by A J Love
“But why wouldn’t she bring you your car back?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. Look, I gotta bounce. I’ll grab a cab. Can you tell her to call me?” He passes me her cell. “She left it here.”
I shake my head. She’s always leaving this lying around. “I’ll give you a ride.”
After I lock up the shop, we climb in the truck. I drop Jackson at home and make my way back to the apartments, a small ball of unease settling at the base of my spine. Something just doesn’t seem right. Layton always tells me what she’s doing, where she’s going. What if she got into an accident? Shit. It’s not like the hospital would contact me in any sort of emergency. I press my foot on the gas a little firmer, desperate to get home now and just see her there.
I search the car lot for Jackson’s car as I park, but don’t see it. The unease in me gets stronger, morphing into something more, something darker. I feel it rising as I climb from the truck and make my way to the building door, just in case she’s up there. A whimper halts my steps—so quiet, I almost missed it. Slowly, I turn my head to the direction of the communal trash cans at the side of the building. Something moves, the bags rustle, another whimper. I take a cautious step, already knowing in my heart what I’m going to find.
Please be wrong. Please, God, let me be fucking wrong.
A slip of ivory flesh catches my eye, and I’m moving before I even fully register what’s happening. I find her naked amongst the trash: bruised, broken, and barely conscious. Something cracks inside me, I feel it spilt me in half. My girl; my beautiful, caring, sweet girl, is lying before me with blood stains covering her. Someone’s hurt her, someone has done this to her.
“Baby, shit,” I kneel to her, pushing the rubbish off her, and trying to force myself to be calm. I rip my jacket off and carefully wrap it around her. The noise in my head is deafening me, suffocating, but I need to take care of her. I need to fix her.
Her eyes flicker open, the blue in them dulling. Every part of me screams inside my body, every cell on fire at what I’m seeing. “Stay with me, baby, stay awake. I’m going to call for help and we’ll get you to a hospital.”
She lifts her hand as I pull my cell out, almost knocking it out of my hand. “No,” she croaks, “no hospitals.”
“You need a doctor.”
Her eyes plead with mine as she tries to move, “I can’t,” her body gives way, she's unable to stand by herself, “I can’t.”
“Okay,” I gather her into me, lifting her gently. Shit, what am I going to do? “Okay.”
I carry her over to my truck, soothing her as I rush. She murmurs quietly, slow tears falling down her cheeks. I lie her gently on the back bench and climb into the front, adjusting my rear-view mirror so I can still see her. Frantically, I dial Grip as I speed out the lot, hoping he knows someone who can help.
He’s laughing as he answers, “Hello, my brother. Changed your mind and want to come party?”
“It’s Layton. Shit,” I curse, struggling to speak. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What’s happening?” His voice is serious, “Has something happened? Where are you?”
“I’m driving. I just found her. She’s hurt, man, Real fucking hurt and won’t let me take her to a hospital.”
“Bring her here. Get her here now and we’ll take care of it. I’ll make sure the gates are open for you.”
He clicks off and I toss my cell to the side. I check on Layton. Her eyes are closed but her chest is rising and falling.
“Keep breathing, baby,” I say, probably more to myself. “Just keep breathing.”
Grip is waiting at the door as I pull up. I don’t bother to park properly, or even turn the engine off. I know one of the guys will take care of that. I get Layton, and follow Grip inside the building, through the halls, and to a large room where some older guy is waiting. I glance around; it looks like a regular emergency room. Makes sense, I guess. The Rippers probably need medical assistance often.
“This is Doc,” Grip offers as I lie Layton onto the bed. “Shit, she’s a mess. What happened?”
I step back as the older guy goes to her and begins to check her over. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” My fist connects with the wall, the anger in me threatening to take over. I feel the heavy sludge of it filling me. “I found her like that by the apartment, tossed in the trash.”
“You both need to leave,” Doc says, “I need space.”
“No,” I all but growl. “Not fucking happening.”
“Thatch, man,” Grip puts his hand on my shoulder. “You need to let him work.”
I go to refuse again, but then I hear her voice and I forget everything. I go to her, take her hand as she slowly opens her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she rasps.
