that night? You liked it rough then didn’t you Sissy?" I found my voice, screaming loudly, shrieking with rage. A hand clamped down savagely on my mouth to quiet my screams. My survival instincts kicked in. I bit his hand as hard as I could, tasting his blood.
“Ow,” he bellowed, “You fucking bitch cunt,” he hollered, pulling his hand back momentarily.
That was all I needed just a moment. I let out more screams, kicking and flailing at him with legs and arms. My hand came in contact with something on the nightstand. It was the lamp. I grabbed it, swinging it around and smashing it against something. I was hoping it was him. It gave me a sliver of time to scream.
“Help! Someone please help!” I screamed again and again.
He was pressed down on me now, livid with rage, the curtains were billowing out from the night breeze, letting the light of the stars and moon inside the darkened room. In the seconds just before his meaty fist found my face, I saw the man from my past once again in the dark. It was Charlie. His fist took the image away. I sank blessedly into black unconsciousness.
I was dreaming again. In my dream, I had a horrendous headache. It throbbed and pounded worse than any hangover. But I hadn’t been drinking. I was confused as to the source of this pain. I heard voices around me in the dream. They were hushed voices, almost whispering. Were they talking about me? The voice talking now was talking louder. I didn’t recognize the voice.
“Mr. Sinclair,” the unrecognizable voice said firmly, “We have no way of knowing when she will come to. These things are not predictable. Every person is different; healing is dependent upon many factors. I know that you want an answer. I just don’t have one to give you at this point in time.”
“Fine, doctor.”
That was Trey’s voi
ce. He was perturbed I could tell. He mumbled something to someone else a few moments later.
“You would think that with all the damn tests they’ve ran on her over the past twenty-four hours, they could tell us a bit more than nothing.”
“I know; it’s frustrating.”
That was Mark’s voice! Mark and Trey were both here in my dream? Why couldn’t I see them? I opened my eyes but there was nothing but darkness. Why was I blindfolded?
What kind of a sick game were they playing? I tried to say something but my voice wasn’t working apparently. This dream sucked. I sank back into a deeper sleep, hoping to find more interesting dreams.
My eyes fluttered open to blackness. This wasn’t a dream. I knew that for a fact. But something was definitely covering my eyes. A bandage perhaps? I was thirsty, definitely thirsty. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a squeaky groan. Someone came close to me, I could feel someone there.
“Tylar, are you awake?”
It was Denise. Denise was here, thank God!
“Denise,” my voice was a hoarse rasp at best.
(What the hell?)
“Yes, it’s me Tylar. I’m here with you. You are in the hospital.”
(What? Again?)
“I’m going to buzz for you nurse to let her know that you’re coming around, okay sweetie?”
I tried to fathom why I was in the hospital again. Had I been in an accident? Did I fall from Derringer? I couldn’t recall anything. A few moments later someone else came into the room. It must be the nurse as I felt someone hovering over me, taking my blood pressure then checking something on my arm. Probably one of those damn IV’s.
“Ms. Preston? Can you hear me Ms. Preston?”
I nodded because it hurt to talk.
“That’s good. You’re doing fine, Ms. Preston. The doctor will be in to talk to you in a few minutes. Just try to relax, okay?”
I nodded again. I heard her leave.
“Denise,” I croaked.
“Yes, I’m still here, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”
I raised the arm that didn’t have some apparatus hanging from it to see what was covering my eyes. It was gauze wrapped around my head, covering my eyes.
“Tylar, you don’t want to mess with that bandage. The doctor will explain everything to you when he comes in, okay?”
I nodded.
Several minutes later, someone entered the room.
“Hello, Tylar, I’m Dr. Greyson, your treating physician. I’m glad to see that you’ve come around. You have been in a slight coma due to the head injury you sustained a couple of days ago. Your memory of that may be fuzzy, but it will come back in time. The fact that you came to indicates that the slight swelling in your brain is being reduced. It’s all part of the healing process.”
I nodded to let him know that I was listening.
“As for the bandage over your eyes, this was done as a result of a blow to your left eye. The injury is called an indirect orbital floor fracture, or ‘blowout fracture’. What this means, Ms. Preston, is that there is a small hole in the floor of the eye socket. Because you’ve been unconscious, we don’t know if there was any damage done to the surrounding eye muscles, which could affect your vision. I can go ahead and remove the bandage now, and we can test your vision, okay?”
I nodded again. I felt the bandage being unwrapped from around my head. There were two cotton pads resting against both eye sockets. The doctor removed those. I blinked my eyes several times, adjusting to the light in the hospital room. The doctor leaned over my bed, holding one finger up in the center of his face, in front of his nose.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Ms. Preston?”
“One,” I answered, hoarsely.
“Very good.”
He leaned over and took a pen light from his pocket, turning it on and shining it directly into each of my eyes.
“Dilation is occurring, that is good also.”
He put his index finger up again, asking for my eyes to follow its movement without moving my head. He moved it east to west, then north to south.
