Ava
There’s a fog around me, thick and heavy. I can’t see anything, but gloom and haze, but I hear a voice. A soft voice, almost like a whisper. It sounds familiar, offering a ripple of a memory. I hear the rumble again and a name comes to mind. Gavin. I take a tentative step forward, arms outstretched like a blind person, and want to call out, but I can’t. I’m supposed to stay quiet.
A whisper sounds again, this time closer. I squint my eyes, trying to find something, anything through the fog, but it just seems to grow thicker. I look up and still see fog, then I look down and gasp. Beneath me is a pool of something dark, something red, growing around me like an open wound. I take a step forward, feeling like I’m wading in a pool—a pool I realize is blood. But who’s blood? It can’t be mine, can it? There’s just so much. I look down at myself, wearing a white, V neck t-shirt, then slowly, red stains appear like magic, growing and spreading until every inch of me is red. I whimper and move my feet faster and faster, but the pool of blood just keeps growing, slowing my steps. Off to my right, horses appear. Three horses I know and love. Slowly, they turn red. Then a man is there. A beautiful man with bright, green eyes, but even those eyes turn red, too. I start crying and turn away, only to see an old man cursing up a storm at the blood stains growing on his shirt. The blood’s so high now, it feels like I’ll drown. I try to swim, but I don’t know how, and the blood is so thick, so much thicker than water. Then there’s another man—an angry man with black eyes. I try to run from him, but no matter where I run, I seem to move closer to him. A red stain appears on his shirt, too, spreading from his heart. “You did this,” he sneers, pointing a finger at his chest. I stand in front of him now, but the man is gone, replaced by a boy with dark eyes, watching the stain creep over his body. He points at me and shouts, “You did this!” I shake my head, crying.
“Ava!”
Someone’s calling to me now. I turn around, but there’s nothing but fog again.
“Ava!”
There’s something on my face, something warm and soothing, causing the fog to lift. My eyes flutter open, and a light appears, bright like the sun.
“Ava,” the voice says again.
I blink, over and over, but everything feels slack. A gentle touch along my jaw turns my head. Then slowly, green eyes come into focus.
Gavin?
“Hey,” he whispers.
I blink again, still not sure he’s real.
But there he is, leaning against my bedside, his face tired and weary, his jaw dark with stubble. Something warm in my right hand has me looking down where I see his fingers wrapped around mine, his thumb moving slowly back and forth along my skin.
I look back at him, feeling so disconnected, and don’t understand why. He must see this, because he says, “You’re on pain killers, baby. Some heavy duty ones, so you’ll probably feel a little funny. And you’ve been out for a few days.”
His words slip through me, but I catch some of them. I look around, seeing a room I don’t recognize.
“You’re at a friend’s house,” he explains. “A friend who’s away for a while.” I see shimmering walls and dark furniture, but it’s all kind of a blur. I look down at the white hospital gown I’m wearing, and at the brace on my left hand. When I turn to him, his eyes are rimmed red.
“You were at the hospital for a few days,” he says, lifting my fingers to his lips. “And the brace is because your hand was…fractured in three places.” He pauses, and reaches over to my left shoulder, and carefully lifts the collar of my gown so I can see the bandage. “And here…here you were shot, baby.” He lets it go and strokes my cheek, while tears well in his eyes. “And you have some cuts on your…body…that needed stitches. But it’ll heal, Ava. It’ll all heal. And…inside you,” he says, his voice cracking. “That will heal too.” A tear streams down his face, then another. “I’m so sorry, Ava. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. And all because of me. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He bows his head, holding my hand between his, and starts to cry, and I cry with him. Everything in me wants to tell him it’s okay, but the words aren’t there. I don’t think they’ll be there for a while. And besides, I’m supposed to stay quiet.
After a bit, Gavin lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with anguish. I look at him then, at the man who came back for me, again. Then I remember—watching him jerk to the ground. My pulse explodes and my eyes go wide, and I search his body for any signs of—.
“Hey, hey—it’s okay. Just grazed me,” he says, lifting up his shirt, revealing a stapled gash in his side. He lets his shirt drop, then takes my hand again and shakes his head. “It should’ve been me, Ava,” he croaks. “That bullet you took should’ve been for me.”
I close my eyes and take a breath, when more memories start flashing through my mind. Memories I can’t quite sort through. I remember Shayne, the beast, losing it. Followed by pain. So much pain. So much pain that I begin to tremble and weep.
“Ava?”
Then a dream, and Gavin appears. He takes me. He takes me away. I remember nighttime, smoke, a fire. But he’s there, waiting for us. Then gunfire. So much gunfire.
“Ava.”
A firm voice brings me back around, but the tears still seep, tumbling down my face. I blink, trying to see Gavin through the haze. Then I hear a voice. Not his, but Shayne’s. The beast. Calling for me. So loud. So loud, I shut my eyes tight while they tear through my mind, working like knives, cutting me to pieces. That strange dark feeling’s inside me again, churning everything up, because I left him behind. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.
