Cleaning off residual dirt from my adventure in the wild, I let the water stream hit my slashed arm, stinging fiercely on the fresh gash so I could refocus. I didn’t want it to start bleeding again, so I kept it there long enough to bury any memories and stepped out to dry off and get dressed.
Tom was up by the time I made it to the kitchen. I hadn’t re-dressed my forearm, but the long-sleeved shirt covered it up.
“Hey, Justice. How did you sleep?”
“Like a log, actually. All the exertion yesterday wiped me out.”
“There’s coffee if you want some and bacon and eggs in the oven warmer. Help yourself.”
He was seated at the table, finishing off a plate of his own.
“How is Lil this morning? Have you called the hospital?” Shit. Why had that come out of my mouth like a desperate moron?
Tom looked up at me and smiled. “I have, actually. She had an okay night. She was still in a little pain, but they should let her home today. I thought we could go pick up her truck and bring it back before we go get her. You can drive, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Although, it’s been a while.”
“Well, there’s not much you can hit around here apart from trees.”
Loading some bacon and eggs onto a plate and then filling a mug with coffee, I settled in beside Tom and chowed down. I was frigging starving and hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunch time. The food barely touched the sides of my throat as I washed it down with coffee.
A cigarette would be nice to finish off with, but I’d smoked them all. I hadn’t seen anyone other than Nate light up, but it was worth asking, as I was craving the nicotine.
“Do you have any cigarettes?”
Tom shook his head. “No. I don’t smoke. Neither does Lil. You need me to get you some?”
“Yeah. I ran out yesterday.”
“I said anything you need, just ask. We’ll pick some up on the way to the hospital. How does that sound?” He stood and took his plate to the dishwasher, rinsing it first.
“Thank you. That would be great.”
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you to finish that, and then we’ll go get my girl’s truck.” With a pat on the back, he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me with something that resembled happiness.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Lil
He’d saved me. I’d expected my father or Nate, but instead, Justice had come. Why? Even with his facial features hidden in darkness behind the flashlight, I’d picked up on his concern. His voice had wavered, and the tone had registered differently. Softer. It was beyond me why that one piece of my rescue had stuck with me when the rest of it had been blank, but as I’d woken in the hospital bed, the first thing that had sprung to mind had been that.
Another mysterious quality about the handsome criminal had presented itself. A thief with a heart? Surely not. My head injury had probably deluded me into thinking he cared. People like Justice didn’t care. They couldn’t. Life had annulled the goodness and replaced it with cold indifference.
“Good morning!” A breezy nurse floated into the room, obviously having just begun her shift. She was way too energetic for someone that had put in twelve hours.
“Hi.”
“How are you feeling today? Would you like some breakfast?”
Listening to my stomach grumble for the last hour, I was more than ready to eat. “Yes, please.” As for my body, well, I was going to be pretty darn sore for a while. Every time I turned over, my back groaned in protest. My plastered leg wasn’t really sore any more now that the bone had been re-set. Twice in the night, I’d asked for some pain-killers for the back pain, and I was borderline needing some more. “Am I able to get some pain meds? I can feel the last lot starting to wear off.”
Checking her watch, she walked over to my chart to see what time I’d been medicated. “Sure. I’ll grab some in a minute and get you comfortable again, hon.”
“Thank you.”
The breakfast tray was wheeled in, and the smell of food lit my senses.
It consisted of scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice. I was so hungry that even the sub-par hospital food tasted like a banquet. It helped fill the gaping hole in my stomach. The nurse left and reappeared a few minutes later with some medication, and then I was on my own again.
The surgery had left me drowsy, so it wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.
Sounds woke me. Voices tried to whisper but failed miserably. Paper rustled.
Lifting my weary lids and turning to the noises, I was met with the same two sets of eyes that had greeted me after surgery.
Propping myself up on my pillows, I couldn’t help the warm smile that curved my cheeks. “Dad!”
“Hey, honey. How’s my girl today?” He was at my side, wrapping me in his arms, filling me with his dad smell.
“Tired. I’ve had some pain meds, so I’m comfortable at the moment.” Peering over Dad’s shoulder, I found Justice watching me with precise focus.
“Hey, Justice.”
“Hey, princess,” he said.
That deep rumble blanketed me with warmth, and suddenly the term “princess” didn’t seem to bother me like it did. My father appeared at ease with his newest rescue, and I guess that was good enough for me. He’d proven himself over the last twenty-four hours and saved my life, so I was going to try harder to get along with him.
Dad stood by my side. “The doctor will be around soon, but I’ve heard whispers that you’re allowed to come home.”
“Wow, that’s fast. I figured I’d be in here for another night at least.”
“I guess you’re doing well enough after surgery to recover back at the house.”
It would be good to get back into my own bed. I just hoped they’d send me home with adequate pain killers because somehow I didn’t think Advil was going to cut it.
Justice walked over to my bed and held his hand out. “I thought you might be wanting this. You left it in the truck.”