“Very, very good, Ms. Preston. It appears that you have no damage to the muscles. We’ll do a more thorough eye exam post release. You will be here for a couple of more days. We’ll want to run a few more tests. For now, your immediate instructions are to get rest and eat healthy to gain
your strength back. Your throat will be sore for a few days more as the bruising heals. I will be back to check you in the morning.”
With that he left. I had no opportunity to ask any questions, though it was doubtful that I could have spoken anyway. I looked over at Denise, feeling helpless. She came over and sat in the chair next to my hospital bed. Just like old times I thought, wryly.
“Tylar,” she asked softly. “Do you remember what happened the night . . . well the night you got injured?”
I shook my head ‘no’.
“It’s probably just as well, at least for now, anyway. Listen, I have to go out for a couple of minutes, but I’ll be back, okay?”
I wondered if I should try to remember what had happened. Denise seemed to think I was better off not remembering, at least for now, why? Was it that horrible?
I tried to think of the last thing I could remember. I wasn’t even sure what day it was. I would have to ask Denise when she came back in. I looked around the hospital room. It was pretty much the same as the last one I was in. There were two vases with flowers in them. I wondered who had sent them. One was a large bouquet of beautiful red roses with baby’s breath intermixed. The other was a vase of carnations in fall colors with baby’s breath intermixed. Both arrangements were lovely.
Denise came back into the room just then.
“I had to call Trey to let him know the good news,” she said, smiling as if she knew something that I didn’t.
“He will be here shortly, and I will leave you two alone.”
She finished that sentence giving me a wink. What the hell was going on? I saw a pitcher of water on the bedside table.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I should have asked if you wanted some water. It would probably help your throat."
Denise filled the plastic cup with ice water, putting the straw in it and handing it to me. I drank from the straw and the cold water felt good on my throat. It hurt a little to swallow. I wondered if somehow my tonsillitis had returned. I finished the glass of water, Denise refilled it. It struck me to check and see if I had a catheter in. I looked under my bed sheet and blanket. (Damn!) I wanted that sucker out of me right now. I looked over at Denise.
“I’ll go down to the nurse’s station and ask,” she said. I was glad that Denise and I were able to communicate without talking. It came in very handy at the moment. A few minutes later Denise returned, with a nurse following here. The nurse pulled the curtain closed around my bed for privacy. She removed the catheter, taking the bag of yellow liquid with her, instructing me to use my call button if I needed help getting to the bathroom. I nodded my head affirmatively letting her know that I understood. She opened the curtain back up and left the room.
I had no clue what I looked like after the ordeal whatever it was that I’d survived. I brushed my hand through my hair. It felt kind of greasy. I looked over at Denise.
“It’s not that bad, honey,” she said, soothingly.
(Yeah, I bet!)
I wondered why Trey was coming at all. It seemed odd since he and I were as that say, so passé.
I had no more had that thought when in he walked. His gorgeous majesty was here. I would never tire of looking at him I mused. I was hoping that he hadn’t brought Charlotte along to rub it into my face.
Denise immediately vacated her chair next to my bed. She leaned over, giving me a kiss and gentle hug.
“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow, okay?” I nodded.
Trey took her place in the chair, sitting next to me, looking and watching me as if at any moment, I would burst into flames.
“I’m glad to see you awake, Tylar. You had us pretty worried. Are you able to talk?”
“A little,” I rasped.
“Well, I will try to make this so you don’t have to talk unless absolutely necessary, okay?”
“Denise mentioned that you had no recollection of what happened to you. Would you like for me tell you what happened?”
I shook my head 'yes.' I needed to know eventually. I’d rather hear it from Trey now than have some random dream later on down the road and get hysterical. How bad could it be?
“Okay,” he started, his smooth and silky voice played like music to my ears. “This past Wednesday night, close to midnight, Mark heard you screaming for help from your cottage. Mark apparently was in the stable, checking a wrapping he had put on one of Derringer’s legs earlier in the day.”
I remembered that Mark was worried about a muscle in Derringer’s hind right leg when we had worked out earlier.
Trey stood up now, starting to pace. He took his right hand, sweeping it through his hair; his other hand was in the pocket of his trousers.
“Mark of course ran to your cottage. The front door was locked, but your front window was opened. Someone had taken the screen out to gain entry. Mark climbed through the window. Luckily he got to your room in time . ."
Trey's voice broke off suddenly in anguish.
He turned away from me as if he didn’t want me to see the emotion on his face. He put both of his hands behind his head, clasping them behind his neck.
“He saved your life, Tylar. Charlie was on the bed, choking the life out of you. Mark got to him, pulled him off of you and beat the shit out of the maggot,” he hissed.
His anger was apparent.
“You were naked from the waist down. We didn’t know whether Charlie…”
“No!” I managed to squeal. “He didn’t . . . please say that he didn’t!”
It all came flooding back to me in that moment. I felt nauseated. He came right to me, sitting down on the bed, and taking my hand into his. Oh it felt so good to be touched by Trey again. My Trey. I had tears in my eyes. I remembered that night all too well now.