by Kate Morris
“Why? We need to call the police. Wren shot our principal. He was…he was trying to rape her. He beat her up pretty bad.”
His cold eyes became even darker and more severe, then he put a pan of hot water on the stove and turned it on to high.
“I’ll be the one asking questions here tonight. I don’t have a lot of time or patience, so don’t piss me off.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. No wonder she was the way she was if she lived with this man. He was about as tender and caring as a granite boulder.
“Tell me what you saw. Tell me in detail.”
Elijah explained it as best as he could. He also said that he couldn’t understand why their principal had fixated on Wren because she was new and really quiet in school. That made her uncle’s mouth twitch at the corner as if he were happy to hear it. She had no friends. He couldn’t understand why this man wouldn’t want her to make friends in a new school.
“Wren is a very innocent girl,” her uncle said. “Men like that principal will always zero in on someone like her. They can smell innocence on a person a mile away. He’s a predator.”
“Oh,” Elijah said stupidly.
“I hear I work with your brother, Alex Brannon?”
“Yes, sir. I believe so.”
“And he’s now sick?”
Elijah frowned. “Yes.”
Her uncle didn’t say anything. He just nodded. Most people would’ve offered sympathy or prayers or anything. He just offered a single nod. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but Elijah realized this man was not now, nor was he ever going to be a friend.
He brought the pan of hot water over to the table and set it down on a pot-holder.
“Take off your shirt. Let me see what I’m dealing with.”
“Do you have medical experience, sir?”
“I ask. You answer. Remember?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Her uncle probed the wound with a long, silver instrument that looked like something from a surgical suite in a hospital. As a matter of fact, most of the stuff in the plastic box looked like medical-grade stainless-steel hospital-style instruments and bandaging and tape. Her uncle sniffed and stood up.
“You need a couple stitches. Nothing’s severed.”
“Stitches?” Elijah asked. He’d had his fair share of stitches in his time growing up with two brothers who also shared a love of sports. They’d been administered in a hospital, not in the kitchen of someone’s trailer.
“My coach is gonna lose his shit. I’m supposed to start Friday night.”
“I doubt you’ll have to worry about that.”
“Why?”
“Another question?”
Elijah allowed his gaze to fall. “Right. Sorry.”
Wren came into the kitchen wearing clean clothing and her hair in a towel as her uncle injected something into the skin around his wound. The pain almost instantly dissolved, so it must’ve been some sort of anesthesia, which made Elijah speculate where he got it.
“Give me a hand,” her uncle said to her. “Lie down on the table, Elijah.”
He looked at the rickety old table and wondered if it would even hold his weight.
“Now,” the man said impatiently. “I don’t have all night. I have a lot to do still.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wren, hold him still.”
“Got it,” she said and pressed down on Elijah’s forearm and shoulder with her hands.
Her uncle’s phone rang, and he answered and volleyed back and forth with the person on the other end of the line. “Foster. Yes, I’ve got her. There was a problem. Yes, I’m handling it. No, I don’t need you to send anyone yet. We may need a little sweeping at the site. I will. Yes, sir.”
He hung up and pulled on latex gloves from a box of them in the plastic box.
“Wren, use the cotton pads and sop up the blood as I go.”
“Yes,” she answered.
It was the most painful ten minutes of his life even with the Novocain or whatever he’d injected. He gritted his teeth, swore a few times, thought he might puke or pass out or both, and finally expelled a tightly held breath when they announced they were done.
She helped him to a sitting position again and laid her hand on his chest.
“Just sit, Elijah,” she said calmly. “I don’t want you to pass out.”
“I’m okay. I think.”
“Where exactly in the school did this take place?” her uncle asked as he stripped the rubber gloves he’d put on and tossed them in the trash.
“By the Chemistry Lab room,” she answered. “It was more like a storage closet or something. Blood trail going out of it to the right. You’ll need a swipe card to get in, and mine doesn’t have that kind of access granted.”
“I do. Why do you need to go there? Are you meeting the cops?” Elijah asked.
“More questions, Mr. Brannon?” her uncle asked, to which he shook his head and got down from the table. “Give me your card.”
“Sure. I mean, I can go back there with you…”
“You’ll be staying here until I get back. Don’t even think about leaving…”
“I was actually wanting to go to the hospital tonight to see my brother.”
His dark eyes scanned Elijah from head to toe and sized him up in a flash.
“We’ll see. Get him in the shower. Get him clean clothes.”
“Yes, sir,” Wren said to him. “Be careful.”
He nodded, leaned in, and kissed her forehead, and said, “Locks. We don’t know where he went, but he knows about this place. I guarantee it.”
Wren gave a curt nod.
“Don’t open the door for anyone, not even the police. Call me if they show up. He could flip this on you. If they show, call, leave, get out. Meet at the spot. You got me?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
Her uncle charged like a bull back to his bedroom and came out a minute later with a big rifle, a tactical vest that was probably bulletproof or looked like it, and a pistol strapped to his waist. He looked like he was going to war.
