The Hitchhiker

by Charlie Lee

  “Rachel.” I stand, my eyes blinking profusely, adjusting to the blinding light streaming behind the open door.

  “Oh, honey. Come here,” she says, arms stretched out wide.

  I go to her without any hesitation. The sound of the door shutting ehoes in this dimly-lit office.

  “Have you heard anything. Is he alright?” I cry on her shoulder.

  I’m struggling to put all the pieces back together. It’s all a fuzzy blur that won’t clear in my mind. I have this bandage covering my cheek, am wearing a pair of scrubs, and I don’t remember how, when, or where that took place. The last thing I recall is Curtis helping me get ready. That he would take care of everything. I know he will, but he can’t take care of Katch. He can’t bring him back to me if he’s dead.

  “I haven’t. I can tell you that Brick is going to be okay. He was shot in the hand and hit in the back of his head.”

  “Oh.” I completely forgot about Brick.

  “Sit down. I brought you some coffee, clothes, and something to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I take the coffee from her hand and lightly sip it.

  Rachel grips me by the hand and guides me back to the couch.

  “My mom?” I ask.

  “She’s here. They’ve admitted her.”

  “They?”

  “Snake and Trent,” she answers quietly.

  Her eyes are seeking me out in a way only a best friend can. She knows everything.

  “What about the cops finding out?” A slow smile curves at her lips. I have no idea what she finds funny right now.

  “Listen to yourself. For a minute there I thought I lost you.”

  “No cops, Caitlin. This is one of those situations where I’m not allowed to ask questions about what Curtis and the guys have done, and neither are you.” Of course, it is. It’s the one and only things Rachel gripes about.

  “Well,” I say, my head is surging with a perplexity of unanswered questions, but it’s coming back in full-force lawyer mode. “I hope they burn him alive.” I mean it. I want Vince to burn in hell right next to his so-called drug buddy. The dead, infamous Clarence Winslow.

  “There’s our girl. See, not lost.” She places her hand on my arm, rubs gently in a soothing motion.

  “I am lost. If anything happens to Katch, I’ll be lost forever.”

  “He’s going to make it. I know he is. You will, too.”

  “No,” I say. “I won’t be. Not even if he does survive. I don’t know who I am, Rachel. My life has been a lie. That man, Trent, he said he is my dad. Did you know that? My dad!”

  I bite out in the same fashion I would when I’m drilling a witness on the stand. She goes to speak, but I haven’t even started to let my frustrations expel from my system. They may be pointed at the wrong person, but right in this moment, if I don’t get this out, I’m going to lose my mind.

  “If this is true, then that means I lived under a roof for eighteen years with a man who was verbally abusive. He shaped me into a monster like him. He faked my mother’s death. He stole my identity and robbed me of my childhood. He killed me before I had a chance to live. How ironic is it that one minute, I’m this big-shot attorney, and the next, I’m withering away in the background all because of him?” My entire body begins to shake. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. Who to believe, what to believe, or even if I have the desire to believe anymore.

  “All of that may be true, but for you to sit here and tell me that you don’t know who you are is the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard in my life.”

  I snap my head, ready to strike back at her.

  “No. I listened to you, now you listen to me. You are loving, caring, and the strongest person I know. Stop for one second and take a look at everything that has happened to you this past month and tell me how many people you know would be sitting right where you are, waiting for answers on a man she loves? Not many, I can guarantee you that.” She pauses briefly. “And what if all this happening is actually a blessing in disguise? You’ve been given a normal life. One you get to choose the destiny to.”

  “You’re wrong. If I were strong, I would have jumped at the chance to get rid of my father. I didn’t need him to survive. I chose to stay. Me. I chose to let him dangle that proverbial carrot in front of my face. To tell me that the Winslow name needs to leave behind a mark. We need to be powerful. The best and the only way to do that is to stay focused. To sit back and slice anyone’s throat who dares to get in our way. That’s not a sign of strength, Rachel. That’s weakness in an Oscar-worthy performance.”

