Page 203 of Plaything

What did he do to her? My blood boiled when I saw the red imprint of the bottom of a shoe just below her ribs. My brows knitted in hatred for Charles Whitlock.

I felt nauseous that he’d torn her clothes off—intentionally or not. It was, by definition, sexual assault. As if he hadn’t exposed her to enough of that...

Niko took a breath behind me, almost wincing himself. “My God.”

Her hands moved in an attempt to cover herself. She was ashamed when we heard her father patronize her; I knew she was embarrassed for us to see what he did to her. If we felt sick just looking at her and hearing what’d happened, I couldn’t imagine how she felt.

The only person who should be embarrassed was her piece-of-shit father. He deserved to die, and I knew now that his cancer was karma in disguise.

Much too quickly for her trembling body, she all but leaped out of the car, clinging to my body. She would have fallen on her weak legs if I weren’t directly outside the door. I held her tight—cautious of any bruises she could’ve had. She sobbed into my chest, her hands fisted in my shirt.

My heart was broken for her. A father was supposed to be a man their daughters could trust. Fathers—men—didn’t do this. I didn’t know if she’d ever fully recover from what Charles did to her tonight. Therapy couldn’t undo the punches he threw. She’d never forget how tonight felt; I couldn’t save her from that.

As gently as possible, I lifted her into my arms, holding her under her knees and back as I began walking inside. “I’ve got you,” I promised in an attempt to pacify her weeps.

I locked eyes with my friends, seeing them all with shocked expressions. Niko’s eyes were red around the edges, emotion threatening to spill. Aiden looked horrified—rightfully so. This was worse than we’d imagined. So, so much fucking worse. Dominic’s fists were balled so tightly that the scars on his hands reopened, making blood trickle down his knuckles and onto the gravel.

Oh yeah, I was giving him the keys. There was no guard, no gate, no door that could contain him. His emotions were like a bullet; there was no going back once the trigger was pulled. Charles deserved to have the everliving life beat out of him by someone his own size—bigger, actually.

Odette’s grip didn’t loosen on me or my shirt as I carried her inside. Her tears could have been from pain, acceptance and realization, shock, or maybe relief that she was home. It didn’t matter why she cried; I’d let her soak my shirt for hours if that was what she needed.

I sat on the sofa with her in my arms. She curled into me, pulling her long legs to her chest and burying her face in my neck. The initial sobs had lessened, her cries turning into the occasional hiccup, sniffle, and exhausted breathing.

Niko sat at my side, silently examining her bruised knees, stomach, and whatever else Charles wounded. He’d blink quickly every few minutes, fighting any tears that wanted to escape.

“Vincent said someone named Anthony called the police and filed a report,” Aiden said as he and Dominic finally came inside. Jamie’s car pulled up a few minutes ago before leaving again. I was glad that Vincent called her to take him home.

“Wyatt, take her to the car; we’re going to the hospital,” he added. I was sure he had thought of a clear plan, but barking orders wouldn’t help.

Odette shook her head against my neck. “I’m not going to the hospital,” she croaked.

An inaudible, frustrated sigh escaped Aiden as he paced the living room. “Babydoll, you could have a concussion, head trauma, a broken bone, or internal bleeding with how your stomach looks—”

“Aiden...” Niko interrupted quietly. He shook his head once as if telling him to take it down a notch. She was stressed—we were all stressed enough without him trying to rationalize this. Everyone knew he meant well, but this was one of the rare occurrences where Aiden Anderson’s brain and mouth weren’t quite linking.

“Fine,” Aiden reluctantly let up, stopping in front of us where he crouched down. “Please let Dominic look,” he asked her in a much softer manner. “For my sanity...”

A few seconds passed as we waited for her response. Her breath on my neck stopped as she pulled away from me, sliding down my thigh until she sat next to me. It was unusual to see her slouched down like she was, arms wrapped around her middle protectively. Her usual posture was almost too perfect. Either her body hurt too severely, or she didn’t care enough to correct herself.

Taking the subtle invitation to examine her, Dominic took Aiden’s place. His murderous eyes softened as he took her in, quickly saddening. “What hurts the most?”

Odette was still as she stared at him. Her expression was void, trapped in her own thoughts. Finally registering his question, she lowered her eyes. “Um,” she paused. “I don’t know?” She spoke softly. Tightening her arms around herself, she looked back at him. “My arms,” she answered.

Covered by the long sleeves of her blouse, I took note of her arms shaking. She hadn’t moved them much either—not that she was moving much at all, but her arms were especially tense.

Before Dominic had to ask, she tried to roll her sleeve but winced at the touch. Instead, she slowly removed the blouse, shrugging it down her shoulders where Dominic helped her slide it off her arms, leaving her in a bra.

My mouth dropped open, but I quickly pulled myself together before she noticed. Her forearms were both bruised and swollen. It was clear she tried to block Charles’ punches. Her wrists and upper arms had purple marks in the shape of a hand where he’d grabbed her.

As I imagined her trying to put up a fight, my stomach tightened, and I began to feel sick.

Dominic held her hands in his as he inspected her arms. After making her wiggle her fingers and bend her elbow, he moved on to her ribs, then her stomach, knees, and finally her face. “Nothing looks broken,” he said. “Your bruises will get darker and more painful in the next few days,” he informed.

“Where’s the folder?” She suddenly asked, frantically looking around the area and each of us.

Niko pulled it out from behind his back, where he put it after sitting down. “I’ve got it,” he murmured, handing it to her.

A sigh of relief filled the space as she held it in her lap. She blinked quickly before pointing to the tab. “What does this say?” She asked.

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