Page 22 of Under Her Skin

I want answers.

As this floats through my mind, Cal hands me the tissues. Blowing my nose and dabbing the tears away, I stiffen when the door opens, not knowing who or what it will be. Turning, my shoulders slump when I see them.

Chase’s voice cracks, “Ava,” just as the twins echo, “You’re awake!” Their excitement at my alertness brings a much needed smile to my face.

Shoving each other out the way to give me hugs and kisses, I laugh again. They always know how to lighten the mood. Their gentle, familiar embrace feels like home. Chase steps back, letting the twins smother me with firm tender affection. I hadn't realized how much I needed and missed this.

“Ava, I know that this can’t be easy. We are all here for you.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair. His hair looks like he has been doing that gesture so much that it stuck that way. He looks down, as if he is gathering himself. Does he have more bad news? “Mom and dad are on their way. They hoped to be here before you woke up. They are going to be so very happy that you are awake.”

Nodding in understanding, I untangle from the firm grips of my brothers - too much touch is beginning to make my skin crawl, a downfall of my time with him. I get why he was so hesitant about informing me. I still don’t get along with them and this is no time for a happy family reunion. Maybe with all the trauma I suffered they will back off. That is a huge maybe.

My brothers stand huddling around me, relieved to see me, but there’s a vibe, an aura of emotions swirling between the men stoically standing guard around my hospital bed. I love them, and I’m happy to see them, but none of them will look me in the eye. The awkwardness climbing to suffocating levels, I finally snap. “What the hell is everyone’s problem?”

The mutters of the group follow my outburst. “Chase, come on!” He glares at our brothers, sighing.

“We feel guilty. We should have known Kiel would NEVER leave what we did to him unchecked. We thought he would just live his life, not personally seek us all out and attempt to destroy us.” His shoulders slump further in on themselves. “We never thought, Ava .. that he would take you …” I watch as the twins sink further into themselves as well.

“Is this why you all are avoiding looking me in the eyes?” I do my best to choke down the emotions. I don’t want them to walk on eggshells with me. The skittering around the bush or elephant or whatever. That evil bastard took enough from me; I don’t need him taking this too. Shaking my head, I swallow to stop the quivering from my voice. “P-please don’t … Let’s agree that you are not at fault. He did this to me; he made the choice; he made those decisions to take me. Not any of you. I k-knew-” My voice shakes with untold emotions. “I knew that my brothers would turn this planet upside down hunting me down.”

There is a stagnant moment until they all relax, ruffling my hair and giving gentle squeezes of affection. Who would have known that my overbearing, alpha male brothers would need little ol’ me to reassure them that it was okay, that this wasn’t their fault, and that we can move forward. I guess no matter your size or your strength, sometimes you just need someone to say the words to alleviate the hidden guilt. Those words were like a warm hug, thawing out the guilt and ice that hardened their hearts.

I can at least help them with this. I can help them, even though I don’t think I can help myself.

Chase clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. Rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of frustration. “Tony and Paige are on their way too.” The news that my crazy best friend is on her way lightens my spirits. I love my family, but I can’t handle the judgment, the ‘what were you thinking about’ lectures, and God knows what else my parents will throw my way. What I need is my best friend who loves nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and bring chaos in full force. She always knows how to bring me back into the light - her hidden gift that she shares with so few.

Knowing that more support is on the way, I have time to think and question what I did. Question what happened after I saw Cal. I know my brothers are here; I know that Cal was the last thing I saw before I fainted. But what about hell mansion and the vile man who kept me there?

I don’t know how to find the words to ask, but I know that I must. It’s vital. This overwhelming need to find out if I killed him. It won’t stain my soul. It won’t keep me up at night. I think the world would thank me if they knew what I did, how I saved some other poor soul from the hellish nightmare I lived for who knows how long. But to find the words to ask, the fear of hearing the words that I didn’t succeed. I’m not sure if this will crumble my carefully put together facade, the one that is alleviating the tension and the guilt that is slowly permeating through this compact room that wreaks of bleach.