He stopped to look at Elijah. “The only reason you’re still alive is because you saved her. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
With that, he left. He wasn’t much of a talker, but that seemed like a threat. However, he did seem to care for her.
Wren led him to their bathroom and started the hot water in the shower for him.
“Your shirt’s ruined,” she said. “I’ll lend you one of Uncle Jamie’s. I can wash your jeans. There’s blood on them.”
He looked down as steam filled the bathroom and saw what she meant.
“Sure. Thanks. I can just wear them home and get fresh clothes there.”
“You can’t leave.”
“Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t think that your uncle telling me I can’t leave is going to make me stay here. He may be in charge of you…”
“Elijah, don’t,” she warned. “You don’t understand. Do you even have any comprehension of where he just went?”
His eyes narrowed as he remembered the man leaving with guns. Wren saw his frown and explained. So many things were happening so fast, it was a blur.
“He’s going to do what he does. He’s going to hunt down and kill Principal Russo. He’s going to clean up the mess at the school and get that phone, too.”
There was something about the difference between just suspecting and knowing for sure that made it so much more real. Her uncle was actually leaving to go commit murder as if he were just dashing out to pick up a pizza. In body armor and guns.
“I’ll just wash your jeans, okay?”
It was then that he actually looked at Wren. Her uncle was right. There was an innocence that permeated from her. Those aqua eyes had seen things, but it hadn’t changed what was still inside, which was purity and innocence. She put off a tough vibe. The hoodie pulled down, her hair always in her face, the dark-rimmed eyes and drab,
baggy clothing. She was tough. He’d seen her in action in the cafeteria today. But she was still in desperate need of protection.
And the bruising he saw on her face, her neck, her thin arms and probably other places made him want to follow her uncle to hunt down that sick bastard of a man they called their principal.
Elijah reached out and stroked gently over her bruised and purpling right cheekbone. She leaned away from his touch.
“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to hold her. He didn’t care about their fight, her hating him, their disagreement, and her secrets. He just wanted to take her in his arms and keep her safe, but he knew she didn’t want the same.
Her chin lifted, and those mint-blue eyes narrowed. “I’ve been through worse. Just toss your clothes into the hall, and I’ll wash them. I’ll leave you clean ones.”
Worse than this? How? He didn’t ask her, though. She left, and Elijah stripped and showered. The water hitting his new wound stung a little. It was nothing, so insignificant compared to her bruises and scrapes and what she’d suffered today. He didn’t even care if he missed the game Friday night. It was worth it. If he had it to do again, he would. First figuring out how to use the pistol would’ve also been a good idea, too.
When he finished, Elijah found a small stack of clothing sitting outside the bathroom door. He pulled on the black sweatpants and clean t-shirt and turned off the light and shut the door with the exhaust fan running. He didn’t immediately find her. He could hear music playing at a low decibel coming from the kitchen area. It was classic rock.
She’d turned off most of the lights in the trailer, so it was pretty dark. Elijah’s eyes locked onto her standing near the front window in the living room. Next, he noticed the pistol on the stand beside her. She was silhouetted by the moonlight coming through the window and the shadows around her. She had her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were cold. Her hair wasn’t in a towel anymore, so she must have blown it dry while he was in the shower. He was pretty sure it was the first time he’d ever seen her without a ball cap on or a hoodie pulled down low over her forehead. Most of the time her hair was braided, wrapped in a coil, or a ponytail. Her hair nearly touched her waist, it was so long. The ends curled, and the rest was wavy and a little frizzy. She was wearing a long-sleeved white t-shirt that made her dark hair stand out against it. She was also wearing black yoga pants. Unlike most of the girls in his school, she didn’t seem to have a lot of clothing. She wore the same things all the time. She didn’t wear her jeans so low slung that they revealed a lacey thong. Most of her jeans looked like they’d seen better days and were ripped and faded. She didn’t wear cropped tops to better expose her flat stomach, although she would’ve looked cuter in one than most of the girls in school. He’d seen the small box of clothes in her closet when he had spent the night. It wasn’t much. She definitely packed light.
Elijah approached cautiously. When he got closer, she looked over her shoulder and quickly wiped at her cheeks. She was crying.
She sniffed and turned back to her pose of staring out the window with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She was erecting a wall between them, the same one that was always up. That much was clear. She wanted him to go away. He could tell that by her body language. All she’d done since he’d met her was build walls and barriers against him getting in. Elijah stepped closer and carefully, very slowly enfolded her entire torso in his arms from behind. A tremor rippled through her. He tried to absorb it into his own body. He didn’t want this girl, not at all, not sexually, not to be his girlfriend or even his friend. She was a liar, and he hated liars. Plus, he didn’t need the hassle right now of girls. However, his mind wasn’t communicating with his feelings center because Elijah didn’t want her to cry. It made something primitive and protective awaken inside him. He wanted to take her pain, switch places with her. He’d never felt something so all-consuming like that about another human being before. When his mother was sick, he just wanted the doctors to fix her. He’d never considered himself as a person who could’ve helped her. He never thought about her like he did about Wren. This girl, this damn, annoying, intriguing, lying new girl brought out something completely different inside of him, and it scared the shit out of him. After this, distance was what he needed from her. However, just the thought of that also made him feel a little sick, so he was pretty much screwed.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered and nuzzled his cheek against the side of her head, trying to do anything to make her feel better. He didn’t have a whole lot of experience with this sort of thing.
