I come and go, but I never leave the hospital parking lot.
Let her be okay. Let her be okay. Goddamn it, let her be okay.
“If you’re listening up there, I don’t believe in this shit. But she’s too damn important to leave it all up to fate. So I’m asking. If you’re up there, don’t let her die. You gave her to me. You put her in my life, you can’t just take her away now. Don’t fucking take her away from me. I need her too damn much.” I rear my fist back and slam it into the steering wheel. Nobody is listening, and I feel like a fucking idiot for thinking so.
The driver’s seat of my truck becomes my mattress, but I don’t sleep. I have my eyes closed, my arms folded across my chest, and I’m planning. Plotting. My mind races. It’s around five a.m. that I head back inside again. Her family is gone. Taking my chances with a new set of nurses, I luck out when one of them gives me the okay to head to her room.
“Five minutes.”
That’s all she gives me. But it’s five minutes more than I’ve gotten since they brought her here. I plan on taking advantage of every second.
My emotions nosedive when I see her. So damn small on that hospital bed. Fragile, broken, wires and tubes coming out of her body. All I want to do is pull her free and hold her to me. But I know if I do I’ll only hurt her more. It’s a physical ache seeing her like this. I feel the wound deep inside my chest. I walk to her side and blink fast, breathe faster, and swallow around the lump forming in my throat. She’s all banged up. Covered in so many bruises. My hand shakes so fucking badly when I reach for hers.
“Hey…” This is one of my worst fears. Failing to protect her like I said I would. If I’d kept her with me…followed my instinct, and told her to stay rather than do what was right and drop her off, that coward wouldn’t have done this. But then it hits me how stupid that logic is. If he hadn’t done it today, he would’ve done it another day, another time, or whenever the hell he felt like it. Abusers aren’t dictated by time.
“Open your beautiful eyes and look at me, Aylee.” I lean down to gently kiss both her swollen eyes, and that physical ache, that wound, rips further open, stretching wide to show the raw meat of torment I feel for her. Nothing and no one has ever broken through the wall of anger and numbness inside of me.
I can’t even remember the last time I cried for myself or anyone else. I don’t remember crying when my mother blew her head off and even before that while suffering the fucker’s abuse. I am not the one who cried. Noah cried. I raged. But my anger bows in the face of Aylee’s injuries. Anger I know. I can handle it. I can use it. I don’t know what to do with this sadness. It makes me feel weak, powerless, and fucking I hate it. “Aylee?” I whisper her name like it’s my own little prayer, my forehead pressing to hers, and I interlock our fingers and grip her tight because…she’s my lifeline. “You need to wake up and give me purpose again. I didn’t know I was missing something until you came and filled me with you. You’re curled up inside of me now. I’m no good at this shit, Aylee. But I need you to know I’m living for you now. So I need you to wake up and give me a future. Because you’re it.” My eyes slam shut but it’s not enough to keep my tears from falling. I grit my teeth against the sorrow, fight it like it’s an enemy. But it wins. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lips to lips, I let the tears come. I feel no shame. With her, there’s no shame. I breathe her in. Breathe for her. Breathe for me. Because there’s no me without her. “I love you.” I breathe it against her lips. “I love you so damn much, Aylee.” When I feel the smallest twitch of her fingers trying to squeeze mine, I know she hears me. Keeping our fingers interlocking tightly, I bring hers to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles.
Her eyes don’t open. She doesn’t wake up. But I know she knows I’m here. I can feel it, down to my bones. The nurse comes in five minutes later, and it takes everything I have in me to drag myself away from her bedside. Before I do, I take her in, memorize every single bruise and swollen part of her body. I imagine the sort of agony she went through, imagine the terror she felt when he held her down, the tears she cried when he violated her body. I take it all in and lock it away. Reference for later.
When I leave her side, it’s with the acid fuel of vengeance coursing through my veins.
