Into the Blackness (Blackness Series Book 4)

by Norma Jeanne Karlsson

  I’m stopped by hospital staff as they move Sawyer into the emergency room. I mindlessly take a seat in the waiting room. He’s alive. I keep reminding myself that he’s alive. We saved him. We saved him.

  Kat

  “Missus Johnson,” a male voice calls in the distance.

  “Yes,” I say fully alert as I scan the waiting room. I’m still alone. I must have dozed off for a moment.

  “We’ve moved Sawyer to a room. I’ll have to wait for consent from his parents to give you any updates on his medical status,” he informs me in a resigned tone.

  “His father did that to him,” I seethe. “I have no idea where his ‘mother’ is. Sawyer has been in my home almost every day and night since September. I don’t give a shit about HIPAA laws or your hospital’s fucking confidentiality rules. Take me to my son!”

  “You can sit with him. There are no issues with hospital rules and you visiting him. Only his medical information is privileged. This way,” he says, extending a hand for me to go ahead of him, looking a little scared of the crazy lady.

  He leads me through the hospital, up several floors in the elevator and then down a long corridor before stopping at a room. I rush in, dragging a chair to the edge of the bed before dropping into it. I scoop Sawyer’s battered hand into mine and press a soft kiss to his bloody knuckles.

  He looks no different from when he was in the house on the floor, other than some stitches running from his hairline onto his forehead. There’s an oxygen mask over his face, monitors connected to wires covering his body, a tube coming from his chest, an IV in his other hand and a few bandages on his arms. He looks horrible. I feel an immense amount of guilt, crushing guilt. I should’ve taken Jake with me. He could have helped me subdue that monster faster.

  “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I’m so sorry,” I whimper into his hand.

  I lay my head on the bed next to our hands, listening to him breathe and let the exhaustion take over my body.

  “Kat,” I hear Nick’s voice in my ear.

  “Hmm?” I answer, squeezing Sawyer’s warm hand in mine. He’s still here.

  “Kat, I need you to wake up and sign this,” Nick says softly.

  I sit up and find all the boys in the room with Nick and Shane. I offer the boys sad apologetic smiles before looking up at Nick. He looks as bad as I feel. He’s holding forms in his hand and a pen in the other. I release Sawyer’s hand tentatively, watching for any signs of distress at the loss of my touch. Nothing.

  I pull the paper and pen from Nick’s grasp. It’s a form for immediate temporary custody of Sawyer. I quickly flip through the pages and find where my signature is needed, just below Nick’s. Two kids in one day. We’re on a roll. I sign and return the form to Nick who passes it to Shane. I’m thankful when Shane exits the room without attempting to speak to me. I’m still furious with him, but he came for me. I see it in his gaze. My friend was here for me when I needed him even though I’m not sure I’ll ever speak to him again.

  “Aunt Kay,” Cole’s voice cracks. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” I coo offering him a weary smile. I’m so far from fine at this point that I don’t even know what I am, but he wants to know if I’m hurt and I’m not physically hurt.

  “Mister and Missus Johnson?” a young woman in a lab coat asks as she moves into the room.

  “Yes,” Nick answers for us both.

  “I’m Doctor Willis. I’ve been given clearance to discuss Sawyer’s medical condition with you as his temporary guardians.”

  That was fast. Well, not really. I’m guessing my signature was just a technicality. Shane may be a bastard, but he’s good at this. He probably had guardianship transferred to Nick and me before he got on a plane here.

  “Sawyer has a concussion, several fractured facial bones, we stitched up a small laceration on his forehead, his nose was broken and has been reset, he has five broken ribs and four bruised. His lung was punctured from the broken ribs and collapsed. The chest tube will have to stay in place for a few days. All things considered, we believe he’ll make a full recovery. At this point he just needs to rest. If you have any questions I’d be happy to answer them.”

  “How long does he have to stay here?” I ask.

  “Once we remove the chest tube and deal with any infections, we’d like him to be tolerating food and fluids on his own before we discharge him. In cases like Sawyer’s I expect patients to be here for a week or more. We’ll see how he does,” she responds kindly.