My phone! God, how I had wanted it when I’d been waiting for help to arrive last night. It was nice of him to bring it to me.
I genuinely smiled and took it from him. “Thank you. I appreciate you bringing it to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smelled of soap and faint remnants of my dad’s scent that had attached itself to his clothes. Hopefully, Justice would instill his own smell into them because it was kind of weird to be smelling your father on a hot guy.
A white-coated man entered the room, stethoscope around his neck. He was my ticket home.
“Lillian. Good to see you’re awake and have eaten. Let’s check you over and get you out of here.”
What a whirlwind of events. It was hard to believe this time yesterday I’d been collecting Justice from the stables to grab some lunch. I had no idea then that I’d have had surgery and be awaiting release from hospital.
Justice stepped back, allowing the doctor to do what he had to. Apparently, surgery had gone well, and I would make a full recovery. The usual advice of take it easy was given, and then, I was allowed to go after he handed me a prescription for strong meds in case I needed them.
***
The next week dragged by. I wasn’t used to being laid up with nothing to do, and I was fast becoming bored. Dad waited on me hand and foot the Sunday I got out of hospital, but after that, I was pretty much on my own with a pair of crutches and an empty house.
The bet Justice had won was canceled due to the circumstances, which I was happy about—although, I wondered if he had just postponed my slaving after him for another day.
He was back working on the stables, and Dad was at the rescue center. Mia and her cubs were in a new enclosure outside, and they were going to be re-introduced to the other tigers soon.
Nate, Daniel, and Macy had all visited, and I’d had an earful about the romantic getaway from Macy. Of course, everyone was in shock when they’d found out what had happened to me. Nate was concerned that Da
d hadn’t called him to help search, but in the end, he’d already put in way too many unpaid hours working for us.
Justice had kept to himself after his hard days of labor, either in his room or glued to his phone. He still didn’t seem all that comfortable in our home. I guess he was trying to adjust to life outside of prison. Sometimes, I’d catch him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t watching, and other times, I didn’t need to be looking at him to know his eyes were trained on me.
Saturday morning a week after my accident, Dad, Justice, and I were sitting in front of the television with the morning news on. We didn’t get to watch it much through the week, so Saturday mornings before we began our day, we switched it on to catch up with what was going on in the outside world.
A segment about the latest political campaign ended when a woman’s voice grabbed Justice’s attention. I knew this because his coffee cup was almost to his mouth when he faltered.
Police this morning arrested fifty-year-old Jeffrey O’Dowell at his home in El Segundo, Los Angeles after being accused of a string of offenses against a minor in his care. O’Dowell, who has been fostering children, mostly boys, for the last seventeen years, had apparently tied up, beaten, and starved twelve-year-old Daniel Thompson, whom he has had in his care for the past six months. Daniel managed to escape and ran for help, naked and undernourished, to a neighbor’s house, practically pounding the front door in, desperate and afraid. Authorities say they found a cellar with chains, a dog bowl half-filled with dirty water, and the child’s waste littered over the concrete floor.
Mr. O’Dowell has been remanded in custody. Police are appealing to other children who were under the care of this man and who were mistreated in any way to come forward…
My eyes had moved from the television screen to Justice. His hands and whole body were shaking, coffee spilling from the cup to his shirt. His face was filled with terror, eyes bulging.
“Justice?”
He was zoned out, lost to the news report. Glancing at Dad, I found him staring at Justice too, concerned. Taking the remote from the coffee table, I switched the television off and moved closer to Justice on the couch, wondering what had him so shaken.
“Hey!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face, grabbing his cup and placing it on the table. I’d never seen such a look of absolute dread on anyone before. His breathing had elevated, and every muscle in his body had tightened. His fingers had curled into white-knuckled fists.
Dad got up and came over, placing a hand on Justice’s shoulder. “Son? What’s got you so frightened? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Justice just sat there, staring through Dad, something building in him that looked like it was going to explode any second.
Without warning, he flew off the couch, pushing my father aside and stormed outside, slamming the back door.
I looked to Dad for some clue as to what had just happened, but he looked as addled as me.
“Should we go after him?”
“Just give him some time to settle down. Whatever he saw on that news broadcast has really affected him.”
“Do you think he knows one of the boys or the man in question?”
“It’s hard to say, but he definitely knows something.”
Shit. I thought back to the story and was suddenly filled with nauseous dread. What if Justice did know the boy that had been abused? Or worse? What if he knew Jeffrey O’Dowell?
I wanted to go to him, but Dad was right. He’d only push me away while he was in such a state. He needed to cool off. Trouble was, I hated the look I’d seen on his face. Lost. Alone. Frightened. What the hell had happened to him to trigger such a reaction? The nurturer in me needed to find out.
Dad patted my knee. “Stop worrying. I’m sure when he’s calmed down, everything will be fine.”