I’ve got Willkie and Wynn both texting me. The former wants to know where the hell I am, and the latter is asking questions she should already have answers to. But neither of them are my priority. I’ve got a plan, a one-track mind, and the cop is in my tunnel vision. I won’t focus on anything else until I do what I need to. I peel out of the hospital parking lot, making my way to their house, and park my truck a few blocks away. They have a shed out in the back of their house. I make myself comfortable. No food. Just a bottle of water I use to keep hydrated. An entire day passes, night falls, and I wait until the very last possible second before I come out of the shed with my sledgehammer dangling at my side and other tools in my jean pockets. Heading to the electric box cover hanging on the back panel wall of the house and digging into my pocket, I use the pliers in my hand to break through the lock before slipping them back inside my back pocket. I give it a brief once-over. Opening the box, I pull at all the wires until I’m sure I’ve got them all. There won’t be any light when I get inside. Aylee’s foster mother and sister are at the hospital. I saw them leave a bit ago and they haven’t come back. It doesn’t really matter, because I’m not planning on staying too long. I know the cop is home and he’s all I want anyway.
Jimmying the back door lock isn’t a problem. I’m inside. I should be a little nervous entering the house of a cop, but I’m pretty fucking calm. I hear footsteps and I duck around the kitchen wall. He’s getting closer...closer…probably coming to check on the circuit box. I wait for him, my grip around my sledgehammer strong and tight. He walks past me and I come out behind him swinging, aiming for the back of his right knee. He falls down with a roar and it’s a sound I plan on making last.
“People like you shouldn’t be allowed to exist,” I utter quietly while pulling my phone out from the other back pocket. A quick search in my apps and I find what I’m looking for. The kitchen is suddenly flooding with pure, bright white light from the flashlight app. I set my phone down on the kitchen table before returning my attention to Tim. “You think you can hurt innocent people, children, and just get away with it? And you probably did for a while. This whole time you probably thought you fucked with Aylee’s mind so much that she would never tell anyone about what you did.” The asshole starts to move. He’s trying to crawl away. But I’m not close to being done with him yet. I raise the hammer and slam it down with full force on his kneecap, more than likely shattering the bones from the way he screams. “But you underestimated her, Timmy Boy. She told me everything.” I watch him fall back onto the tile floor, taking in gasping breaths, his face scrunching up in pain.
“Wha…what the fuck…do you…want?” I can barely make out the hiccupping words, but I get the gist of it.
“I want you to know that you’re not getting out of here alive. If you do, you’re gonna wish you were dead.” I approach him, and he still has a voice to scream when I kick at his feet, spreading them in opposite directions. I bring the hammer between his legs, right up against his dick and nut sac, and I press down with all my might. “I want you to feel every single bit of pain she felt, you fucking bastard.”
I go for his arms and hands next. Crushing elbows joints and all ten beefy fingers like I’m tenderizing meat.
He can’t move now. Sure, he’s twitching, flopping around like a fish out of water, but he’s not going anywhere. A close look at his limbs shows just how badly they’re all mangled, and shattered to pieces. There’s only screaming, cursing, and blubbering.
I set the sledgehammer against the kitchen counter and pull out my jaw pliers. Dropping down to my haunches in front of Tim’s body, I flip them in the air and catch them with a grin. “You know, while I was waiting for it to get dark, I watched some videos online
on how to castrate animals. Now I have to tell you, I’m a pretty good study, but there’s definitely a chance I’m going to mess up. Not because I don’t know what I’m doing, but because you hurt her.” I remove his pants, tugging them down his legs, and apply the pliers to his balls and crush down while yanking my hand back. I do the same with his limp dick. If I had a say, this is would be the universal punishment for every child molester and rapist in the world.
When I’m done I stand, looking down at his unmoving body, and I get a flashback of my father’s corpse on that bed so long ago, and I feel…nothing. I’m ready to pull my SIG out of my truck and put him out of his misery with a bullet in his head, but I don’t. He’s as good as dead, anyway.
