His hands come up in front of his face in surrender. “Wow, there, you’re all right, I ain’t gonna touch ya, and I won’t let anyone else for that matter. Deal?” His brow cocks on his tan face.
Something about the sincerity of his words inspires a slight amount of trust, spurring me on to believe him. Or maybe the reality of my situation has gotten the better of me. The fact of the matter is, I’ve got nothing, no one, and nowhere to go. Add to that having a body in the condition that it is, I couldn’t fight this giant off even if I tried. Hopelessness eats into the moment, tears welling my eyes, inspiring silent prayers to whoever might still give a shit about my pathetic soul for this stranger not to harm me.
“Ah fuck, please don’t cry,” he huffs, inspiring more waterworks as I surrender to the situation as if he were my captor and we were back in my prison. “Damn it. Okay, how about you come into the house, wash up, and I’ll make ya somethin’ to eat.”
The thought of going into any house with a man seems absolutely asinine. I may be stupid in some senses, but I’m not that fucking dumb. No way am I going into any house, with any man if I have a say about it. If he wants to drag me in there himself, then there’s not much that can be done about that. A fog begins to dance on the periphery of my vision as this interaction depletes what little storage of energy I might have had. The damp, cool air of the barn kisses my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake as a light draft finds its way around us. God, can’t you just let me die here and now, please? It seems peaceful enough, there are no tortured screams of other woman being forced into unspeakable acts as they are simultaneously beaten to hell, or the echoes of drunken ass-wipes partying in the background.
My body involuntarily shivers against the chill and the big wolf thingy that first woke me up uses a giant paw to stir up the hay by my side before plopping down there. Freezing, and unsure of what to do with this giant-ass fur ball that could probably take down a grown man if it wanted to, I wait to see what comes next. His large head turns away, coming to calmly rest on its paw. His big, dark eyes close as if he has made some definitive choice that no one was going to talk him out of. My body instantly begins to warm and I curl slightly into him, his master looking on in confusion but not saying anything. The heavy darkness closes in on me fast and I give in, hoping that it finally takes me up to the heavens.
Ω
The sound of a loud engine firing up scares the crap out of me, forcing my spine to sit straight up from a dead sleep, disoriented, and questioning where in the hell I am. Blinking rapidly, my brain tries to make sense of the surroundings. Barn stalls become clear as many sets of eyes track me, the beastly residents just as curious about me. The smell of heaven cuts my visual exploration off at the knees. On a stool within arm’s reach, a tray sits full of bacon, toast, and eggs with steam rising from it in the early morning light. Moving on impulse, I grab the tray with scabbed over fingers that crack and split as they move, and weakly pull it into my lap. My hands shake as I try to take care not to spill the cup of black coffee, its porcelain rattling against the bamboo tray. The scents waft over me as it slides onto my lap, my stomach grumbling loudly. It’s as if my senses haven’t registered real food in a decade… close enough. Sitting in wonder, I stare into outer space, my toes wiggling in excitement. A heavy weight over my legs draws my attention, someone snuck in and covered me with a quilt; the beast dog also remains idly at my feet, watching the open side door.
A big motorcycle sits near, the fat back tire squared in the doorway, the large frame of a man with short brown hair straddling it as his hands work over the machine. The engine growls again scaring the beejesus out of me. My heart leaps into my throat as childhood memories of my daddy’s Harley come to life, battering me with shit I just can’t deal with. Ignoring the gravel kicking up as the bike propels forward, I refocus on my food and dig in. It’s hard to slow down, I’m beyond hungry but know good and well what happens when you scarf food on a stomach that’s been so empty it’s been eating itself. After about three crunchy bites of buttery toast, I sip a bit of the coffee and set the tray aside. It will take me at least an hour to eat that little plate of food. As expected, my stomach cramps and spasms. Biting back the wave of nausea, my lungs try to draw slow deep breaths as my bodies tries to calm from the shock of nutrients hitting it. My hand brushes the long fur of the wolf-looking dog, this animal has been sitting protectively next to me since they discovered me. His eyes briefly find mine as he patiently holds his stance. That is how we spend the next hour; I take a bite, pet him as the need to vomit subsides, rinse and repeat.