Dad hadn’t spent as much time with Justice as I had. I didn’t believe that for one second. Something terrible had been stirred in him, and it may just be the very thing to push him over the edge.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Justice
I was on the run again. My body had only just recovered from attempting to race Lil days earlier, and now I was on a marathon again. Full throttle. Running from the evil. Always running from the evil. After so many years of the nightmares, seeing his face on the news had put me in that cellar again as if it were yesterday.
The prick had actually been caught. Some poor kid had blabbed even though I had no doubt that the deranged fucker who had threatened my life if I went to the cops more than likely had bullied the child who had escaped with the same warning. Good for the kid. He was paramount in putting that asshole away.
Those maniacal eyes that haunted my dreams had stared out from the television as if they’d been looking directly at me. Laughing. Jeering. My real-life nightmare.
Every hostile emotion I’d ever felt while in that dwelling spewed from my soul into my blood, lunging for my heart. Sounds of torture exploded from my mouth, stealing my breath, and yet I still drove forward. It felt like I was running for my life or running from my past or both.
Pain. I needed it now more than I ever had. The emotions killing me inside were like acid on an already open wound. I was a newly turned teen all over again. Most kids would get a cake or a party, gifts. Nope. Not me. Nothing. I’d had to cut the monster’s thick, fungus-encrusted toenails before he’d forced me to go with him to pilfer some shit from a local hardware store. Turns out, I was stealing the very items that would tether me for days in the bowels of his squalid hovel.
Where was a knife when you needed it? A tool that relieved such treacherous heartache that never went away, like it had become part of my DNA. Every cell, every fiber that made up who I was had been tarnished. I hurt so fucking bad.
Stopping miles from the house, I searched for a weapon. Desperate, I didn’t know who I was any more. This turbulent volcano in me was ready to erupt, and I needed to loosen a valve to relieve some of the pressure.
Snapping a branch in half, I sat and pulled up my shirt sleeve, revealing my artwork. A canvas of strategically placed slashes. Just the sight of it had me breathing slower.
I placed the jagged edge of what had only seconds ago had been a living part of a tree and in an instant became a self-torture device.
The penetrating sting that should have come, didn’t. My inner pain pushed aside any surface tenderness. Like a junkie got used to the prick of a needle, so too had I blacked out the initial perforation into my flesh. I watched, detached, as blood began to ooze and trickle a path down my forearm and then drip onto the dry earth. I willed the blistering lava from my troubled depths to expel with each globule of blood so that purification may come. Get the hurt out. Make it go away.
Re-gouging the fresh wound of two days ago didn’t take much effort. It had barely glued itself back together. There was more blood this time, maybe because it was still trying to heal.
Heaving sobs shook me, and it wasn’t until droplets of clear saline fell onto the blood and diluted it that I realized I was crying. There was nowhere else for the buildup of sadness to go. I was so filled with it the cup had run over.
Lifting myself off the ground, blood still dripping like sweat, I realized I was standing outside the entrance to the elephant enclosure. On autopilot, my subconscious had led me here. The giant creatures beckoned me as if somehow their gentle presence could offer me salvation.
Without a key, there was no way in except for over the fence. With jagged barbs lining the top, it would be a deterrent to most. The way I was feeling, the sharp metal called to me.
Finding my footing was difficult in the small holes. The boots I was wearing struggled to fit and stay put, but with a lot of force, I stretched the fence out of shape and managed to hoist myself up as far as the spikes. Contemplating my options, I knew I really didn’t have any. Whatever angle I used to climb over would have me looking like a pin cushion.
Might as well just do it. Gra
sping one of the structure poles, I cocked my leg over, careful to avoid my cock and balls and grimaced as the small hooks ate into my inner leg.
Tom’s jeans were going to suffer, but fuck it. I needed this. Catching the fabric on a couple of bars, I balanced precariously atop the razor sharp wire that had the potential to un-man me.
Pulling on my leg to free the snare, I lifted my other leg up and over, a tear sounding out as that leg too got caught. As I shuffled and tugged on it, I lost my balance and fell to the ground with a thud, the rip continuing through the denim to my skin.
Lying on my back for a moment to catch my breath, I shut my eyes against the overhead sun, pondering my stupidity for a moment.
I was a dumb ass. No doubt about it. My actions confirmed that title. In order to get back out, I needed to repeat what I’d just done. Not smart.
When I was pissed, I acted without thinking. Clearly, this should have been thought out more. The effort to get inside the compound had been so great I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength or energy for the return journey.
It didn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I had anyone worrying about me. I could stay here as long as I needed. What was the point of it all, anyway? The getting up. Plodding through the day, only to go to bed at night. It was existing, not living. My life story. I’d never truly lived. Had no purpose. I was just a waste of space. Each inhale and exhale was one more moment in hell. One more second to fight with my demons. What the fuck was the meaning of that? Why did I even bother? Lil didn’t care. Tom was just doing his duty. The closest I’d come to having a moment of compassion given to me was when a stupid elephant had embraced me with its trunk, like it had taken a gamble on me without expecting anything in return. As mental as that was, it was my reality. My attempt to grasp onto something so insignificant so that I might feel a spark of life.
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