“We’re going to fix this, baby. The doctor needs to look at you now.”
Her eyes fill with panic, her head beginning to shake. “Not the hospital. Please, no.”
“You’re not,” I cup her cheek with my hand, my heart all but fucking breaking, “You’re not.”
She glances around her, her movements slow, before her eyes settle on the stranger in the room. The doc moves forward and sits beside her on the bed. “Hi, Layton, I’m Doc. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”
“You won’t tell the police?” she whispers, looking between him and me. “You won’t?”
Her eyes settle on me.
“I won’t.”
My steps are heavy when I leave her, but Grip is right. I need to give the doctor room to help her. I let Grip lead me to the bar area of the compound, then I pace the length of it repeatedly, like a bull ready to charge. Vaguely, I’m aware of the room clearing of people and just a few remaining. The ones that know her, that ones that want to know she’s okay. Please fucking be okay.
It feels like a lifetime, but finally the doc reappears, his face wearing the horror of what I already know she’s been through. He finds me in the small crowd and makes his way over. I sit, not fully trusting my legs.
He takes the chair opposite me and sighs, “She’s going to be okay, physically,” he says. “She has several broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a fractured eye socket, but somehow doesn’t have any major internal damage.”
“But she’ll be okay?” A small wave of relief moves through me. “She’s going to be okay.”
“Physically, yes. She needs lots of rest and to stay off her feet while she heals. She’ll want to get clean before I strap her ribs.”
“I’ll do it; and physically? What does that even mean?”
He glances around him, leaning in. “She’s been through an ordeal, Kane. She’s going to take a while to get over it. And there’s something else.”
No. Fucking God, no. Not that, please not that.
I grip the edge of the table, watch the way his eyes cut away to the rest of the room. “I found some heavy bruising on her thighs, some damage in that area,” he shakes his head. “She’s been sexually assaulted.”
“Fuck,” I curse, slamming my fist on the table.
“I’m not done,” the doc adds, looking right in my eye, “she’s a few weeks pregnant.”
I stop breathing.
Everything stills, disappears, fades away.
The rage seeps into my pores, like magma and just as destructive, as it embodies every cell inside of me. I don’t acknowledge what I’m doing, don’t really feel that I’m moving as the roar rips through me, the table flying across the room. The anger burns in me, exuding animosity like acid—slicing and potent. I grip something, I don’t know what, and hurl it across the room. A red haze has taken over me and I can’t get through it. I feel myself being slammed against the wall, feel the force of being pinned there. I fight it, desperate to annihilate, obliterate, and destroy, whatever the hell I can.
“Thatch,” Grip’s voice comes through, he’s shouting right into my ear. “She needs you, brother.”
Layton. Pregnant. Hurt.
I focus everything I have on her, see
her face in my mind and let it clear the fog. The haze clears, pushed out by something else, something stronger. Her. She infects every poisoned cell, lightens every dark corner until I can see clearly, until the bad isn’t so bad. I blink, shrugging myself out the hold Grip and Trev have on me.
“Where is she?”
Trev gets in my face, narrowing his eyes. “Before you step one foot in there, you need to get a fucking hold of yourself. This ain’t about you, and that poor girl in there, needs you to be a man right now. You got it? A fucking man.”
I nod. I know it. He moves, and Grip replaces him, his hand on my shoulder. “This changes nothing, brother. What’s been done to her doesn’t change who she is. Remember that.”
I push him away from me and growl, annoyed they feel they need to say this shit to me. I’m not some asshole that’s going to use the fact that she was fucking raped as an excuse to be an asshole. “Some fucking piece of shit putting his hands on her doesn’t make her any less mine,” I seethe, “it just makes me fucking angry.”
I leave them there and exit the room, stopping briefly to pat the doctor on the shoulder in a silent apology. “Does she know?” I ask.
He nods.
“And,” I gulp, “it’s okay?”
Again, he nods. “I don’t know how, but there’s still a heartbeat,” a small smile touches his mouth, “they’re fighters.”