“Ava?”
I feel a soft touch along my cheek and open my eyes. Gavin leans forward and gently moves some hair away from my face. His eyes turn glassy, his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready, okay? I know—I know…what you went through…was…” His words fall off and he just stares at me, that guilt so heavy in his eyes.
I manage to slip my hand from his and lift it to his cheek, stroking away the tear that falls. I blink slowly to let him know I don’t blame him. To let him know it’s okay. To let him know I understand. And I do. Everything he did, he did for me. And by the way he looks at me, he knows what I’m saying, but I know he’ll blame himself anyway. But I want to distract him. Help pull him away from that dark hole I know all too well.
So I motion for something to write with, a slew of questions forming in my mind. He blinks and nods, then leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a pen and a pad of paper.
His hands tremble when he lays the pad of paper on my lap and puts the pen in my hand. He sits back down and holds the pad while I write.
My hand is slow, the letters awkward, but I get my first question down. It’s short, but I know he’ll get it.
How?
“Red,” he says, simply.
Red? I hear his voice then, at the door. On that night. That terrible night. Calling for Shayne. Calling the beast away. Calling him away before he could finish what he started.
The pen shakes when I write the next question.
Red started the fire?
Gavin nods, and then I remember. I remember Red tackling Shayne. I remember hearing his voice. ‘Go on! Get her out of here! I got this.’
I’m afraid of his next answer. I don’t even have to write the question.
He shakes his head. “He didn’t make it, baby.”
A sob stumbles out of me and I close my eyes.
“Hey. He wanted to do this for you. He loved you, Ava. He said he’d loved you all his life. And he knew he’d hurt you. He couldn’t live with that. He said he needed to make things right. No matter the cost. And he did, baby. He did.”
The words rip me apart. So many tears. So many tears fall down my cheeks, thinking of the little boy with red hair and freckles who saved my life. I even think of that night with him, those things that Shayne made us do. Of the way his eyes looked so lost, so helpless…so much like mine. But he saved me from a worse fate then—saved me from those other two—then he saved me again, only this time by giving his life for me.
Gavin’s holding me now. Holding me while I cry. I cry so hard, and can’t stop.
It’s some time later that I’m finally quiet, but the tears still seep, staining my cheeks. So many dark memories flip through my mind, until I settle on one, when another man had been ready to give up his life for me. And it all comes back to me then. All the horrible things I said to Gavin. My body’s shaking when I grab the pen and scribble it down.
The things I said to you. The things—
His hand is on mine, stopping the words. I look at him, but he just shakes his head. “It’s okay. Really. Ava, wait, look at me. I know what you were doing. Red explained it to me. I get it.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “You were just trying to protect me. And if I’d been a little smarter, I would’ve seen what you were doing. And I wouldn’t have left you with him. I would’ve figured out a way, to keep you from him. And I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so—I’m so sorry I left you with him. If I could go back, I would do it so much differently.”
His eyes start to fill again, and he leans his forehead against my hand. We stay like that, the tears falling, until another question hits me. A question that screams so loud in my head, I wonder how it only just came to me. I look to Gavin, my eyes wide, my mouth open.
He knows instantly what I’m asking.
“He’s missing, Ava. They’re looking for him now. In fact…the detective will want to talk with you, probably later today, now that you’re awake.”
I hear Gavin’s voice, but the only word I can focus on is, ‘missing.’
No. No. No.
That means—that means…the horses…Ben…I begin shaking my head, but Gavin grabs me and holds my face. “Hey, hey. Everyone’s okay. Everyone’s safe.”
No. He doesn’t understand. He’ll get to them. He’ll get to them all. Not just what I care about, but Gavin too.
I become hysterical, thrashing about, when Gavin grabs me and takes me carefully in his arms and moves to the window, cradling me against his chest and holding me tight.
“Look outside, baby,” he says. “Look outside.”
The pleading in his voice has me pushing aside the terror and looking through the glass. It’s all a blur at first. But then…I see a meadow. A meadow with three…horses. Three…familiar…horses. Grazing.
“See, they’re safe, Ava. They’re all safe.”
I shake my head, not believing. But there they are. All three.
“And I tried to send Ben on a vacation,” he goes on, “but the stubborn bastard wouldn’t leave, so I at least got him to let me post guards all around his place. Had to bribe him with a new tractor, and even then I didn’t think he’d let me do it, until I told him it would make you feel better. Still wouldn’t stop cursing though, about how all he needed was his goddamn shotgun.”
Safe, just like he promised. All safe. I can’t believe it. He did it.
But then—I point to his chest, my finger shaking.