I really doubt he’ll recover from this. I got what I came for. Revenge isn’t as sweet as I thought it would be, but at least this motherfucker won’t hurt Aylee anymore. And that’s a win I’ll gladly take.
***
The phone rings four times before he picks up. “Hello?” It’s good to hear his voice.
“Noah.”
I can hear the frown in his voice. “Max? Why are you calling me so damn early?”
“Listen, you’re not going to hear from me for a while. I need you not to worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Seriously, Max, what the hell is going on? What did you do?”
I chuckle dryly. “What didn’t I do?” It comes out more self-deprecating than I intend. “I’m going away for a while. Take care of yourself, Noah.”
“Max! Maddox!”
Click.
He’ll be fine. He has his boyfriend there to make him forget all about his asshole twin brother. That’s what I want for Noah. For him to be happy and forget about me. I know he’ll be able to do that with me gone for a while.
It’s nearing four a.m. two days later and I’m sitting outside the hospital parking lot. I’ve taken care of a few things in the last forty-eight hours. The main thing was getting to my apartment before the cops did. I grabbed all of the money I’d stashed away and shoved it inside a duffel bag. I’ve been staying at Willkie’s because he’s the only one I trust. He’s been telling me about Dro’s case and the fact that the judge hasn’t set a bail yet. But I give him a good chunk of the money I have, so he can post bail if need be. I can’t do it myself because I figure the cops are looking for my ass by now. Officer Timothy Dean Bennett’s death has been all over the news. And I’m a prime suspect. So I’ve been keeping a very low profile. But I know I need to get my ass in gear. It’s only a matter of time before they find me. Which is why I’m here. I’m about to do something very selfish.
***
Aylee
I come awake in a world where Tim is dead and I know I might go to hell for finding the greatest joy in that. Rachel is by my bedside, where she’s been since I woke up five hours ago. She’s been sobbing on and off since then. I haven’t shed one lonely tear. She’d described in very graphic detail the shape of Tim’s corpse when they’d found him broken in pieces on her pristine kitchen floor. When she said Sarah had been the one to find him first, my heart broke for my sister. That was going to scar her for a lifetime. But I don’t bother to ask how it happened, because deep down, I know.
Currently, she’s sitting to right. “Is Sarah still at Emily’s house?” I ask hoarsely; my throat still hurts. The painkillers they give me every few hours has practically numb all my pain except for the strain I put on my vocal cords.
Rachel sniffs and nods. Right now she’s not at all put together. Blotchy face, messy hair, and wrinkled clothes she’s slept in doesn’t really add up to the Stepford wife image she usually strives for. She looks normal this way. Human. Approachable. “Emily’s parents will take care of her for now. I think it’s best.”
“Yeah.”
We return to silence. “God, I can’t believe he’s gone,” she moans, running a shaky hand through her strawberry blond hair. “What am I going to do?” When she stares at me it’s as if she expects me to have the answers. Suddenly I feel more the adult than she’s supposed to be. It’s not a responsibility I want to bear.
I sigh. “You’ll get through it.” It comes out too harshly, and automatically I try to soften my tone. “We’ll get through it.”
“Oh, God, Aylee.” And she reaches for my hand on the bed and squeezes it. “We’ll do this together.”
“Did you know?” I ask unexpectedly, catching myself and Rachel off guard.
She frowns. “Know what?”
“That your husband had been molesting me. I’ve never said anything to you but I need to know if you knew.”
She looks away, withdrawing her hand from mine. “Aylee, please.”
I swallow hard around the thick lump in my throat that feels like resentment and tastes like bitterness. My tone grows quiet and angry. “You knew and you didn’t do anything.”
“I couldn’t.” She weeps, almost silently, staring at me with void, blue eyes that beg me to understand.
“You wouldn’t,” I correct.
“Aylee, sweetheart, I have no excuse. None. I knew. I knew what he was doing but I couldn’t stop him. I was a victim, too. He hurt me, too.”