Feeling a little braver, I finally shove up from my warm pile of hay into the cold, dewy morning air. The thick quilt falls from my legs, and the instant chill makes me regret my decision. Grabbing the intricately patched blanket, I sling it over my shoulder and shudder before stepping my battered, bare feet onto the cool dirt floor of the barn. There is a peace here; one my spirit hasn’t felt since I was a little girl. There are no obnoxious city noises or drunken assholes making my imagination run wild. The giant dog follows at my heels, his ears and eyes on high alert as he also takes in every square inch. Birds chirp in the distance as the horses in the stalls snort and whiney, occasionally bringing down a hoof to assure the world of their place. My fingers trace the wood paneling of the stall as I adventure further into the barn, my eyes wide in wonder at this magical place. If ever there was a heaven, this would definitely be it. The far back wall is open as the early morning rays of sun peak through a light mist in the air. Beyond the haze I can see rolling pastures neatly squared up by a surrounding forest.
This place had to be from a story book, it is extraordinarily perfect, almost eerily so. Perhaps the unnerving sensation is because someone like me can never truly enjoy the possibilities of something as simple as peace. After experiencing first hand just how wretched the underbellies of fucked up souls can be, it’s hard to go back. However, it is interesting to observe yourself from a third party stance. Here I stand, a walking talking live version of the shit we studied in my graduate program. I can logistically and intellectually classify all that is potentially wrong with me from a textbook standpoint, but can’t tell you the first damn thing to do about any of it. Once upon a time, I had all the answers. Once upon a time, I was the cocky nerd who studied way too much in hopes of showing up my professors. The day they took me, I was twenty two, and at the top of my class in my masters in psychology program at the University of Montana. My determination not to end up like my depressed and drunken mother, the driver behind my academic success. Looking back, it very well could have been an attempt to outrun the inevitable. Look who’s the pathetic one now. Nevertheless, I worked my ass off and with the help of numerous scholarships, had been on my way to make something of myself. My daddy would have been so proud, rumor had it that the coveted valedictorian title had also been headed my way. Holding up my scrawny arm, I examine the ugly purple finger marks embedded there. Dropping the limb, fur brushes my fingertips and I absentmindedly weave through the long strands coating the beast at my side. Dirt scrapes at the bottoms of my feet as they shuffle along. The beautiful creatures paying me no mind as they munch their morning hay mesmerize me as I go.
“Well, fur beast, lot of good all that damn school did me. I ended up in a worse spot than my mother,” I grunt.
The dog looks at me, cocks his head like he is offering a rebuttal before turning his attention back to the spanning pastures through the open door.
“Okay, you might be right, this place isn’t so bad, but I was talking about where I was before here.” I sigh and try to shake off the mention of the hillbilly fuck hole.
The thought of that place while standing here was as dirty as whispering about sex and whorehouses with your best friend in the middle of a church service. It was sacrilege. Regardless of me being a tainted piece of shit for the rest of my life, I didn't need to mar the image of this new place now being imprinted on my memory.
I’m not too sur
e about that giant lumberjack man who seemed to own this place, and looked at me as if I scared the shit out of him. He didn’t try to touch me and left me alone, so he has that going for him. But there is something so raw and unadulterated about his… I don’t know… maleness that is overwhelming. His mere presence sent me to the brink of hyperventilating. Thankfully, he left me alone, and extended some kindness. Which is also weird. He probably will want something in return for it. Fuck! I didn’t think of that until now. God, please don’t let it be sex stuff. Maybe he will let me work my keep off around this place.