“I’m covered too, baby. Red warned me good. So my mom and her husband are on a long vacation, some place I don’t even know.” When he sees me not understand, he smiles again. “She’s good now. She’s in remission. So this is well needed. And as for me, the only other thing I care about is right here in my arms. He can have my career, my house, all of it. I don’t care about anything else.”
He presses his lips to my forehead and I start crying again.
“Shhh, baby,” he soothes. “It’s alright now. It’s all going to be alright now. And we’re safe here. We can stay as long as we need to. This place is set up like a fortress. And only a few trusted people know where we are. So it’s all okay, Ava. It’s all okay.”
After so much darkness, it’s overwhelming. When my cries settle, I curl my head up under his chin and stare out at the horses—at Sadie, and Jackpot, and Chester. They’re munching away, probably happier here because the meadow looks irrigated, and I’m sure the grass back home is all dried out now.
Home.
The word slams into my chest, but I push it from my mind. I have so much else to be grateful for. So much else. Too much in fact. Including the man that’s holding me in his arms, resting his cheek against my hair. He breathes slowly, his heartbeat strong against my body.
Then something distracts me. A pressure on my bladder. I slide my head back and look at him, then look past his shoulder to a door that reveals a bathroom beyond.
He nods, then gives me a kiss on the cheek and carries me there. I don’t look at the site in the mirror. I’m not ready yet. And I don’t know how I’m going to manage to even stand, but Gavin places me gently down on the toilet.
“I’ll give you a minute,” he says, then closes the door behind him.
The bathroom has the same old-world feel of the room. An old fashioned sink, with a gilded mirror above it. A big shower stall with natural rocks and an ornate glass door. I look at it all so I won’t think about the pain that will come once I start to go. And it does. But I grit my teeth and get through it. I guess the pain meds can only do so much.
Once my bladder is empty, I test my legs out and use the sink to slowly stand. My legs shake beneath me, but I manage to take a few steps, until I’m in front of the faucet. I still can’t bring myself to face the mirror yet, and instead look at the toothbrushes in the cup, one still in its packaging. There’s a tube of toothpaste too, so I brush my teeth, feeling like I need to start somewhere.
Once I’m done, I lift my eyes and face the girl in the mirror. I suck in a breath when I see her—a battered ghost of the girl I used to be. But I don’t look away. I won’t. Slowly, I close my eyes and undo the ties on the gown with my right hand and let it slip down my arms. It falls to the ground, and I stand there, my lids shut tight. I know what’s coming. It’s not like I haven’t seen myself like this before. But back in that room—my grey room—there was so much darkness covering everything, including the way I saw myself, that it all just blended everything together. But here—here in this light, in this place, everything’s so much more revealed. But it’ll heal. It’ll all heal I tell myself, just like Gavin said. The outside anyway. Well, most of the outside. And some of the inside. But there’s a brand on my hip, and a thick jagged scar around my ring finger, and so many other scars that aren’t going anywhere. And then there’s my heart and soul, filled with such dark things now. I force all the thoughts aside and clench my fists. I’ve got to face her sometime.
When I open my eyes, the air leaves my lungs.
There’s an odd sound. A choked cry that I think is me.
Or maybe that’s Gavin. I hear him at the door, knocking softly, asking if I’m okay.
I’m sliding now, my legs not able to hold me up anymore. But then he’s there, holding me. Holding me while I cry.
When I feel Gavin shaking, I know he’s crying too. But he holds me. Just holds me, rocking me back and forth in his arms, whispering it’ll be okay. He takes my chin and makes me look at him. “It’ll heal, Ava. It’ll take time, but it’ll heal. And the things that—the things that—” His voice cracks. “There are ways to remove those things. I’ll get the best for you. And I’ll take care of you. I’ll help you. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here for you, baby. I’m here for you.”
His words ease that horrible ache tearing me apart inside. He holds me against his chest, and eventually my sobs settle and my tears slow. He strokes my hair and whispers soft words. Words that soothe. Words that start to help me heal, just those first little bits. I breathe in deep, and that’s when I smell the smoke, still clinging to my hair. I look past him to the shower. I need to wash it away. I need to wash it all away.
I look to him and he frowns. “It’ll hurt, Ava. These cuts…”
My eyes go to the shower again, then back to him.
“Alright, baby. Alright.” He gently picks me up. “Can you stand?”
I nod, and he sets me carefully on my feet, and while I hold the sink, he starts the shower. Once it’s going, he looks back at me and I can see the conflict on his face. It’s only then I realize I’m naked. I’m so used to it now, I don’t think anything of it. He swallows hard, and asks, “Do…you want to do this on your own, or—”
I shake my head.
He nods and pulls his shirt off, then his sweats. He’s left in boxer briefs, which he keeps on, and I see the gash in his side again. A gash that’s there because of me. It blurs through the tears, then I wonder if he can get wet…if we both can get wet. I look to the shower and back to his side, then at my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he says. “No baths though. Not yet anyway. We’ll leave the bandage on, and Janet will be here in a bit to tend to you anyway. But we’ll take this off.”