Clearing my throat snags the attention of the males lounging. I look from one face to the next. Cal stoically keeps watch by the door, not allowing a single soul to slip in without his permission. I can see the detectable stress lines around his mouth and deep blue eyes. It hurts me to see that he is still standing guard, keeping parts to himself. Maybe it is only because of my brothers, but I’m too afraid to ask. Chase and the twins are doing an incredible job of locking down their anger, their guilt, and showcasing the fun-loving brothers. Yet their stress lines mirror each other, deep lines showing at the corners of their eyes. Hating what I am about to ask, I push through my discomfort.

“Is he dead?” I wait. The men shuffle in their seats. “Seriously, did I kill him? I need to know.” They quickly glance at each other. After years of working together, they have perfected the silent communication. My patience snaps. “Damn it, answer my fucking question. I deserve to know!” After my outburst, my breaths come in pants, something so little taking a toll on my battered body. Another part of myself that this heinous experience has taken its toll on.

Again, my declaration is met with silence. I’m on the verge of throttling one of them when Cal stands. He walks to me, my brothers shuffling away to make room. He gets to his knees, gently reaches for my hands. His hold is so gentle it feels like a whisper of a touch as he hovers above my skin. Then, with slow unhurried movement, Cal cups my cheeks, staring deep into my eyes. I can hear the whisper of his breath puffing against my face.

“Ava.” He lightly rubs his thumb up my cheekbones, an intimate caring touch, something I have yearned for while in the hands of the devil himself. “You did some damage. B-but we were more worried about retrieving you and getting you to safety.” He shakes his head, his thumbs gliding along the apple of my cheek. “He escaped in the melee. We went back and did a thorough search; the place is empty. No servants. No guards. Nothing.”

Cal stares deeply into my eyes, while I take the news he imparted. He watches closely. I see the ache this caused. It was almost as though he and my brothers had hoped that they would not have to have this conversation - as though I would simply forget, that my traumatized brain would block out all the bad, that it would delete my last few hours in that vile piece of shit’s hands. Sadly, my mind never works that way. It seems to thrive in forcing me to relieve my deepest, most horrific traumas over and over again.

The news hits me in the face like a sledgehammer. My breath comes in quick pants. The machines around me go berserk. The men surrounding me all carry a shocked expression … As if they thought his escape would - what, give me relief? What the fuck ever. The beeping becomes more rapid. There is a scurry of motion at the door as a herd of nurses come running into the room.

Calmly with a firm gentleness, they push and manhandle the much larger men out of their way. A quick assessment and the stern-faced nurse steps forward, a syringe in hand.

Is it wrong that the first thought that flits through my mind is: ‘Thank God. I need the numbness? I need the good stuff’. But I never feel a prick, knowing and yet not comprehending in that moment that in a hospital they do everything intravenously. They don’t stick you in the neck - yet another mark of damage to my tattered soul.

The beeping noise becomes slower and slower as my lids become heavier and heavier, until I can’t open them anymore. In the blackness, I hear light footsteps and heavier staggered lumbering steps, probably the cause of combat boots. I hear soft murmurs of apologies. I feel soft kisses touching my forehead. Lastly, a mumbling whisper of “I love you.”

21

AVA

I stare out the floor to ceiling windows, sitting in the most comfortable bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets and anything else Cal felt would sooth my battered soul. The view takes my breath away, just like the first time I looked out to the forest that engulfs Cal’s property.

He has done anything and everything he can think of to make my transition from tortured hostage, to beaten victim, to a recovering survivor as seamless as possible. I’m not ungrateful. It’s been a long road to recovery, months and months slipped by as I recuperated in the hospital. I stayed at the hospital to heal from the physical damage until I was strong enough to be transferred to a drug treatment facility.

Overcoming my need, my addiction, was not easy. I relied so heavily on the drugs; it was like a warm, comfy security blanket, pulling me from the nasty reality that Kiel was shoving at me and allowed me to sink into its cozy embrace.

Cal and my brothers have been the best. A bit overbearing, but I should have expected as much. They take turns watching out for me. From the moment I woke up at the hospital, someone has been at my side, step by step. Comforting as it has been, I don't know if I can handle much more of their mother henning me.

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