Charlie
THE WALLS IN THE CORNER of the kitchen prop up my throbbing body. But it’s nothing compared to the sadness swallowing me entirely. Austen did what he always does when he gets angry. This time was different though; he wasn’t expecting a fight back. I got a few good shots on him. Even though it felt great to finally stand up for myself, it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t able to overpower him physically. My only chance is if he slips up and I’m able to outsmart him. Austen might be evil, but he isn’t dumb.
Ever since Austen pushed me into the kitchen counter during the fight, a sharp pain radiates in my side every time I take a deep breath. The house is still dark, but Austen’s silhouette darts back and forth across the room. Now that our fight is over, he’s back to frantically racing through the house, grabbing things and shoving them into bags. Wherever he plans on taking me, he’s doing it in a hurry.
“Get up,” he snarls. “Take these.” Austen hands me almost all of the bags. I wince from the pain as he loads my arms full of whatever shit he’s packed. It takes me a few minutes to remember that I’m not his servant anymore. I’m not his obedient little prisoner anymore. My eyes never leave his as I drop the bags to the floor.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
His foul expression used to scare me and crumple me to the floor. Tonight, I match his glare. “Pick them up,” he says through clenched teeth.
“No.”
“Goddammit! I don’t have time for this!” Austen takes a step in my direction, grabs half of the bags, and then hands me the other half. “Move it,” he orders.
Thinking I’ll have a better chance at getting away from Austen once we’re outside, I grab the bags and head to the door.
“Stop.”
He wraps his bony fingers around my arm, digging each finger in painfully. As he pushes me out of the house, the cool breeze sends a shiver down my body. The rain has slowed to a mist, and the world is as dark as it could ever be. Once we make it off the porch, I look around to where I would run first. Nobody is going to be awake at this hour, so running to someone’s house will be a waste of time. Austen would have me before they even got out of their beds. My painful breathing begins to get faster as panic settles in. There’s nowhere to run that he won’t be able to catch me. I don’t recognize the car that sits in the driveway. Instead of leading me to the passenger door, he takes me to the backseat. He must have noticed the confused look on my face as he flashes me a stupid smirk. He throws me and the bags into the car, then slams the door shut. When his back turns to me as he opens the driver side door, I pull on the door handle, but the door doesn’t open. Sliding to the other side, I pull on that door handle, but it doesn’t open either. Austen spins around in amusement to face me.
“Child locks, love,” he says.
Still laughing, he twists back around and turns the key. Any chance of running withered away with the start of the engine.
“Don’t call me ‘love’. You’re incapable of love.”
Screeching tires echo in the quiet neighborhood. Austen and I both jump as two large black SUV’s pull in behind the car.
“Shit,” Austen yells as he smacks his hands over and over again onto the steering wheel.
Six large men surround the car and begin banging on Austen’s window. He lowers it and lets out an annoyed sigh.
“What the hell do you want, Raymond?”
It doesn’t surprise me that Austen would know these men. But why are they here and why right now? They don’t resemble high-class businessmen working for an honest dollar. These men are rough around the edges and dressed not to be seen. Their black attire camouflages them in the night.
“Get out,” Raymond demands.
“You should be in prison. You know that? Who got you community service and a slap on the hand? Me! Now get the fuck out of my way.”
Austen doesn’t get the window rolled all the way up before it shatters all over his lap. The high-pitched glass breaking triggers my reflexes, and I shield my body. Four men rush the driver side door and rip Austen out of the car. With my hand holding my side, my entire body trembles. These men don’t look much different than the ones who kidnapped me only a day ago. The two other men open my door, and pain sears through my body as I quickly slide to the other side. One of them gestures for me to come out, which is strange considering how they just forcefully removed Austen.
“Come out, or we’ll get you out.”
There’s no doubt they’ll be able to. As I hesitantly begin sliding back to the open door either to my saviors or my doom, I wince in pain.
“Easy,” he says.
His word of caution momentarily eases a small portion of my fears. A killer wouldn’t tell you to be careful one minute and then kill you the next. Right? I step out of the car and straighten my pained body. The dark-haired man looks me over from hair to toe, then grips my arm firmly but not too tight. Five more fingers wrap around my other arm, and they both lead me to the black SUV. Austen yells and struggles against the power of the four men. None of them are being gentle with him. Three of them drag him into the back of the SUV, and the other one gets in and drives away.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Red. Stop talking,” one of the men says as he helps me get into the back. He sits in the seat next to me. His red hair falls a little over his forehead as he removes the ball cap he had on. My body stills, unable to breathe as he leans over me. Oh, God. Please tell me he’s not going to touch me. The seatbelt tugs over my chest and lap and clicks in place.
As we pull away, the driver asks, “She buckled?”
Green eyes quickly rake over my body. “Yep.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Both men act like I didn’t say a word. We pull onto the highway, and the driver slams on the gas. Red’s phone rings.
“Got her.”
He says two words, then goes silent for one second before he just hangs up the phone. Who was he talking to? Why do they want me if they have Austen?
“Ribs?” Red asks, his head nodding towards my hand still holding onto my side.
“I think so. I got shoved into the counter.”
Something flickers in his eyes and, if I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like fury.
Fuck this God forsaken city. I didn’t miss Portland. It’s sad to say, because it was my home and I loved it here. But Austen ruined the City of Roses with his poison. Unless I felt safe enough to visit Sara, she would be the only reason I would ever come back to this place. Yet here I am. In a scary black SUV with blackened windows and two men who look like they could annihilate me with one finger. Rain is gone, and I’m once again a lost soul. My thoughts are interrupted by Red.