I take a deep breath. Layton is pregnant. Fucking pregnant. How has that even happened?
“Kane?” I look to the side as I push through the doors and see Karie standing there, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She holds a bag out. “For Layton. Just some clothes and toiletries. She’s going to want to be clean. There’s a bathroom in there. I’ll make sure no one comes in.”
She dashes down the corridor before I can thank her. I carry on walking then pause when I’m outside the room, my pussy ass struggling to take the steps to be with her. What if she doesn’t want me? Irritated, I push open the door. Whether she wants me or not, she’s fucking got me. She’s laid on the bed as I enter, covered, thankfully, by a comforter. She’s staring up at the ceiling, her face still stained with her blood and tears. I have to swallow the quick flare of temper inside as I move to sit beside her on the bed. This shouldn’t have happened. I was supposed to take care of her, keep her safe. Cautiously, I take her hand, feeling her shiver. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I’m going to draw you a bath, baby.”
She tightens her grip on me. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispers, “I don’t want to be by myself.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Layton.”
She sniffs, a small sob escaping her. “I’m so sorry.”
Growling, I take her face in my hands, lock my eyes on hers. “Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong. Look at me, Layton. Look right into my eyes and see how serious I am. Do you see me?”
I hear her take a shaky breath, her hand reaching up to hold my arm. “I see you,” she takes a deep breath, steadying herself, “I fucking see you.”
“Just me. Just you.” Warily, I put my palm on her stomach. “Just us, okay?”
Her eyes close as she whispers, placing her hand over mine, “Us.”
I stand from the bed, grab the bag from Karie and move into the bathroom, keeping my eyes on her so she can see where I’m going. I start the water and then lift the bag from Karie. Inside are some things for her to wash with, chick stuff. I pour something that looks like the foam shit Layton uses at home into the tub, and place the shampoo and body wash I find on the shelf. I dig out the clean clothes and move back into the bedroom. Layton is watching me, her eyes still holding fear in them.
“I need to get you in the tub, get you clean.”
As if only just noticing, she looks down at herself as she pulls the comforter from her. Her eyes widen in alarm, her body beginning to vibrate. I place my hand gently on her hip, stilling her. Her gaze whips to mine, her head shaking. “I can’t, I can still feel it,” her breathing is rapid as she sucks in more air.
Shit.
I jump onto the bed and hover over her, lifting her head by her chin to look at me. “Baby, breathe. You’re safe. It’s just us, remember?” Her eyes dart to the closed door and then back to me again. “No one is coming in here, and I’m never leaving you alone again.”
“Promise?”
I put my forehead against hers, “I promise.”
I leave her again, just to shut the water off and then lift her gingerly from the bed. Her head falls against my chest, her fingers stroking my chest lazily. In the bathroom, I carefully lower her into the water. She hisses with the contact but let's herself settle back. I pour some of the body shit in my hands and begin the task of gently cleaning her.
“Kane,” she says, so softly, so fragile. She stills my hand with her own and presses it against her stomach. “Kane.”
“I know,” I reply, then drag my eyes up to meet hers. “I know, sweetheart.”
“I don’t know how. Must have forgotten to take my pill. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey,” I shake my head. “Don’t do that. Don't apologize for something like that. We’ll handle it.”
She nods slowly, closing her eyes. I distract my own rampant thoughts by focusing on her. On washing her, comforting her, fixing her. The rest? That can fucking wait.
Layton
I didn’t quite believe it when the doctor told me, but there it is.
I sneak a glance at Kane beside me. His eyes are on the screen, watching intently as the woman explains what everything is while moving the little machine around my pelvis. He’s so into this. I wish I could be too. I wish I could feel anything but this impending sense of doom. I wish I could wake up every morning and be excited about the little life I’m growing inside of me, the one we created, but I can’t. I’m scared for myself, and terrified for my baby.
We had to wait a couple of weeks for my body to mostly heal before we could arrange to come in for this, and then had to go through a round of tests to make sure it was all okay in there. Absently, I look down at my stomach, looking for any changes.
