Sunday, August 17th – 11:23 am
Pain. It throbbed around and inside Avery’s skull and seared her chest. She shifted, then cried out at the deepening pain. She clutched onto some type of fabric and twisted the material between her fingers.
Slowly, so she didn’t make the pain worse, she eased open her eyes. The ceiling stared back at her. Something was wrong. Nausea rolled through her stomach, threatening to rise up her throat.
Calm down.
She didn’t dare move until the urge to vomit subsided.
This wasn’t a hangover. The pain was too intense.
She lay flat on her back for several minutes as she grew conscious of her surroundings. She slid a hand across a bed and touched a pillow beneath her head. Just as slowly, she turned her head but didn’t relax at the familiar sight of the Arizona desert watercolor painting on her bedroom wall and her nightstand with her e-reader, sandalwood body lotion, earplugs, and girly lamp.
A thin sheet covered her naked body up to her neck.
How? She didn’t remember getting to her condo, never mind undressing. She usually slept in her underwear and a t-shirt.
Panic roared through her body. No. Please God, no! She touched her hip and between her legs with a trembling hand. She didn’t feel violated. She would know if she’d had sex with someone, never mind being raped, wouldn’t she?
She struggled to remember. She’d walked from The Thing, crossed the complex’s parking lot, and had started cutting across the property toward her condo. But she didn’t recall getting to her front door…
Then the pain had hit, exploding against her head. Something or someone must have struck her from behind before she’d blacked out.
That someone must have dragged her inside and attacked her. Rape. They must have. Why else would she be naked? There was no other logical reason she could think of.
She jerked upright. Pain cut into her chest and skull. She cried out and quivered against the onslaught as it crashed and swept through her. Gasping, she sat frozen in the middle of her bed, the top sheet pooled around her hips, grappling for strength as darkness closed in around her. She struggled to keep from fainting.
Daylight streamed through the blinds and into the bedroom window, spearing horizontal lines across the carpet. From the sun’s position, it was late morning or early afternoon. How long had she been asleep? Had she been drugged?
She touched her chest and recoiled. Her fingers had swept across something unfamiliar against her skin.
Choking back a sob, she fumbled from the bed. Her legs buckled, and she grabbed onto the mattress before she pitched forward. After taking a couple of slow, measured breaths, she regained some strength and stumbled into the bathroom. Grabbing onto the lip of the sink, she snapped on the bathroom light. The room flooded into bright, near blinding light. She blinked until she could focus.
She stared at her naked reflection. Her red hair, thick and unkempt, tumbled down past her shoulders. Half circles stamped dark shadows beneath her blue eyes. A bruise stained her temple from probably pitching forward when she fell.
Her gaze traveled lower, past her face, her neck, and froze on her chest.
She gasped. Then a keening noise erupted from her mouth and echoed against the walls and bathroom tile as a fresh wave of panic slammed into her.
No. Impossible
Shuddering, she lifted a hand in horror and touched her skin between her breasts. A horizontal cut, looking as if a high schooler had stitched the skin closed with a thick black string, crossed several inches below her breastbone, while another vertical incision cut across it. Dried blood covered both lacerations.
Oh, my God. No. No. No.
The ruin of her chest wasn’t some mirage or figment of her imagination. Someone had cut her open, operated, and stitched her up afterward.
~~*~~
Luys Martinez grabbed his wallet and stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. After a quick look over his shoulder to make sure the kitten hadn’t moved from her spot from under the coffee table, he scanned the list of errands on his phone, then grabbed his keys, stepped outside, and closed the door. A wall of heat hit him, a shock from his condo’s air conditioning.
The door closed to his left. Movement, a flash of copper hair along his peripheral vision. He stiffened. His next-door neighbor. Avery, the sexy-as-hell redhead. She was usually out doing errands or whatever she did by this time of day. He liked to avoid her. Sometimes he did a pretty good job of it, but this week wasn’t one of them.
He didn’t like being anywhere near her. She reminded him of what he didn’t have. He’d been single for... It didn’t matter how long.
Realizing Avery was walking down the same sidewalk and headed in the same direction, he started to cut across the yard to use a different path to his car but paused when he fully noticed her.
Dressed in a pair of flannel shorts and a large black t-shirt bunched around the waist, she stumbled forward, then weaved back and forth on the sidewalk as if drunk. One of her thin flip-flops threatened to come off as she lurched forward. Then as she turned slightly, he realized her shirt was bunched up because she was clutching the hem to her stomach.
“Hey.” He hurried to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She looked down at the ground, her matted red hair falling forward and shielding her face. “Sure. Just n-need to get to my car.”
“You don’t look fine.” Was Avery roaring drunk in the middle of the afternoon?
He should turn around and walk away. He should mind his own business. He should...
Luys touched her shoulder.
She flinched. Her hair shifted again, this time finally revealing her face. Tear tracks stained her cheeks while the color had leached from her skin, leaving it a sickly gray. A bruise stained her temple. She looked like she might pass out.
As Avery took a step back and away from him, her flip-flop caught on the sidewalk. She pitched sideways, and the purse strapped over her shoulder swung wildly. He grabbed her around the waist before she tumbled to the ground.
She cried out. Sensing he might have hurt her, he almost let go but thought she was better off standing with his help than landing on the decomposed rock by the walkway.
She listed against him. “I’ve...I’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“I’ll call the ambulance.”
“NO. I can take myself.”
He’d been avoiding people for as long as he could remember, and now in his arms, he had a woman ready to faint, for God only knew what.