  “Thank you,” Nick finishes for us.

  Dr. Willis leaves the room and I feel a slight amount of relief. Sawyer’s going to be okay.

  “Boys, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get some dinner?” Nick asks, pulling his money clip from his pocket. None of them makes a move to obey.

  “Go eat, boys. We’re not goin’ anywhere,” I assure them.

  They all study my face until Cole stands up and comes around the bed to me. He pulls me to my feet and crushes me in his arms. I squeeze him back as I feel two more pairs of arms engulf my body. Tears fall from my eyes as their love seeps into my bones. I have Sawyer, now I have to get the three of them.

  “I love you boys,” I say quietly.

  “Love you too,” they announce in unison and smash me harder.

  I pull out of their arms and kiss each of them on the cheek.

  “Now go eat,” I order wiping my face with both hands.

  I look down at my hands for the first time and realize they’re covered in dried blood. I’m still barefoot and my feet are also caked in blood. Shit, I must look scary as hell.

  “It’s okay, Kat,” Jake soothes recognizing my realization. “There’s a shower in the bathroom. We’ll go eat while you clean up. Nick can stay with Sawyer.”

  I nod. He squeezes my shoulder before leading the boys away.

  “I had the nurse leave you some scrubs in the bathroom. I’ll go get you clothes in a little while,” Nick says quietly, standing across the room from me near the bathroom door.

  “Thank you,” I whisper and finally look into his face. His eyes are on Sawyer. His fake dark brown eyes are haunted and tortured in a way I’ve never seen. My heart breaks for him. Nick may have hurt me, but he loves these boys as much as I do. This is as hard for him as it is for me.

  I walk toward the bathroom and stop next to Nick. I pause before placing my hand on his forearm, offering him a firm squeeze of comfort before I move into the bathroom to clean that monster’s blood from my body.

  Nick

  Almost a year ago I sat waiting for my best friend to wake up from a coma after I failed to save her. This is different, and yet no less painful. As I hear the shower flow in the bathroom, I carry the chair Kat was occupying to the other side of Sawyer’s bedside before settling in it. I pull his hand into mine and rub my thumb over his scraped knuckles. If Kat hadn’t caved that motherfucker’s face in I’d be doing worse to him right now.

  The scene I ran into is still racing through my head. Jake calls me and tells me that Sawyer’s dad took him from school and they couldn’t get a hold of him. I wasn’t all that worried about it. Sawyer usually goes home once a week for an afternoon to check on his mother and then comes back to our house. It was weird that his dad was picking him up, but I didn’t get worried.

  When I pulled up in the driveway and saw the look on Jake’s face, I knew shit was bad. I sprinted around the house, following Kat’s footprints in the snow and came upon a shattered glass door. That’s when my stomach dropped and everything started moving in slow motion. I ran through the office spying Kat’s coat and boots, bellowing for her. When she responded, I felt relief and terror combined.

  I came into the room where Kat was expertly hammering into Sawyer’s chest, a piece of me died. I saw the dead body behind Kat and disregarded it as I started working on Sawyer. The pleas and sobs coming from Kat shattered me. She was desperate. A mother’s screams to the universe to bring her child back echoed through t
he room at a deafening level. Sawyer was drowning on his own blood. When we finally got him back…I don’t have words. Elation.

  I knew I couldn’t leave in the ambulance with Kat and Sawyer. I had to clean up the mess. I called Shane and got the machine that is the DCA fixing shit. The State’s Attorney’s office was first on Shane’s list to make sure Kat wasn’t charged with murder. An easy fix. Then he set about getting us custody of Sawyer. There’s a legal process that should have been followed that I know wasn’t. I don’t give a shit. He’s ours now and as soon as we can, it will no longer be temporary.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper staring at his battered face.

  Sawyer never mentioned his father being violent. I have no clue what precipitated a beating this vicious, but I’m going to find out. If I discover anyone other than that dead fat fuck had anything to do with it, I’ll unleash my monster like I never have.