  “I’m not sure what lie is worse. The one I kept from you or the one that just spewed out of your mouth.” We both turn to see my mother sitting in a wheelchair at the entrance of the door. Trent is standing behind her.

  My jaw drops at the sight, while my mind still toys with the idea of all this being an elaborate joke with me being the punchline. I fight to turn away from the two of them who just uprooted and severed everything I held to be true, but my head moves too slowly. Trent wheels my mother closer to me.

  I spot the new-forming bruises outlining her delicate wrists and the rash around her lips from the tape. The price of her well-hidden secret. Years, I was loyal to the woman, dedicated to keeping her close to my heart, and I’ve spent hours warring with myself about her disappearance, and then all of this. Denial. It’s the one state where I can cope.

  She reaches out for my hand, but I recoil from her touch. It’s not welcomed in my life at this time.

  “I’m sorry, Caitlin.” Her voice hitches with deep-seated emotions. “You have to know I did what I thought was best.”

  I don’t look her in the eyes and barely absorb the words she speaks.

  “I know this isn’t the time with Katch’s condition, but I can’t lose you again. I was young and dumb. I chose the man who could offer me the world, but in the end, he destroyed everything right down to the core.”

  I raise my head to look past her and see Trent standing still behind her, taking the coward’s route.

  “I was on a rare vacation with a group of girls. I’d been with Clarence for almost two years. He was good to me then. I met Trent and fell in love with him. The secret and pressure wore on me. We spent the best weeks of my life together, until I had you.” She chokes her words on her tears this time. “I’d planned to move, to leave Clarence, to be with Trent, but there was no money or way of escaping his power and wealth. The only thing left of Trent was you.”

  I finally find my voice. “Doesn’t mean Trent is my dad. I’m assuming you were having sex with both of them.”

  My voice is cold and calculated. I’ve never spoken to my mother like this, and I can’t even find the energy to care. She’s lied to me.

  “We can talk more about this later. I just can’t lose you again.”

  Her plea is my final breaking point. Blinding rage boils up inside of me. It’s the wreckage of the last few months of my life and the realization everything was built on deceit. I rise slowly from the couch, feeling my cutthroat side coming to life with brutal force. My hands fly as I talk.

  “Later? Because later will make this easier, Mother? Are you fucking kidding me right now? If what you’re saying is true, then you allowed the fucking devil to raise and shape me, but yes, by all means, let’s talk about this later, or hell, who knows? Maybe even sweep it under the rug. It seems secrets are your specialty.”

  “Stop.” Rachel tugs on my arm until I’m sitting down. “This is no place. You can be heard outside this office.”

  Tears. White blinding tears roll down my face.

  “You’re right, Caitlin, but you’re going to listen to me, because I am not okay with you believing you’re weak. You are the strongest person I know.” She stands from her wheelchair to make a point. “Clarence had no time for babies. He wore condoms. After I had ended things with Trent and he moved away, I found out I was pregnant. Things were decent back then, and I wanted my baby to have the world, so I sta
yed and pretended for years.”

  The door creaks open, and we all turn to see Curtis, but his presence doesn’t stop my mother. She keeps her head held high and continues on.

  “The years passed and everything went horribly wrong. He was verbally abusive to me and started the head games with you. I sent you to the party that night as a rouse. I was packing our bags, planning to run. I’d found Trent on the Internet weeks before and re-connected with him. He was going to take us away, but I never made it. My death was faked with a burning car rolling over a cliff. Clarence was teaching me a lesson for lying to him. He knew where to hit me the hardest: you.”

  A deadly silence fills the office. Nobody speaks up for long moments. The bits of information begin to fall in clearly labeled bins in my brain. The picture is being pieced together one revelation at a time.

  “It’s all my fault,” Trent speaks up. “I tracked your mother down and waited until the opportunity struck to catch her alone. We started corresponding through letters because it was the only way she felt safe. I went wild with heartache when I read Louisa’s death notice. I had to get to you, Caitlin, but the more I researched, the more I knew things weren’t adding up. I vowed never to stop until I had you and Louisa with me. I moved here, got a job on the force, and started my investigation.”

