CHAPTER 2
My legs trembled, and I worried they would fail me at any moment. Standing in front of the door, which would lead me away from my apartment, I waited and listened, but didn't hear anything. That didn’t mean he wasn’t out there ready to grab me.
Glancing back at the shadowed room behind me, I wondered if I should lock the door and stay, but I had no landline; my pay-as-you-go cellphone had not been sitting on my bedside table where I left it charging every night. Part of me wanted to lock the door and hide in my apartment; after all, this was my safe place, my home. Instinct told me to run. Instinct had served me well for so many years that I wasn’t about to ignore it, so I pulled the door wide open and on unsteady legs reached for the cold stair rail and descended.
“One, two, three, four,” I counted the stairs as I stepped down, the sound a rough whisper off my lips. My gaze darted over anything and everything, searching for Ben’s shadow. My feet found the biting gravel, and desperation at how close I was to escaping made me speed up, edging around the corner of the building as I continued to watch for movement. My body moved on auto pilot, staying close to the shadows as I tiptoed my way around an empty beer can. The street was void of life. I stumbled into a ditch and almost fell to my knees as pain erupted through my body. Fighting back against the unconsciousness that teased me, I regained my balance and shuffled to the opposite side of the street. Those dozen or so steps seemed to be the longest of my life, exposed to anyone who might happen to turn onto the street. Was Ben watching from somewhere? Was this a sick game in which he wanted me to run just so he could capture me again? I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; if this was a game and Ben intended on hunting me down, I’d give him one hell of a chase.
Moving past the shops that were locked up tight at this time of the morning, I edged around the corner and onto another street, pausing on the curb at the distant hum of an approaching vehicle. Did I try to flag the driver down? What if it was Ben? Tears continued to fall as, in a panic, I threw myself back into the shadows of the building behind me, lowering myself to my haunches as I tried to make myself as small as possible. With morbid curiosity, I peeked at the vehicle as it drew level with me and I watched my Jeep, lovingly named Jackie, or ‘J’ for short, slowly roll past me and turn into the small driveway that led behind the laundromat I lived above. Ben had been driving and just seeing his silhouette behind the wheel consumed me with dread.
“No, no, no,” I whimpered. Having trouble catching my breath, I stood quickly and stubbed my toe on a crack in the pavement as I made my way down the street and around another corner. I lived in town but in a commercial district; there wouldn’t be anybody around at this time of the morning. My frantic gaze sought light from any one of the buildings that lined the street, finding none.
Mercy’s! The thought made my feet move faster, and I almost lost my balance as I tried to maneuver around a large dumpster. Mercy’s Shelter was only a few blocks away. There was always someone there, a salvation to women who had been living in hell. Today it would be my salvation.
Keeping to the dark shadows of night that clung to the pre-dawn world, I hid, avoiding street lights, stumbling from one shop front to another. The air was crisp and cold, and I was shaking so bad my teeth were chattering. My breathing seemed to be getting more difficult, my skin felt clammy, and I wasn’t sure if it was dizziness that caused my nausea or if there was something wrong inside me.
As I reached a small, quiet house, I paused when I heard a car engine rev angrily in the distance before it raced down the street. Scrambling, I dropped behind a small bush, trying once again to make myself invisible as my Jeep barreled past me.
Terror saw me stumble up a cracked sidewalk and beat heavily on the front door of a stranger’s house. It was the only house on this street, an old, run-down cottage squeezed amongst small warehouses and shops. After a moment of banging on the door, I stopped and listened. There was no sign of life inside, and as I swung my skittish gaze over the front lawn, I noticed the For Sale sign and sobbed with despair. Stumbling back down the steps and over the patchy lawn, I found my way back onto the street and allowed instinct to take over. Mercy’s, I had to reach Mercy’s . . . salvation.
I felt faint and light-headed, but the agony with every step I took helped me cling to consciousness. It seemed as if I had wandered around the back roads of Claymont for hours before the giant-like mountains that surrounded the small town began to take shape under the soft hue of light. Dawn was quickly approaching, and I couldn’t have been out in the cold morning air for more than half an hour, at most. When I reached the familiar driveway to Mercy’s, I began to sob uncontrollably. By now I was confused, not really able to recall what street I was on, and my night of terror was getting lost in jumbled thoughts. The adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins had long ago disappeared, and I moved on instinct and fear alone. There were a few cars parked behind the large industrial building, and two of them were familiar, but I couldn’t pair them with a face. My mind struggled to stay focused on what I was doing and where I was supposed to be going. It felt as though I was shutting down. The burning pain and fetid horror of what had happened to me was going to be lost to unconsciousness soon.
Stumbling in an almost drunken manner, I reached a heavy door and tried to push it open, but it was locked. My head fell against the cool, hard surface, and with a weak hand, I slapped my palm against it in an attempt to rouse anyone inside.
“Help me,” I whispered roughly as the world around me grew hazy. Pressing my eyes together hard, I pulled my robe around my trembling body more tightly. “Please.” Another ugly sob escaped my lips. My shoulder hung awkwardly, and I was pretty sure it was dislocated; my ribs burned, and I was worried one or more of them might be broken; my breathing had become a fight with nothing but short gasps to draw air into my lungs; but it all seemed inconsequential to the sticky feeling between my thighs that reminded me of what Ben had stolen from me. He had taken so much, but I would be damned if I would let him take my life as well. The cold fingers of death were reaching for me, and however much I felt like succumbing to them, I wouldn’t. After all, it was Tuesday. Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.
The door burst open, and without the sturdy weight to hold me upright, I fell. Blackness took me for a moment, then I blinked open my eyes and looked up into the familiar face of a rugged looking angel. A jagged scar ran down one cheek, starting just above his eye and ending at his jaw. His hair was military short, and his startled light brown eyes stared down at me. He was so handsome and not in perfectly groomed, pretty-boy kind of way. Everything about Drew was rough, with hard lines and imperfections.
“Lola?” a gravelly voice whispered in a panicked tone.
My head lolled listlessly to one side, and my heavy lids forced my eyes shut again. They were only closed for a moment before something wet licked at the skin on my cheek. Forcing my eyes open, I noticed a tiny Yorkshire terrier standing over me. Max, I thought, remembering his name.
“David!” a loud voice roared, and I winced. “Call 911!”
Turning my head so I could look up into those familiar brown eyes took all the strength I could muster. Such beautiful eyes framed with thick lashes, usually so full of kindness, were brimming with fear.
“Mouse, what happened?”
My mouth tried to find a smile, but it couldn’t. This was the first time he had ever spoken to me, and I wished it could have been under different circumstances. Mouse . . . was that how he saw me, a scared little mouse? Right now, in this moment, it was somehow fitting. I had dreamed about how his voice might sound; even watching him with his friends and teammates, he seemed a man of so few words, barely a murmur here and a noncommittal grunt there. And for me, there had never been any. Just intense staring that should have been creepy, but I somehow found comfort in it. My hand rose of its own accord, and a shaking finger ran across his full lips.
“Who did this to you?” he demanded, his voice full of emotion as he took my hand in his much bigger one.
How could someone so big and bear-like be so gentle? Unlike Ben, whose hands were soft and yet delivered nothing but pain. I pushed those thoughts away. I didn’t want to think about Ben; I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to sleep.
“He broke me, Drew, just like he promised.” And with that, the darkness finally took me.