  Sawyer groans a little and moves his hand to his face to pull at his oxygen mask.

  “Sawyer, you’re all right. Leave that mask on, bud,” I soothe, grabbing his hand away from his face.

  “Dad,” he whispers cracking one swollen eye open.

  “Don’t talk. I know your dad did this. He’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” I assure him, squeezing his hand.

  “No,” he mutters, shaking his head.

  He flops his hand up to his face and drags the mask down to his chin. His breath is labored and wheezy.

  “Please, leave the mask on. You need it,” I urge, standing up to place it back over his face.

  He grabs my hand, stopping my progression as I gaze into his tiny slit of an eye.

  “You’re my dad,” he breathes out with conviction.

  “Yeah, bud,” I say through a smile. “Love you. Keep this mask on.”

  “Love you too,” he says wincing in distress.

  “Stop talkin’ now. We’ll talk when you’re better. You’re safe now. Get some rest. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

  I put the mask back in place as he barely nods in agreement before immediately falling back to sleep. I press my lips to the least injured part of his forehead as Kat comes in the room. She’s in scrubs, her hair up in a towel, feet in fuzzy socks. Her face looks gaunt with deep dark circles under her eyes. She looks like her soul’s been tortured and is trying to work its way out of her skin. It’s agonizing to witness.

  I move around the bed and pull another chair up for Kat to sit in. She regards me cautiously but takes the seat. I go back to the chair on the other side of the bed and hold Sawyer’s IV clad hand gently rubbing his knuckles, studying their damage.

  “Did he say anything?” Kat asks in a whisper.

  “He said I’m his dad and that he loves me,” I answer honestly.

  I peer up into her hazel eyes. She gives me soft. Fuck that feels good. There’s the woman I fell in love with.

  “He’s ours now.”

  “Always has been,” I state confidently.

  “No one can take him,” she says with a crack in her voice.

  “No one is gonna take him.”

  “I feel so guilty,” she admits sheepishly.

  “What? Why?” I ask taken aback. She saved him.

  “I should’ve taken Jake. He could’ve helped me. I took too long to save Sawyer. He was still conscious when I got in the house. That motherfucker used Sawyer as a shield and choked him to death in the process. I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Kat, you saved Sawyer. You were unarmed and unprepared. Jake needed to stay in the car with the boys. You didn’t know what you were walkin’ into. Cut yourself some slack.”

  She’s silent for a few moments, studying Sawyer and me.

  “We’ll have to work out custody,” she says blankly. Her mask is back, cold and devoid.

  “Let’s just get him back on his feet,” I mutter.

  She nods and runs into the blackness, leaving me behind with the sweet taste of her still lingering in the air.

  Nick

  “Get out!” I hear Kat bellow as I make my way to Sawyer’s room, causing me to break into a sprint.

  I breach the doorway to find Kat making her body as tall and wide as she can in front of Sawyer’s bed where she’s kept vigil for the last eight days. There’s a tall, extremely skinny woman facing Kat with her back to me.

  “You can’t keep me from my own son,” Sawyer’s mother, Patricia, growls.

  Her blonde hair is stringy from the years of drug use, her frame sickly and drawn.

  “Sawyer’s not your son anymore. Get the hell out of this room,” Kat seethes.

  “Mom,” Sawyer’s voice shakes behind her. I can’t see him, but the tone of his panicked voice spurs me forward.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Kat coos at Sawyer.

  “He’s calling for me,” Patricia scoffs at Kat like she’s an idiot.

  “No he’s not!” Kat barks.

  I step between Kat and Patricia, looming over the junkie’s face.

  “Patricia, you need to leave. Sawyer is no longer your concern. Kat and I have custody, you know this. Your parental rights have been removed. Now, I’m asking you to leave without any further scene. Sawyer’s been through enough. He doesn’t need this stress.”

  “Who the hell do you people think you are? You move into town and start stealing people’s children right from beneath them. I’ve called the Ashcrofts and the Benningtons, they’re coming home from Europe to get their boys away from you people before you ruin their families too. She murdered Harold and stole my child!” Patricia screams.