  My mother sits back down in the wheelchair and drops her head. “Don’t shut me out, Caitlin. I know it’s all too much. An empire built on a foundation of deceit, but I’ll never regret it because of the courageous, determined, and strong-willed woman you are. I love you, Caitlin. God, I love you.”

  My spine finally gives out, hunching over in a heap. My forehead relaxing on the top of my thighs with utter defeat. I can see it all. It makes sense and is clear as day. Instead of the truth, my life was built on a delicate and fragile bed of lies, and now it’s all being torn away. I just can’t find it in myself to respond to her or Trent right now. There are no words capable of explaining the hollow feeling of my insides.

  “Let her have some time,” Rachel reassures my mother.

  The door soon opens and then closes. I can hear Curtis and Rachel embracing but remain in the safe cocoon of my own reality. It’s the only way of survival until I can be with Katch again. His dark, broody eyes will be my guide through this darkness, helping sort out the mess. He’s my opposite who will piece me back together.

  Chapter 23

  KATCH

  His dick is on her smooth, creamy skin. My body is bleeding out all over the floor. Her eyes boring holes in me, willing to choose life to win over death. I fought to move my arms with no result. The sick cunt is stroking himself over her, readying himself to rape her. His slick droplets of precum falling on her. Being forced to watch it all play out was nearly the death of me, not the bleeding hole in my gut.

  It was cold on the floor, my lungs heavy and not working right while drowning in my own pool of blood. Each time she fought back, a surge of energy and determination would shoot through me, but my fucking body was giving up on me.

  “Baby. Hey, it’s okay.” I hear her voice and feel her soft palm on my forearm.

  I fight to open my eyes, but they’re cemented shut. The steady stream of fucking beeps is a constant noise in the background. I need her to talk again. Her voice is the power I need to come back. I’ve never needed anything more in my life than to see her face, to make sure this voice is truly coming out of her feisty little mouth. And that right there is a reality; it’s the only thing I’ve ever asked for in my fucked-up life. I don’t deserve her. I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as Caitlin, and yet here I lie, stuck somewhere between heaven and hell with her voice ringing in my ear and her skin touching mine. If this is death, then it’s the worst form of torture I’ll receive.

  “I’m here, Katch. I’m here. We’re safe. I need you to fight for me, baby.” Her lips kiss me gently on the forehead. God, this has to be real. I need to open my eyes, to search, to feel, to see.

  “I can’t do this on my own. Please, God. I need him.” Fucking love floods my heart. It beats so fast I can feel it. She has to be here.

  My arms need to work, so I can reach up and hold her to me. So I can take away the pain that’s pouring out of her voice. The more I struggle to lift my arms, to move my lips, or turn my head, the louder the annoying fucking beeps get. They fill my head, causing it to roll in pain.

  I open my mouth to speak and can’t; it’s filled with a tube.

  “Katch. Oh, thank God. Don’t move, don’t talk. Relax, please. You’re going to be fine. You need to sleep and heal. I’m not leaving your side.” Damn right, she isn’t. Not for a very long time. If ever.

  I’m no fool; I know I’m lucky to be alive. To get a second chance with her. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lie here with my eyes closed. Not when I have no clue as to how long I’ve been out and what she’s been going through. Fuck, I need to battle to get back to her. I fight more and am met with a brick wall at each turn. I swear to God the only part of my body that isn’t numb is my brain, which won’t shut down, which won’t rest until I open my eyes and catch sight of her stunning greens.

  I hear Caitlin holler for a nurse, and then, all too soon, I’m drifting back into the darkness, filled with the vision of the one person I vowed to protect in danger all over again.

  ***

  The beeping is constant as is the ache controlling my whole body. Long gone is the numbness. It’s filled with the most excruciating pain I have felt in my life. As if my guts have been ripped out of my body.

  The last conscious thing I remember is hearing her speak, feeling her touch, and then nothing but those dark, haunted nightmares. The same thing over and over. It’s constant torture. I’m fucking over it. I need to hear, to touch, and to smell my girl.