Traveling to the end of the walkway, I stop just inside the open door. My arms pull the quilt tighter around my hunched form as a light breeze tries to lift my long, black, dirty hair. Curious about the sudden increase in my heart rate, I attempt to put a foot on the other side of the opening with full intentions of stepping out into the yard. Unable to follow through, I pull my foot back as fear grips me in a panic attack. Cold sweat breaks out over my brow and my vision tunnels. Shit! How can I work off my keep stuck in here? Looks like my trauma has helped me develop a taste for agoraphobia now that I have found this little safe haven of a barn. Jesus Christ, what a head case. I know what it is, the problem glaringly obvious yet the hold it has is too powerful. Backing up into one of the stall doors, I slide down as realization roots and land in a heap on the dirt floor. Knees to chest, I take to the fetal position, willing the room to stop spinning. The sun continues its ascent in the sky as I grasp at the edges of the blanket and try to focus on the way the rays of light reflect in the dew drops, saturating everything in a sparkling effect. Like millions of little crystals adorning the outside world. My fearless guard dog comes and lies by my side; together we drift off into a peaceful morning nap.
Ω
Hooves clicking close by stir me awake, they sound as if they could almost be moving by my head. My eyes fling open, alert, and darting about, but all they are able to decipher is the receding form of a quiet, bear-of-a-man leading the black thoroughbred out and into the pasture. Sobering quickly, and swiping the drool from the corner of my mouth, I launch myself upright and cower back against the painted mare’s door as my brain attempts to catch up. The brute doesn’t even cast me a second glance as he veers right, and into a ring of sorts that I hadn’t noticed before. Off to the side of where my head had been resting, a new tray with steaming beef stew and bread awaits, calling me like a lost lover. I must have entered a damn twilight zone. Who feeds a messed up, escaped sex slave, and lets her chill in their barn without calling the cops or something? Maybe he’s the crazy one.
Not wanting to question a good thing a moment more, I heft the tray over to my lap and slowly spoon the liquid into my mouth, chasing it with a dab of bread. Flavor bursts over my tongue, and a groan of delight escapes me as my eyes track his every move. For a big guy, he moves pretty fluidly. He begins to work the horse around the large, closed in ring, giving commands of sorts and gently correcting the animal as needed. It was kind of like a beautiful dance they were doing. He guides the elegant beast through the motions as it eagerly obeys, easily falling into the rhythm he sets. I knew some basic things about horses, I rode a bit when I was younger and helped my grandpa. I’ve always been drawn to the majestic animals but haven’t had the opportunity to do much about my appreciation since adult responsibility took over my life way sooner than it should have.
The black coat of the horse glistens in the sun as he begins to work up a sweat, his muscles rippling like a finely tuned machine as the man works him around the ring in various exercises while holding a long lead rope. If I’m remembering right, my grandfather said it was called groundwork. I used to watch him in amazement too, the way the horses seemed to naturally want to follow his lead. Breaking in a horse was effortless for him… well, that’s how he made it look. Just like this guy did. When grandpa was still alive, I would take the oat bucket hauling responsibilities he gave me quite seriously. It was my job to diligently spoil his work horses in my own way, my little self always wanting to make sure they knew how much they were loved. After my job was complete, I’d perch up on the fence to watch my granddaddy and the ranch hands. That had been the best way at the time for me to take my mind off of my daddy being gone; a soldier with great pride, on a mission to do his part. But enough about that nonsense.
Transfixed by the memories mixing with the show the thoroughbred and man were putting on, I hadn’t even noticed when he tightened the lead and began leading the animal back toward the barn. It isn’t until he stops just outside the opening and lifts his strong chin toward me that my mind kicks back into present.
“Food okay?” His blue eyes are soft but intense, leaving no room for anything but the God's honest truth.
“Yes, t-t-hank you,” I stutter, caught off guard by the weakness in my raspy voice. It’s weird, I feel stronger than this strange feeble voice coming out of me.
“You look like you need a doctor. You want me to take you into town?” He is definitely a country boy if I’ve ever heard one. What is interesting, however, is the inked designs on his hands and neck, snaking up from under the collar of his plaid, button-down work shirt. The artwork catches me off guard.