Noticing me, the sonographer laughs. “You’ve a few weeks yet before you’ll see the changes.” She stores the little handheld thing on the main unit and passes me paper towel to clean the gel from my stomach. “You’re currently just under eight weeks along, so it’s still early days, but everything looks how it should. I’ll see you again in a few weeks to check up, and I’ve asked a midwife to prepare a prescription for you for prenatal vitamins. She’s going to mail an appointment out for you to go see her in a couple of weeks.”
I nod, sitting up on the bed. Kane helps me shuffle off, my body still achy from its recent trip through hell.
He’s been great since everything happened: careful, understanding, sometimes even sweet. He says all the right things, does everything I need, takes care of me. Kane moved all my stuff into his apartment, told the building super to get fucked and even offered to kick Karl when I got a text to say I was fired for not showing up for work. He doesn’t know how to be around me, doesn’t know how far he can push me.
I know he’s desperate for me to tell him what happened, for me to tell him who hurt me, but I can’t. The fear of what they’ll do next, how they’ll ruin me further stops me. I rub my hand absently over my stomach as Kane leads me out of the room. I can’t let them hurt our tiny miracle. So, I keep it to myself. I lie and say I don’t know. But he’s not a stupid man, just a patient one.
I follow him out to the truck, watching him as he helps me onto the bench then moves around to get in the driver’s seat. He looks tired, worn out. I’m doing this to him, dragging him down with me. I’ve turned him into someone he’s not, making him work harder than he needs to because I’m incapable of stopping him. I’m letting him ruin himself because I can’t bring myself to stand up and fight for me.
And he’s not the only one. There’s a whole bunch of people who want to see me, check on me, comfort
me. I won’t let them, can’t bring myself to face them with the knowledge that they saw what I became. They witnessed it, they know. But it’s not fair. They helped, probably saved my life. Without them—again I look to my stomach—we wouldn’t have our second chance.
“Kane,” I say, keeping my voice soft and my nerves calm. “Let’s go see the guys and show them the scan picture.”
He looks at me, searching my face. “Are you sure?”
I nod, “Yeah. It’s time I got myself up.”
I clutch the picture as Kane drives us to the compound, trying not to think about the fact that the majority of people here saw me naked. Sensing my unease, Kane comes around the truck to me once he’s parked up. He opens the door, unclips my seatbelt and turns me to face him. He strokes his hand through my hair, pressing a kiss against my lips.
“Look at me,” he says, demanding. I raise my gaze to him, locking my eyes with his. This is what he does when he feels me going too far away, this is how he brings me back. “Who do you see?”
I focus on him, on the dark brown swirls in his eyes. I study them, lose myself to the emotion in them. He’s not hiding from me, he’s putting it all there for me to see, and despite everything, I smile small, “Just you.”
“That’s right. Come on.”
I let him help me down and then link my fingers with his as we head inside. I can hear the noise of them, the laughter, and clink of beer bottles. My steps falter a little as we reach the main doors to the bar where I know they will all be. I tighten my fingers in Kane’s hand. He looks at me, smiles, and I feel his strength sinking into me. With shaky legs, I follow him through the doors.
It’s Grip who sees me first, practically dropping his bottle on the bar and rushing over to me. He pulls me into him, softly, before kissing the top of my head. “We’ve missed ya, darlin’.” Putting his arm around my shoulders he brings me over to one of the tables, pulling a chair out for me. “Sit yourself down there and I’ll get you both a drink.”
I sit on the bench, Kane sliding in beside me and resting his hand on my leg. I feel faint tingles from the contact, and will it to get stronger, but my usual anticipation and need for him has gone. It's not him, my feelings for him haven’t changed. He still makes my heart crazy when he looks at me, still causes the flutters in my stomach when he’s around, but I haven’t let him touch me. Not in the way I wish he could. I’m scared sex with him will feel too much like what happened. I’m scared I’ll touch him and it will be Rick in my head. He doesn’t deserve that, doesn’t deserve to have me freak out below him. Kane deserves to have my attention on him, and him alone. I’m just hoping that one day, I can give that to him again. For now, I snake my arm under and along his, and link our fingers together. I just want to feel him, and only him.