Camille
Everything hurt.
Not that pain was anything new to Camille.
This was different though. A dull sort of sore pain. Not the sharp torturous pain she’d been subjected to for weeks. Glimpses of what she’d been through flashed in her mind, but she pushed them away.
Her eyelids were heavy and refused to open, but she knew she was no longer lying in that filthy room. Wherever she was now smelled clean, sterile. A hospital.
That would explain the faint beeping in the background too.
She’d escaped, but it wouldn’t be for long, especially since she was lying helpless in a hospital. Nothing stopped them from walking in and finally ending her. Strangely, she didn’t feel the panic she expected at that thought. Maybe the doctors had her on some great drugs, she hated that thought. As soon as she could open her eyes she would tell them to take her off everything. She’d rather endure unending pain than turn into the addicts she’d seen do anything for their next hit.
“Chief, you’ve got to leave. People are starting to talk. This doesn’t look right.” A voice she recognized, but couldn’t place, floated into her mind.
At the man’s words, something tightened around her hand. Something warm and rough, but nice. It took her a minute to realize that it wasn’t something, but someone. Someone held her hand, and judging the coarseness of the skin and way it totally enveloped her own smaller hand, it was a man. A large man at that.
“Do you think I give two shits about what people are saying?” A deep growly voice filled with tension vibrated through the air around her. The voice should have scared her, but it didn’t. Instead she felt compelled to soothe whatever bothered the owner of that voice. “I’m not leaving her until she wakes up. And even then it won’t be for long.”
“Jon.” The first man pleaded. “What’s this all about? We’ve had victims in worse shape than her before, you’ve never acted like this. We’re friends right? I’m not your employee right now, I’m the guy you’ve treated as a son for half my life. Make me understand.”
Silence followed. Except for that small steady beep, nothing but the ragged breathes of the man sitting next to her reached Camille’s ears.
“She’s mine.” The growl intensified with that word.
Mine.
She had no clue who the man holding her hand and laying claim to her was, what he looked like, but it didn’t seem to matter. That one word brought peace into her world. Something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Years.
It dawned on her that this might be the first time someone had touched her without the intention of administering pain since she was a teenager. It felt good. Better than good. Essential.
“Chief…” The first voice whispered.
“I know Coy. I know it doesn’t make sense. But from the first moment I saw her it was the only thing I knew for certain. She. Is. Mine. I don’t know what that means, or what will happen, but I know I have to protect this woman. I will do anything in my ability to make sure her safety is ensured.”
Coy. That name seemed familiar. She wracked her brain looking for how she knew the name and voice. Officer Coy. He had been the one to arrest and question her, then let her go into the hands of her tormentors. Not that he knew that.
Camille needed to wake up. To open her eyes. She had to see the man sitting next to her, because she started to think she knew who he might be, even though she’d only seen him for a fleeting second.
With great effort, she peeled her eyelids back. They seemed to scrape and scratch against the dry surface of her eyes. She cringed away from the blinding light which overwhelmed her as soon as she succeeded in opening them.
“Camille?” The deep voice, it eased her pain enough to try again.
She moved even slower, got her eyes open a fraction, and tried to make sense of the blurry form beside her. “Too much light. Please.”
“Okay, sweetheart, okay.” The room went blissfully dark. “Coy, go get the doctor.”
Footsteps echoed in the room as the officer left them alone, but Camille couldn’t take her eyes off the man in front of her. She had been right in her assessment of him being large. He towered over her bed, shoulders impossibly wide, but she didn’t feel intimidated in the least. Instead, she felt safe.
“Hi.” Her voice was little more than a whispered croak, but he didn’t seem to care. A wide smile spread over his face.
“Hi, sweetheart.” His hand still held hers, but the other came up to brush some of the hair off her forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great, but better than yesterday.” She shifted, searching for a more comfortable position, but no matter how she arranged herself, the pain still silently raged along her body. She glanced at their joined hands, slightly surprised to find her bandaged fingers tightly gripping his hand. “Who are you?”
“Shit, sorry. I keep forgetting that you don’t know me yet. It feels like you should know everything about me already.” From anyone else that sentence would seem crazy, over the top, but from this man it only made her happy and content. “I’m Chief Jon Gallo from the Middleburg Police Department. I was there when you collapsed in the lobby of our station. Do you remember any of that?”
“I remember walking to the station, opening the door, and thinking no one was there. After that, it’s all blank.” All this talking proved to be difficult. Even under the best of circumstances Camille wasn’t one to use a lot of words. The past few weeks she had been unable to say anything and her throat burned from the lack of use and water. “Can I have a drink?”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. We have to wait for the doctor’s to hear what they say.” Jon took his seat again, still cradling her hand in his, his large thumb swept back and forth against her palm. The warmth and reassurance he provided made her sleepy, but Camille fought the need to drift under again. “Do you know how long you’ve been here Camille?”
“I figure it’s been about a day or two. Is that right?” She blinked, struggling to pull her eyes open once more. God she wanted to sleep again.
“No, sweet girl. It has been more like two weeks. They put you on a lot of medications to keep you asleep and give you a little time to heal.” Despite his soothing tone, panic zapped through Camille’s mind.
“Two weeks? They’re going to find me. They probably already know where I am. It’s only a matter of time, I need to get out of here.” A white hot burst of pain had her gasping as she tried to sit up, but she fought against it, determined to get away once again.