  “Get out,” Sawyer growls behind us. Kat and I spin to look at him offering Patricia her first view of his healing body. She doesn’t even wince. CUNT!

  “You’re my son. I’m not leaving and how dare you speak to me like that!” she wails.

  “You’re dead to me. Kat and Nick are my parents now and they have been for months. I never wanna see you again. You were upstairs while he was beating me to death because I wasn’t home to check on you. This is your fault. You almost got me killed. My mother saved me. Not you. Get out!” he roars wincing in discomfort. His ribs are his sorest injury at this point even with pain meds.

  “I was sick and you never even came to check on me,” she replies in a selfish pout.

  “You’re a fucking drug addict that ran outta meds.”

  “Sawyer,” she gasps, shocked at his honesty.

  “Patricia,” he replies blankly, his brown eyes devoid of any love for the woman that gave birth to him.

  “I need money,” she seethes. “He left everything to you.”

  Sawyer barks out a laugh and then crumbles in agony. Kat lunges at the bed to help him get comfortable while Patricia looks on without a single concern on her face.

  “I won’t give you a dime,” Sawyer fumes as Kat smoothes his long black waves away from his face. “Dad,” he says to me, needing me to step in.

  “Time to go, Patricia. If you come back I’ll get a restraining order,” I say glaring into her hollow dark brown eyes.

  “Are you gonna wave a piece of paper at me if I come back?” she asks defiantly.

  “No. I’ll let my wife go to work on you like she did your piece of shit husband. Get the fuck out or I’ll move out of her way and let her get at you now.”

  Her face pales at my threat before she squares her shoulders.

  “I’ll be telling my attorney about that threat.”

  “I’m sure a judge will believe a drug addict over me any day,” I snark. “Move!”

  She jumps when I roar and makes a hasty retreat.

  “You okay, bud?” I ask moving around the bed to take my chair.

  “I’m fine,” he says through a small smile. “Thanks for that.”

  “You don’t have to thank us for that. We’ll always protect you,” Kat assures him while she takes her seat across the bed from me. She might as well be an ocean away.

  “I know. I’m ready to go home,” he huffs.

  “Tomorrow,” I guara
ntee him.

  “’Kay,” he says closing his eyes.

  “Sawyer, you said you didn’t remember anything before the attack. How do you know Harold was mad because you weren’t home to check on Patricia?” I ask before he falls asleep.

  With the head trauma he endured, the doctors have told us memory loss around the attack is normal and usually permanent. I’m shocked he seems to have some recollection of the events of that day.

  “I remember him screaming ‘When’s the last time you saw her?’ at some point,” Sawyer says groggily.

  “Do you remember anything else he said?” Kat encourages with a small squeeze of his hand.

  “Huh uh,” he mutters before giving into the exhaustion and pain meds.

  I pick up his hand and stroke the almost healed skin. This situation is horrible, but I’m going to use it for the op. I can approach the Bookers about domestic help now. To be honest, we actually need it…help, not a slave. Kat can only be so many places at once and she’s running herself ragged right now. She looks like she’s lost a little weight and she didn’t have any to lose in the first place. The circles under her eyes are darker, more haunting than the weeks previous to this. She looks tired all the time and that glow she always exudes is almost completely stoked out.

  “I need to finish Christmas shopping,” Kat says bringing me out of my head.

  “’Kay,” I respond quietly.

  “Thanks for havin’ my back earlier.”

  “Always.”

  “Not always,” she scoffs. I drop my head and shoulders in defeat.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. That was a cheap shot.”

  “It’s fine,” I say dismissively. “I’ll stay here while you shop.”

  “Are you worried about the Ashcrofts and Benningtons?” she asks softly.

  “No. I’ll call Shane and have him get us custody. I figured Patricia would pull some shit like this so he’s expecting a phone call. I’ll get you the papers once I have ’em.”

  “Really?” she asks disbelieving, her hazel eyes swimming in confusion.