He reaches over and carefully takes the brace off my left hand. It’s not as swollen as before, but it’s bruised, and then there’s the thick scar around my ring finger. Gavin runs his thumb over it, followed by a gentle kiss.
The lump grows in my throat and I stare at him as he lets my hand go. That’s when I notice he looks a little leaner, a little more cut than before. Like he’s lost weight, too. But he’s still so beautiful…so beautiful, I can’t stop staring. Just like when I saw his body the first time. And here I am…
I look down at my naked and battered body, at my ribs showing, at the endless brutal patchwork of bruises, and cuts, and stitches, and scars…so many scars. More tears spill down my cheeks, but his finger is under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “Hey. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. That will never change. Never. Understand me?” His voice has an edge to it, a hard determination that makes me nod, because I want to believe him.
I have to believe him.
He looks at me a moment longer, making sure I understand, then leads me to the shower, where the nozzle sprays the far wall. His hands are on me now, steadying, as he guides me in, just like he did that night when he guided me into the bathtub. Only that time was different.
He closes the door behind us, then holds me in front of him, his eyes meeting mine. “You sure about this?”
I nod.
“Alright. Front or back first?”
I turn around, so my back’s to him.
He places one hand on my waist, one hand on my shoulder. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod and brace, then he reaches up and slowly turns the spray onto my body.
It’s like a thousand daggers stabbing me all at once. I gasp and whimper, feeling that strong pull to be quiet. I try to manage the pain, try to center my breathing, but it’s not working.
My body begins to cave, but he’s there, holding me strong. Tears bleed into the water, running down my face while I try so hard not to think about how I got to this place. The water seeps everywhere, including to that place between my legs. I feel the burn and stagger back into Gavin, clenching my teeth. But he stands there, unwavering, whispering into my ear how brave I am, how strong I am. I begin to cry and want so bad to give up, but his words are there, giving me the strength to keep going. Slowly, I turn around, then collapse into him when the water hits my back. I want to scream, but I bury my head in his chest and simply weep from the pain. Gavin’s chest begins to shake, and I know he’s weeping too.
But those whispers keep coming, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. Slowly, the pain begins to fade and I look up into his eyes—eyes rimmed red and filled with tears. His jaw is clenched tight, his face etched in pain, as though he’s suffering with me.
He cradles my head and I see tears slide down his cheeks while he gazes at me. But I’m better now, the pain has settled, and he sees that. He reaches for the soap and asks for permission. I nod and hold onto him while he rubs it between his hands and sets it down. Then ever so gently, he begins to wash me, brushing his soapy fingers over each and every bruise, every welt, every cut, as though it will wash away the memory that put it there. He whimpers when I whimper, he cries when I cry, our souls forging a bond that feels so strong it could hold back the tide, even though in so many ways, we’re still strangers. One night. One messed-up, beautiful night is all we had together, and yet I feel like I’ve been with him every night since then. Because in many ways, I have. He’s been in my thoughts, my dreams, my memories, like a dark knight who never ever left my side, even when I left his.
He’s washing my hair now, so gently, so carefully. I feel light begin to trickle in, like someone is slowly drawing back the curtains and letting the sun shine in, one golden ray at a time. I feel so cherished, so cared for. Just like that night, that stormy night, when he soothed my every ache so reverently.
By the time we’re done and he turns the shower off, I feel more like myself than I have in a very, very long time.
I look up into his eyes, swollen and red, like mine. When I press my lips tight, he knows I’m trying to say thank you. He smiles, and places a soft kiss on my forehead. Then his eyes fall to my lips, where they linger. But his jaw clenches and he looks away, then goes to open the door. I hold him back and guide his eyes back to mine.
I gaze up into his face with longing.
Please.
There’s a hardness in his face. A hardness I’ve seen before, when he was trying to protect me. But he doesn’t deny me this time, instead his gaze drops again to my lips and his hands come up and cradle my face. Then slowly, he leans down and places his lips gently onto mine. It’s a kiss of fairy tales. A healing kiss. A soothing kiss. So loving, so pure, so honest. It’s a kiss that slays my dragons and turns my world around, bringing me right side up, at least for now, reminding me that even though there is darkness in the world, there is still light to be found. I feel him. Feel his love, his caring, his desire. Yet, I still feel the demon, caged just below the surface, filled with rage and darkness and torment, that for the moment he has reigned tightly in, keeping it from me in this tender moment. Keeping me safe, even from him.
When he finally pulls back, we stare at each other for a long moment, all the while his fingers offering gentle caresses along my jaw. I’m not sure what the future holds, but somehow, in some way, with this beautiful man before me—gazing at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world—I feel ready and able to take that first step. That first step back into a new world.