“Let’s go.”
I had been staring at my knee and not paying attention to where we were going. The SUV is stopped. Red opens the door, steps out, and then holds his hand in my direction to help me out. Sitting motionless, I don’t know whether I should put my hand in his.
“Where are we?” I whisper to him.
“Hospital. C’mon.”
Confusion takes the place of fear.
“Where’s Austen?”
“Not here,” he says, then jerks his head to the side, motioning for me to get out.
As I begin to slide across the seat, I hiss as the sharp pain radiates up my side. Red’s arms suddenly cradle me as he picks me straight off of the seat and lifts me out of the vehicle. He puts me gently down on the sidewalk.
“Go on.”
Turning his back to me, he walks around and gets in the front passenger side. The SUV takes off, and I’m left standing on the steps of the medical center. I don’t know what to do. I have no identification or insurance. But I’m in pain so I walk in.
“Hi there, can I help you?”
“I—”
“Charlie.”
The unfamiliar voice came from down the hall. I spot a man jogging toward me. All these strange people tonight have me about ready to lose my mind.
“Charlie,” he says again.
“Yeah?”
“C’mon.”
“Oh my God. Will this ever end?” I cry, looking to my hands.
“Stop fighting, I’m not going to hurt you.”
He is an older man, with kind light-blue eyes and a crooked smile. He isn’t heavy, but he isn’t necessarily in shape either. Regardless, after tonight, I don’t trust anyone.
“I’m not going with you,” I say quietly. “I don’t know you and I’ve had my fill of strange, scary men these last few days.”
He comes closer and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t know who sent you or why you want me, but I don’t want to be found anymore. Get your hand off of me and get away, or I’ll scream and have security here in two seconds.”
“Rain sent me.”
My head shoots up and tears well up so fast, they fall down my face before I can comprehend what he just said.
“Rain?”
“He’s upstairs.”
“He’s here? He’s alive?”
“He’s going to be okay. But you—” Before I let him finish his statement, I fling myself into him and sob into his shoulder. It felt good to hug someone that didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt me. He wraps his arms around my body and holds on while I let my emotions pour out of my soul. Those five words mended my shattered and dried-up heart. When Austen began his reign of terror on me, there was never a thought of being able to fall in love again. I never thought I would be able to put enough trust into another human in order to let them in. Rain wasn’t planned, and he wasn’t someone I thought I could give myself to until it was too late. Realizing that I’m hugging a stranger in the middle of the emergency room, I regain my composure and let him go. A hiss comes from my chest as the pain from my side stabs me with the movement of my arms.
“I want to see him,” I choke out through the pain.
“You need to get checked out. I have a doctor waiting for you.”
“Take me to him, please.”
“Not until you’ve been seen.”
“But there’s all these other patients,” I say, looking into the full waiting room.
“Don’t worry.”
“Before I go with you, tell me who you are?”
“Jerry. I’m Jerry Klipp.”
The doctor put butterfly strips on a few of my cuts, except for one on my forehead just under my hairline and the puncture under my jaw, which both needed stitches. My ribs were painful, and it hurt more when pressure was added, when I took a deep breath, or if I twisted, and he said those are the classic signs. I was asked multiple questions about the domestic violence I had been putting up with. The doctor asked if I wanted to file a police report, and Jerry clearly shook his head for me not to. There was a moment when I began to tell the doctor about being kidnapped and, again, Jerry shook his head no. The vibe that came from him wasn’t dangerous or demanding. I don’t know why I listened to him other than the fact that I got a “dad” sense from him. Jerry sat in the office with me the entire time other than when I was taken for X-ray. On the way to get the X-ray, I told the nurse that I thought I was pregnant, so she diverted us and the test was run. The ultrasound was taken. The results both relieved me and broke my heart all at the same time. When we eventually got back into the room, Jerry was still sitting in the chair I left him in.
“I feel sick,” I say as I press my hand to my stomach while trying to not throw up. I can only imagine the pain that would cause my rib.
The doctor turns his head to the side. “Could be from your head trauma.”
“I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll take you to the cafeteria,” Jerry says.
“If you haven’t eaten in that long, you have to for the sake of the b . . .” the doctor stops talking and flashes his eyes to Jerry and then back to me.
“It’s okay,” I tell the doctor.
“It’s important to eat as soon as possible for the baby.”
Jerry’s eyes bulge for a second before he brushes his hand over his gray stubble.
“I’ll eat. I promise.”
The doctor nods. “I need to inform you on the reality of the serious trauma you just went through. Everything looks okay now, but if you begin to bleed, you should come back to the emergency room.”
“I know.”
The doctor gives me a solemn nod as he walks out. My eyes lower to my lap knowing that I’m pregnant now, but there’s a good possibility I won’t be for long.
I feel like I’m going to be here forever attached to these monitors. They have been monitoring me for hours. I keep picturing that little shape with a head, body, and tiny stubs for arms and legs. A fast repeated flicker flashed on the screen. My baby’s heartbeat.
Just as I had calculated earlier, I’m about eight weeks along, according to the ultrasound. They want to observe me for a little while to make sure I don’t begin to bleed even though there’s nothing they could do if I started to lose this baby now. But as it stands, everything looks fine. Except my future.
As Jerry looks at his phone, I can’t help but wonder why he told me not to file a report against Austen.
“Why shouldn’t I tell the doctor about Austen? Or being kidnapped?”
“Because neither of those things are of your concern anymore. I’ve taken care of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I told you, you would know too much.”