“Shhhhh, shhhhh. Look at me Camille.” Jon’s voice was firm, but soft. Reluctantly, she stopped fighting against him and looked into his smoky gray eyes. His weathered hands cupped her face, keeping her still and focused only on him. “I will never let anything else ever happen to you. Whoever is after you will never get close again. We have two police officers stationed in the hall in plain clothes at all times. You are registered under a fake name with fake injuries. And even if the scumbags that did this to you did find a way to this room, I will be here the entire time and I will kill whoever tries to lay a hand on you. Do you understand?”
Camille nodded, tears forming in her eyes, that she didn’t possess the strength to hold back. Jon brushed away the wet salty trails as fast as they came, all the while keeping intense eye contact with her.
“You have no reason to fear anything from now on. Even once you get out of here, I am going to be with you every step of the way to make sure you are taken care of for the rest of your life.” Gently he pressed his lips to her forehead.
A strange burning coursed through her body at the slight pressing of his skin against hers. His mouth was softer than she ever imagined it could be. From what she could see and feel, the man appeared to be pure strength, but he treated her with the utmost of delicacy.
Sensations she had never experienced before raged through her body to collect in a deep pulsing between her legs. Even battered and bruised, she wanted him. Something she had never known before. From her early teens men and boys were something to be feared, avoided. They never awoke any sort of desire in her, but this stranger of a man did in the first conversation she’d ever had with him.
But he was so much older than she was. At least forty to her twenty-three. He couldn’t possibly see her as anything more than a pathetic little girl that needed to be cared for. But even if that was the case, Camille would take it. She’d take anything he was willing to give her, because for the first time, she knew what caring felt like, and she refused to let it go.
The door swung open and a doctor and nurse strode in, breaking the connection between Camille and Jon. They poked and prodded at her. They took vitals, blood, and ran a series of tests to make sure she didn’t have any lingering head trauma. In the end, they said she would recover. The majority of her injuries had been superficial, painful, but not life altering. Her fingers and toes had been reset while she was under, but there wasn’t much they could do about the bruised and broken ribs. She had a bit of internal bleeding that they had gone in to stop, but the incision was small and would heal quickly. However, it would be awhile before she could move without wincing.
“Camille, there is one more thing we need to discuss. I’m going to ask your friend here to give us some time alone. Okay?” The doctor shot a poorly hidden contempt filled glare at Jon, who returned it with stony silence.
They were going to make Jon leave her? No! He’d been holding her hand the entire time they examined her, only moving when one of the nurses needed to check on an injury. The thought of him letting go of her and leaving her alone made her body tremble and quake with fear.
Ignoring the doctor, Camille turned eyes to her protector. “Please don’t leave me alone. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He turned to the now fuming doctor. “Anything you need to discuss with her, you can say in front of me. I’ll keep my mouth shut though.”
“Are you sure, Camille? These next questions could be rather personal in nature.”
“I’m sure. I don’t want him to go away. Even for a minute.”
“Okay, then.” The doctor heaved an annoyed sigh and settled in on the edge of her bed. “When you came in we weren’t able to perform a gynecological exam to check for signs of sexual assault.” Again the doctor shot a withering glare at Jon, but quickly continued. “We need to know, were you sexually assaulted in any way? Is there any chance you could be pregnant? All the blood tests we have run came back negative, but if it is early enough in a pregnancy, the blood wouldn’t show signs for a few more weeks.”
Before the doctor could even finish his questions Camille shook her head with more vigor than she thought her sore body would be able to handle. “No, they never touched me… like that. I swear.”
“Are you sure, Camille? There is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. We all understand you’ve been through a great ordeal.”
“I promise you, nothing like that happened.” She turned to Jon, wanting him to know that they hadn’t hurt her sexually. “The men that did this, it was on the orders of my brother. He might be evil, but he’d never let them do that. He’d kill them if they even tried.”
A parade of emotions stretched across Jon’s face. First relief at the knowledge that she hadn’t been sexually assaulted. Then anger that it had been her brother to do this to her. Finally, determination. And without even having to ask, Camille knew he would make the men responsible for her injuries pay.
***
After the doctor left, she slipped back into a fitful sleep, now unaided by the drugs the doctors and been pumping into her. The pain slowly made its way back into the foreground since the narcotics had worn off. Even though her body ached for relief, her mind felt at ease knowing she wouldn’t be dependent on anything but Tylenol and her own strength.
They had all tried to talk her into staying on the morphine, but she refused. And Jon stood by her, somehow instinctually knowing not relying on drugs was important to her.
Jon had a way of knowing exactly what she needed, before she needed it. Water, Tylenol, an extra pillow, he seemed to be producing them out of nowhere before she could even ask for them. He even recognized when her hand started to become sore from his gentle hold on it, instead shifting his hand to lay on her knee. Camille desperately wished that every inch of her wasn’t so sore. He would switch sides between her hands to give them a break, and when the broken bones in both were too much he would rest his large hands on her knees, ankles, or shoulder. No matter what, he always seemed to need contact with her in some way. As did she.
Before she drifted off to sleep, he explained that she would need to talk to the police. She would need to tell them everything that had happened to her since she left the police station the month before. She’d need to tell them about her brother and his role in the drug ring plaguing the town. She would also need to tell them her role in it too.
Camille was grateful he didn’t ask her for the specifics yet. She feared once he knew how deep into the organization she truly was, he’d never want to see her again, and she couldn’t bear that thought.