Wren surprised him when she turned in his arms and threw herself against his chest where she clung to him and cried. Elijah stroked her hair, her back, her shoulders, anything he could to make her feel better and take away her pain, the pain of whatever Russo had done to her before he found her naked, scared and hurt on the dirty floor, tied there.
“Don’t cry,” he cooed gently and cupped both of her cheeks. Then he pressed his lips against her forehead. “Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Shit. What the hell was he doing? Sister. Yeah, that would work. He’d put her in a sister-like category, so he didn’t take anything too far with Wren.
Elijah pulled her close again and stared over her head out at the snow that had begun falling while he was showering.
“I’m here,” he whispered and kissed the side of her head, pressing his face into her thick hair. She smelled so good, like coconut tanning lotion. Sister. Yeah, right. That was a load of shit if there ever was one. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” Why did he say that? He’d just resigned himself to distancing himself from her.
He felt her stiffen in his arms again. Then she sniffed hard and stepped back.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands still on her shoulders.
Wren stepped away three more paces. “I am. I mean, I am going.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you’re not going anywhere. I am. Next week. Probably sooner now. We’re leaving,” she said, frowned and winced from the pain of it.
“Leaving, as in moving?” he asked and got the answer he didn’t want to hear. “Where?”
She shook her head, “I can’t tell you. Elijah, I told you it was like this for me. I should’ve never talked to you. Jamie has warned me for years…”
“For years? You’ve lived like this for years?”
“Yes, we move around a lot. Wherever he says we’re moving, that’s where we go. Whenever he says, that’s when it happens. I have to. I don’t have a choice.”
“Why? Is your uncle on the run? Is he a criminal?” he asked, to which she went to the sofa table and plucked two tissues to blot her eyes and nose. “Why?”
“We should eat something. Shock can drain the body. Sugar and some carbs will help calm our nerves.”
Elijah rushed in front of her on her way to the kitchen. “Don’t do that, Wren. Don’t shut me out.”
She didn’t want to look at him, so instead, her eyes skittered from place to place on the floor around them.
“Please,” he implored softly and touched her unbruised cheek.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
She shot him a more controlled look, an almost aggressive, challenging one. Wren could turn that shit on with a switch. “Why do you care? You’ve got plenty of other fish in the sea for the plucking right here in your silly little town.”
Elijah didn’t back down. He knew exactly what she was doing. Her tough exterior, nasty disposition, and defensive mechanisms weren’t going to help her this time. He had her number now, and he wasn’t going to get dismissed again.
“Don’t care. Doesn’t matter. I don’t want the other girls. I only want you,” he admitted, throwing his cards on the table for her to see. He didn’t care, either. His mouth was saying things his brain couldn’t control. Elijah knew that they were somehow linked. He didn’t necessarily understand it, but God or fate or whatever it was called had placed
Wren in his path. He wasn’t backing down now.
“Could’ve fooled me,” she challenged.
“How? I haven’t gone out with a single girl this school year, not since you came into my life. I’m not interested in anyone else.”
“So?”
“So-were?” he teased about her accent. “Or is it sew-ewe? Your accent’s hard to mimic.”
She didn’t find the humor and sliced him with a look.
Elijah let it drop and said, “I know you like me, too. You don’t exactly have a ton of friends, and beggars can’t be choosers. We’ve been through some shit, too. We stick together, we make it out of these bad situations. We get separated, and it goes bad. Like today. I’m glad I could be there for you, but if you hadn’t pushed me away, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Wren interjected and finished his sentence, “Today, I made a mistake. Plain and simple. I wasn’t on guard.” She looked up at him and seemed to be wrestling with something. Then she added, “Actually, I think it’s because I’ve been hanging out with you too much. You’re making me soft.”
“Uh-huh,” he said with a tolerant smirk and took her hands in his. “I find it hard to believe you think hanging out with me is a mistake.”
She yanked her hands back. “You’re so full of your own self-importance, Golden Boy.”
He looked over the length of her at his leisure. It was then that he noticed her white shirt had a blue wave on it. The design on the front reminded him of the tattoo he’d seen on her back.
“No, I’m not. I just know what I know,” he said, continuing to stare at her. She was easy to look at. He could do it all day. Dammit.
“You don’t know anything. You’re just a dumb jock with too much confidence.”
He snared her gaze with his own and ran his eyes over her wounds. It bothered him so much that their principal hurt her like this. He wanted to hold her again. Dammit, more.
“You…” Wren paused and stared down at her feet. “You didn’t even return my texts,” she pointed out softly and appeared angry for having to admit it.