I can’t argue that. Tim victimized her, too. And for that she has my sympathy. But what hurts the most, what makes me so sad and angry is that she knew what was happening and she did nothing. She’s the adult. She’s my parent. It’s her job to protect me, to keep me safe, and yet she’d failed so badly that I don’t even know if there is a way to come back from it all. How can I move on and heal when just looking at her now makes me ill? Tim is gone and yet when I look at Rachel I’m reminded of all the horrible things he did. Including my rape.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head to clear away the flashbacks and the tears stinging my lids. “Yeah, he did.” I agree only because I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with all of these emotions just yet. It’s just too much. I open my eyes and gaze over at her. “I’m tired.” And I don’t just say it to get some space from her. I’m extremely exhausted.
She sniffs, wipes the tears from her own cheeks, and nods. “You should get some sleep. Visiting hours are almost over, anyway.” She stands and fusses with my blankets, needlessly smoothing and tucking them around my legs and upper body. I let her do this because the more I look at her, the worse I feel. Her entire life has been flipped upside down. It must be jarring to face reality when she’d lived in denial for so long. She’s not a bad person. She’s just weak. We were both made to feel weak. She has no one now. There’s Sarah, but Sarah is just a child. A child who will probably grow up with her own demons. Rachel is alone. I think about her returning to that sad, lonely house filled with too many bad memories and now a crime scene, and I feel sad for her. Catching her hand when she reaches to fluff my pillows, I squeeze it.
“We’ll get through this. We’ll be okay.” My bruises are a quick and painful reminder that I can’t smile. We hug and she holds on too tight and for too long, but I say nothing. And then she’s gone and I’m left alone.
Letting out a long sigh, I raise my hand to tuck my hair behind my ear when my eyes land on the bracelet around my wrist. Maddox’s bracelet. Mindlessly, I trace it with the fingertips of my other hand. Has he come to see me? I can’t even imagine what I look like, but the thought of him seeing me this way is heartbreaking. I’m sure he was here. I remember hearing his voice from some distant part of my altering state of consciousness. Or maybe I imagined it?
I lie down and rest. Not really sleeping but somewhere in between slumber and wakefulness. My heart knows only the syllables of his name and so it beats longingly for him. And as if luck is finally on my side, he appears, conjured up by my sheer will alone. The tiniest of sounds calls my attention across the room. The lights in my room are dim, set low, so I can’t really see the features of the shadowy figure quietly closing the large wooden door of my hospital room. But I’ve spent an innumerable amount of time looking at this guy, studying not just the breathtaking aesthetics of his fac
e, but his body as well. I know his features and his heart. I can pick him out blind in a crowded room. I’m the lock and he’s the key. Because in understanding him, I finally understand me. I accept all that is me. How could I not recognize the other half of my heart?
I squint my eyes. “Max?” I jolt forward in the bed, my hasty movements causing me pain, but I don’t care. I pull the blankets from my legs and just as I’m twisting to the side about to jump off, I realize the IV bag I’m attached to won’t let me go too far. But he’s there before I can miss him. He has me in his arms, my head on his chest, and his hand through my hair. Ecstasy isn’t simply a feeling, it’s this place right here, being so protectively enveloped in Maddox’s arms.
I hear his shuddering intake of breath. Feel the hard, long press of his kiss on the top of my head, and I know I’ll never get enough of this man. Never.
Pulling back, he takes my face between his hands in that way he loves to do, only this time it’s with infinite tenderness. His beautiful gray eyes are soft with emotion. “Do you trust me, Aylee?”
“With everything I am.” It’s an emphatic, unwavering avowal.
He presses his forehead to mine and kisses me softly as though my answer is something he’s waited on forever. “Run with me.”
“Max…” I trail off, my mind suddenly working. “You killed for me.” It’s not a question. I breathe the words against his lips like it’s a secret only he and I can taste. It would be natural to be disgusted and afraid of what he’s done, to be afraid of him, but what I’m feeling doesn’t even come close to fear.
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