“You’re not in any condition.”
She pushed him away and took in a shuddering breath as she glanced over to the parking lot. A look of embarrassment cut across her features. “I can’t-I can’t afford the cost of an ambulance.”
“I’ll take you,” he found himself offering.
“I—” She looked up at him and searched his face. She closed her eyes as if she could fight off the pain with sheer willpower. Wavering on her feet, she clutched at his arm to steady herself and looked as if she might fall to the ground at any moment.
He realized she wasn’t in any condition to think clearly and someone needed to do something. It looked like that would have to be him.
“Here. It’s a quick drive to the hospital. Three miles at most.” He picked her up and found her surprisingly heavy. Her muscles slackened beneath his hands, and she slumped against his chest. She’d passed out.
After some struggle, he managed to set her gently on the passenger seat of his sporty Subaru. Then he reached for her seatbelt, accidentally brushing his arm against her chest.
She jerked awake and pushed feebly at his arm. “No! Please. I-I can’t handle the pressure against my body.”
“Ahh, sure.” He quickly retreated, shut her door, and slipped behind the wheel of his car. “Do you want me to contact anyone?”
Silence hung in the air, and he thought she might have passed out again. Then finally, she admitted, “I don’t have anyone.”
“What about out of state?”
“There’s no one.” With both hands balled into fists on her lap, she rested her head back against the headrest. Her throat contracted with a swallow.
He wondered what was wrong with her. She looked fragile and lost. “Did someone hurt you?”
She turned her head and looked out the window in the opposite direction, not answering. Silence howled through the interior of the car for the rest of the drive. He stuffed his thoughts away for another time. If he didn’t ask questions, she’d remain a stranger, someone he couldn’t connect to, wouldn’t feel for.
When he pulled into the parking lot, for a wild moment, he thought she’d died until he caught the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
After a faint protest from her, he carried her from the car, through the entrance of Desert Valley General Hospital, and into the emergency room. This close, he noticed the abrasion on her temple, the dried blood on her upper chest where her t-shirt gaped open. A scent he couldn’t decipher radiated from her. Blood and something else. Something familiar, but he couldn’t distinguish the smell.
At the receptionist’s window, the woman pushed at his shoulder. “Please put me down.”
“Are you sure?”
She closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
He eased her gently to the ground. She sank against his side but remained upright.
The receptionist blinked at them from behind the window before turning her gaze on him. “Are you her next of kin?”
“I—No,” he replied after a pause and shook his head, momentarily disconcerted at the question.
“I need you to fill out the first four screens to the best of your ability.” The woman offered an electronic pad.
He took for his neighbor and frowned at the first line. Last name? Emergency contact? He had no idea on any of it other than her first name.
From beside him, the woman slumped. Before her knees hit the floor, he dropped the pad in a nearby chair, caught her around the waist as her purse fell and its insides scattered across the linoleum. Legs braced, he swept her up against his chest. Her hair caught against the stubble of his chin and cheek.
The receptionist jumped from her chair and disappeared around the doorway behind her. Before he had the chance to decide what to do next, two techs or nurses with a gurney came through another door.
He helped them ease the woman onto the gurney. Her flip-flop slipped from her red-polished toes to land on the corner of the stretcher while her head slid to one side. He swept several strands of hair from her parted lips. She looked like a doll tossed to the road and run over. For months now, he’d secretly wanted to know everything about her: what made her laugh, made her cry, who touched her life, what she believed in—if anything—whether or not life had been kind. But today, kindness didn’t exist in her world. Hopefully, only momentarily. After all, the only constant was change. At least for most people.
He reached over to touch her one last time, having this crazy idea that he could will his strength into her, but the staff opened the door to the restricted section of the hospital and swept her down the hall before he could feel her skin.
“Sir?”
The door closed, and his neighbor disappeared from view.
“Sir?”
He turned to the receptionist back behind the glass panel. “Yes?”
“Do you plan on waiting?”
“I—” He stood between the hallway and waiting room, feeling as if he hung between two worlds. He didn’t want to get involved. The idea terrified him.
The woman nodded to the pad visible in the chair near him and the woman’s purse on the floor by his feet. “I’m going to need her insurance information, social if you know it, name, and address.” Her gaze softened. “If she doesn’t have anyone to contact in case of emergency, she might need someone.”
“Yes, I’ll wait,” he said in a hoarse voice.
He sat in the waiting room, her purse in his lap, her wallet in his hand, and wondered how the devil he got into this situation. For someone who didn’t involve themselves in anyone’s business, he seemed to be getting in quick and deep. He snapped open her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license. Avery Fleming. Auburn hair, blue eyes. 5’ 6” 138 pounds. Her picture stared back at him. It didn’t do her justice.
From the moment he first saw her step out of her condo last year, he’d been gobsmacked. She was beautiful with her thick auburn hair, bee-stung lips, and classic nose. Other than today, she moved like a dancer, smooth, confident, and with a grace he couldn’t help but admire. But there was something more than beauty that drew him to her. An aura radiated from her. There was a worldliness in her face, but also a kindness, as if all the hurt and disappointment she might have suffered hadn’t stopped her from having hope, of believing in something good. He’d ignored her overtures of kindness. He’d made a point of being cold, unapproachable whenever they inadvertently met by their respective front doors or mail alcove, and it had worked perfectly: she’d kept away.
He’d hated causing her to feel uncomfortable, but if she found him obnoxious, he’d be safe. He didn’t dare let anyone into his life.
It was too dangerous.