“N-no!” I squeak as panic and dread lick the fringes of my mind. The thought of any one touching me, even for valid reason is too much. His strong jaw clamps as he rolls something around in that head of his, something he didn’t like at all. Jesus, I hope I didn’t piss him off, sure looks that way. My body, which has been super happy for the reprieve from heavy hands, shakes at the thought of having to endure another single blow from anyone.
“Names Leo, that’s Steel.” He quickly switches gears, nodding to the wolf dog that hasn’t left my side since the moment he staked some sort of protective claim over me. Leo looks at me expectantly, waiting for something and it confuses me momentarily before I realize what an idiot I am.
“Luna.” I quickly look away from his intense gaze, and cower further into the quilt.
“Luna.” He sighs, like the syllables themselves were a salve to a wound I couldn’t see. “All right then.” He tips his hat to me then continues leading the beast toward a pasture like nothing ever happened.
That’s how the rest of the day goes. I watch him march into the barn like I don’t exist, pick out one of the horses, halter them and lead them right back out for some ground work before being turned out to pasture. When he disappears into his house in the afternoon, Steel finally takes a break, and I use that time to lift my sore body off of the ground and walk around the barn now that the lighting is better. Clutching my bruised ribs as they shoot a breath stealing pain through my chest, I hop along and find a mud room just off the tack area.
Delight fills me as I see that the room has a back corner with a shower like floor and drain. A large, inviting facet looms just over it. The need to relieve my suddenly full bladder makes me embarrassed for what is about to happen, but it’s not like there is much of a choice. No bathroom exists in this building, and I sure as hell can’t leave and go out into the open where those fucking assholes might spot me. Leo has an asshole vibe too, but not like those other bottom dwellers. It is different somehow but I can’t just put my finger on it quite yet.
Playing with the handles, I find the one marked with an “H” actually spits forth warm water. Tears spring to my eyes in happiness, and I drop the quilt. Eagerly shoving both hands under the hot water, goose bumps light up my skin as the heat is welcomed into my pale, slightly bluish, battered body. I haven’t felt above freezing water in a long time. Momentarily leaving the water flowing, I quickly move up to squat over the drain to relieve my bladder before crouching back under the facet. My old cell had a putrid bucket with a cracked rim for such things, one that never got emptied until it was about to overflow, I might need to dig around and find one for the future. A sliver of soap sits in a little cubby recessed into the wall, another rare commodity. Fuck it’s freezing in this barn and there are no towels; if there were, I
would strip down and bathe my filthy, marred body. I may not be much to look at anymore but I haven’t had a proper shower since… that fucking day that ruined my life. My sore, cracked hands get to work lathering the soap. Leaning over, I take my time tenderly washing my face and neck.
As my fingers trace the bite marks on my neck that my master left a few days back, I grimace and swallow back the bile that instinctively rises every time the thought surfaces. Not wanting to travel down that rabbit hole of murky darkness, I lose myself in the mechanics of washing the bits of skin that can be reached without fully undressing. Time doesn’t have meaning in this space of simple pleasures. It isn’t until the water finally begins to run cool that I regretfully shut it off and bundle back up, shivering against the dusky air. Limping back to my hay pile, I notice the horses are somehow back and tucked in as well. When in the hell did that happen? Collapsing onto my hay pile with a whoosh of air, I feel as if I can’t move another muscle as my joints begin to lock up.
“You sure I can’t take ya in to see a medical person? Or have someone come take a look at you?” Leo’s deep voice shocks the piss out of me as he approaches from the shadows, much like something from a nightmare… only this lurking monster is bearing gifts.
“Fuck!” I scream and cower, my hands flailing until I realize who it is. I’ve let my guard down so much here that he was able to scare the crap out of me. Steel jogs in behind him, licking his chops from a meal he must have just had and sits damn near almost on top of me, laying his head in my lap. I begin to pet him, the softness of his fur bringing my heart rate back down.
Winter's Absolution (Obsidian Blades MC Book 1) Page 3