“We’ll take it slowly. But I need to work out how to help you.”
“Okay.” Lifting her cup slowly, she lets the coffee slide down her throat slowly, in no hurry to start.
“Did someone try to hurt you?”
Her fingers latch tighter on to the handle, her knuckles white. My hand reaches forward and cups her chin, turning her head so she’s looking directly in my eyes.
“Baby, it’s all going to be alright. Whatever has you spooked, I can deal with it.” Leaving my fingers on her chin for a second more, I feel her gulp then nod. I replace my hand on her thigh to reassure her.
“I’d locked up the shop for the af-afternoon and was doing my last delivery of f-flowers.” Her voice wavers and her struggle to get the words out is visible but I squeeze her leg to encourage her to continue.
“They were f-for an elderly man on the second floor.”
Tears start to form and trail down her cheeks. Using my thumb, I wipe one away. She stares at me.
“I opened the d-door and my eyes fell to a man s-standing next to the bed, pillow in one hand, gun in the other.” Bouncing her legs on the bar stool, her breath catches and she coughs. Taking her hand, I lead her over to the sofa.
“This is better.” I hope my voice soothes her.
Drawing in some air, I get where this is headed and it’s not sounding good for Bluebell. She did the right thing running. “Can you keep going?”
“There was red. Red blood c-coming from his face. My eyes raised to the man and I shouldn’t have looked but… but why would something like this happen here, in a hospital? Why?”
“Unfortunately, baby, there are bad elements everywhere, just most of the population live in oblivion. Never exposed to the underworld and danger associated with it. This life doesn’t touch many but the few it does, it’s ruthless, manic, and at times savage. I’d say you’ve stumbled head-on into a murder, Bluebell.” Tears continue to fall down her silky skin, and her body shakes. “I’m lucky I found you when I did.”
I’ve never spoken truer words in my life.
Sniffling in, trying to hide her distress, she murmurs, “They’ll try and k-kill me, won’t they?”
“They won’t be getting near you. It won’t come to that ‘cause my guys and I won’t allow it. We will work out who the hell they are, who the dead guy is and why he was killed. But because you saw the face of the man, they will want you dead. No witness, no repercussions.”
Her chin falls down to her chest and she breathes out, “I thought so.”
“But we can kill them first.” Unsure if that’s the right thing to say, I need her to know we will keep her unharmed.
Clouded blue eyes strike mine, littered with pain and turmoil and instantly I’m reminded of another time.
Fuck. This girl is not her… internally I try and black my past out.
Heat flows through me, anger starts to brew and full-blown protection mode kicks in. My voice gruffer than I intend, I need her to understand. “I swear you won’t be hurt.”
The earlier connection between us intensifies. Both of us studying the other.
Our eyes meet and stay locked.
Silence envelops us but a calmness flows between us.
Intimate but comfortable.
Friendly and easy.
Bluebell gives her head a tiny shake.
“There’s a major p-problem.” Trying to straighten her body and adjust her breaths so she appears composed, Bluebell closes her lids slowly.
Gathering courage?
Praying to a god?
Unsure if speaking will make it a reality that she isn’t ready to accept?
Sighing, indicating her resignation of trying to hold it in, she spears me with sad eyes. “It was m-my b-brother holding the g-gun.”
Numbness. A crippling sensation which torments the body.
You can get accustomed to living day in, day out being numb. It’s easier than trying to deal with the whys, what-ifs and could-have-beens.
It’s been part of my life now for twenty-plus years. When you find out the person who gave life to you, who is eternally bonded to you by blood chooses a life without you then there’s a coldness that inches through your body, freezing you from outside until it whittles its way completely toward your heart, numbing you completely. Each day for months I would wake thinking today would be the day my mother would realize she was missing a part of her, but she never came looking for me or my brother.
Small things were eliminated first. I gave up smiling and looking at the photos on the wall. I refused to go to the park and play with my friends down the road. I didn’t want to do schoolwork and my love of creating ceased and before I knew it and as I grew older, nothing seemed to engage me or at the same time worry me because I was oblivious to what was happening around me. My body and mind found a way to cope with the rejection.
My father and brother however managed by showing force, by using punishments and with the use of aggression. Subjected to cruel words, beatings, exhaustion, and depravation of any type of care, numbness wrapped its claws into me and has stayed there permanently. I could escape my family for short periods of time when I went into the garden when they weren’t home, but Colton would always find me.
“What?” The look on Ocean’s face says it all. My stomach plummets and I blink slowly trying to get the courage to talk more.
“My brother killed that m-man.” My hands wring in my lap. “I know you probably th-think this is good n-news. A brother surely wouldn’t kill his younger sister.” I gulp and his large hand covers both of mine to steady the shakes coursing through me.
“But?”
“We have bad, to the point of deadly, h-history.” I’m trying to sound strong and composed but the small tear that escapes my eye tells a different story. Ocean, a stranger, a killer I presume, an imposing male, pulls me into his chest and the steady rhythm of his beating heart, calms me.
I relax into him like I was made to fit his body.
“So, your brother knows where you live?”
My body shudders. “No, I don’t think Colton knew I w-was in LA. B-but he does now.”
“You don’t see him then?”
I shake my head slowly and inhale a large intake of oxygen. “It started when I was young, after M-mom left us. He started calling me names, making me do his jobs, deliberately sticking s-scissors, any sharp objects into my skin if I refused. Later, he’d pull my hair to the point of it c-coming out of my scalp if he was angry enough, broke bones by punching me, bruising me everywhere but never to the p-point where I couldn’t work. My arms and legs were always safe, ‘cause Dad and Colton needed me to work in the shop every day.”
Ocean’s arms press into my body a little lighter tensing with my words. I should stop but I need this out. It’s been bottled inside of me for way too long.
“If I wasn’t getting p-punished in the shop for being an idiot or being too slow, I was at home, trying to keep out of both their ways but Colton always found me. A l-lock couldn’t keep either one of them out when they had lost money, drunk too much or f-fed up with life being abandoned by Mom. It took its toll on all of us.”
A large hand wipes the hair that’s fallen onto my face back and he thumbs away my tears. My head rests on his chest still.