what happened. And if either of you had anything to do with it I’m going to do you worse. Understand?” Kid shut his eyes and tears streamed down his face. Caleb almost let the knife run through the boy. Something about his features, his youth, and his weepiness made Caleb want to slap him to the ground, so he did.
“Jair,” Caleb’s voice was cold, “take this little pussy and the girl alive. Kill the rest and burn the house down.” Caleb dropped the knife and didn’t look back as he made his way toward the bathroom.
The man from earlier was still bleeding and writhing on the floor of the hallway, but as he saw Caleb approach he worked to remain still, become invisible. Caleb’s fury rose up again. This was one of the men who had hurt her. He wanted to go back for the knife and play a little game of poke the rapist, but he didn’t have time. Kitten needed a hospital.
He approached her quivering body slowly, suddenly wishing he wasn’t covered in blood. She whimpered and cried as he gathered her into his arms. His heart lurched and he fought hard not to squeeze her to his chest.
He lifted her and walked as efficiently as possible out of the house and out into the light. He looked down at her, watching as the sun lit her bloodied face. Her trembling stilled somewhat and her brows knitted slightly. For a moment he saw her as he had that day, a shy young girl looking up at him with awe. Her savior.
Caleb kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear, 'Don’t worry Kitten, I promise I’m going to make it better.”
THIRTEEN
I was sinking, falling. I struggled to open my eyes but my world was a blur, a mirage. Not real.
Could it be real?
All around me there was blaring light and muffled voices, but I couldn’t lift my head to see where they came from. A man wearing a white coat came into view and spoke.
I couldn’t make out what he said, but his face seemed full of reassurances, false promises, empty words in a tone meant to pacify me. Then there was a tunnel of soft blue light surrounding me. I wanted to say something, or get up, but the pain was too intense. My eyes closed in their heaviness, and I sunk back into myself.
There were other moments of time when I drifted in and out of consciousness, but I couldn’t remember them clearly. Time was irrelevant. It was not now, or then, or later.
There was only pain. More pain. Less pain. It was the only constant.
“It wasn’t all my fault!”
I opened my eyes. For certain this time. Dark. Just a low lamp in the corner. Startled, I tried to move all at once and my entire body contracted in pain with the effort. For a moment I thought I might still be dreaming. My body burned. I placed a hand on my ribs and felt the bandages surrounding my midsection. It hurt to breathe. I kept hearing a low buzz in my ears and I realized that it was coming from inside me. I saw pinpricks of dots every time I moved my head and the light hurt. My fingers and gaze followed the pattern of damage. My left arm was in a sling across my neck, and my nose was covered in a type of tape. My eyes were puffy and blinking felt like a chore, an exercise in futility but a necessary one. Gently, I touched my face again, carefully removing the cakiness around my eyes.
There was a shadow, man-shaped, sitting quietly and unmoving in the corner. I squinted and leaned forward. Fuck the pain. Caleb, sitting eerily unmoving and in the dark with me.
“Try not to move,” he said just above a whisper. He leaned into the light. The initial impulse was to move but the pain stopped me, and Caleb, his appearance disarming. He looked rough, like he’d been to hell and back.
That realization echoed through me. Did I feel relieved? Terrified? I couldn’t muster any emotion one way or another. I was just…numb. Empty and buzzing.
He rose from the chair and came toward me. “Don’t be afraid. You’ll be all right now.” I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t all right and never would be. “Your face is bruised, but nothing’s broken.
Your shoulder was dislocated and you have a few cracked ribs, not broken. You’ll heal, but I’m afraid all I have to offer you is rest and medicine for the pain.” His words made no difference to me. I was still alive. And still with Caleb. When he got up, I didn’t flinch but just watched as he came toward me. What was left to be afraid of? What did I have left to lose?
“Where am I?” I hardly recognized my own voice. It was hoarse and gravelly, as dry and brittle as my throat felt.
“Somewhere different,” he said. Vague. Typical.
He sat next to me on the bed. Nice bed, nice room, I thought, focusing on the easy stuff my witless brain could handle.
Did he have blood in his hair?
“I’m sorry Kitten,” he whispered.
Right, he was sorry, but not for taking me from home. “Good.”