  Her sweet voice is in the background now. She’s talking to someone in a hushed whisper. The steady stream of her voice my only solace to keep me from drifting back to the dark. Always the damn dark.

  “I can’t even begin to comprehend any of it, Rachel. My only concern right now is keeping my focus on Katch.”

  What the hell is she trying to comprehend?

  “It’s been nearly two weeks. She’s living in hell worried about you.”

  It’s been two weeks? What the hell? It’s no wonder Caitlin’s tone is filled with desperation. She sounds exhausted, and yet her fortitude rises above everything else.

  “I get that, I really do. I understand the whole fucked-up situation, but it doesn’t mean I’m ready to accept it and go for brunch on Sunday as one big happy family.”

  “You need to talk to her. Let her know that you love her.”

  “I’ve told her time and time again that I just need time. She knows I understand all of it, and to be honest, I’m not bitter or pissed. I’m hurt, Rachel. I don’t get fucking hurt. Don’t even begin to know how to deal with those emotions. I need time.”

  Her mother. Caitlin knows the truth. The letter. It was in my back pocket when all of this went down. Someone has to have it. Faint visions flood my mind of a man, tall and dark, screaming for Vince to get off her. Was that him? Her biological father who ended up saving her? If it was, I owe him my life if the power of God will allow me to wake up.

  I feel a light squeeze on my hand. That skin-to-skin contact zapping me in my chest.

  “And I need Katch to come back to me.”

  I’m trying, Hollywood. Fuck, I’m trying.

  “He is, Caitlin. Katch is gaining strength every single day. The doctors are amazed. You think you’re ready to deal with that pissed-off man when he wakes up? He’s going to be bloodthirsty.”

  Damn right, I am. The first thing I’m doing after I tell her how I feel is asking for Curtis. I want to know what the hell happened. The details that these women will never find out.

  “I need it,” she whispers.

  The desperate timbre in her voice forces me to open my eyes. The blinding light sends electric shocks to the back of my skull, cau
sing me to wince in pain. It’s too painful to keep them open.

  “Katch.”

  I try again over and over to adjust my eyes, blinking the white coating covering my pupils, each time catching a glimpse of her outline and gorgeous fucking hair. The sight of her is enough to power through the pain. I’d walk through hell and back for this woman.

  This time, my eyes remain open. I clear my throat slightly and try out my voice. The pain is almost too much to bare. It feels as if someone has shoved spools of barbed wire down my throat.

  “What fucking day is it?” I wince, the raw pain slicing through every part of my body.

  “Holy shit,” Caitlin squeals, my body locking up. My stomach clenching. “Rachel, please go tell them he’s awake. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She speaks in a hushed whisper, softer this time.

  Her sweet lips are all over my face, kissing me passionately. I reach up with my arm to run my finger down the healing cut on her face. It causes an immediate pain to thunder in my abdomen, but the feel of her skin on mine dulls it.

  “It’s…um, shit I don’t know what day it is. You’ve been out for almost two weeks.”

  “Need your sweet ass up here.” The hint of my signature growl makes it back to my voice.

  “Baby”—she cradles my face—“you’re hurt and have so many tubes and shit going everywhere.”

  “I said, get your sweet fucking ass up here now.”

  Caitlin listens this time, moving carefully until she’s nestled into my side.

  “Don’t quit touching me,” I demand.

  “Never. I was so scared.” She runs her fingers through my beard. “I need you.”

  “Need to be inside of you to wash that shit away.”

  She leans up enough to peer down at me. “Don’t. We can’t take steps backward. We have to move forward together. We can heal each other.”

  “Welcome back, Mr. Kensington.” A woman wearing scrubs saunters in, followed by Rachel.

  I’m about ready to tell her there ain’t no Mr. Kensington in this room when I feel a slight pinch on my arm. I glance up at Caitlin. Her smirking emeralds are telling me to keep my mouth shut. It all clicks into place. Regardless of the fact that my identity needs to remain hidden, I am going to kick the shit out of Zeke Hartley, otherwise known as Doctor Hot Pants or whatever the hell she calls him, for giving me a name that’s as bad as Winslow.