Page 13 of Protecting Olivia

Well damn. Without thinking, I turned Olivia in my arms and held her to my chest.

“You are not a victim! You are strong and tough and survived a horrible ordeal,” I told her.

She continued to shake, and I could feel the pain radiating from her body.

When she closed her eyes she explained, “No, I really am. You wanna know what I thought about while I was lying on that floor? That I was going to die in there. I wasn’t trying to escape. I was making peace with my death. A victim does that. Someone strong would’ve fought.”

“Enough! What were you going to do exactly? Do you know how many men were holding you?”

“No.”

“If you had somehow gotten out of that room, you had no idea what you were up against. Did you have some weapon I didn’t see?”

“No.”

“Right. So, you were going to fight your way out of there with your bare hands against fifteen men, all who had weapons.”

“Um.”

“You did the only thing you could do. You were compliant and waited for someone to come in and get you. You saved your own life by not trying to escape, which would’ve only pissed them off. Best case scenario they would’ve beat the shit out of you, and you would’ve wished they had killed you. Or option two, more than likely they would’ve put a bullet in your head and not thought twice about it. Do you understand?” I hated having to impart that truth to her, but she had to understand. She was in a no-win situation if she had tried to fight those men. “Animals do not value human life. It’s a sad truth. Trust me, you did the right thing. The safest thing you could’ve done.”

“Yes,” Olivia murmured against my chest. “I understand.”

“You need to put that shit outta your head right now before it eats away at you. Take a minute and sort your head out, realize there was nothing more you could’ve done and lock it down. You are not a victim. What I meant and should’ve said was, I shouldn’t have shut you in a small space with me after what you’d just gone through. I should’ve told you what was going to happen. I’m sorry.” I was still kicking my own ass for making that rookie mistake. Then I called her a victim. Damn, I was an idiot. I couldn’t believe I had planted those thoughts in her head.

“Is that what you do?” she asked.

I didn’t make it a habit of discussing my personal life with anyone yet for some unknown reason I decided to make an exception. “Yes.”

“Does it work?”

What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

“Yes. There is no use in dwelling on the shit I cannot change. It is what it is.” I answered.

“I’ll try.” Her voice was soft and unsure. And suddenly I wanted to make it my life’s mission to make sure she didn’t try, but she succeeded in putting this behind her. Which was crazy considering I had known her all of a minute.

“Good. We’re done. I’m sure your ma is waiting to see you. If she’s anything like mine, she’s out there driving everyone batshit crazy trying to get to you.”

“Yeah, sorry. Thank you for all your help and for saving me. Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

I really did have this girl pegged wrong. “You know, most women in this situation would’ve been freaking the fuck out by now. Screaming and crying. Yet another reason I know you’re tough.”

“I think I’m still in shock. Normally I’d be throwing a hissy fit because my dress was ruined and I lost my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos. And that is embarrassing to admit. I’m a screw-up. That’s the worst part about all of this. It’s all my fault. I drink too much and put myself in bad situations.”

“Olivia,” I warned.

“No sense in denying it I-”

I pushed her off my chest and grabbed her by both her shoulders giving her no option but to hear what I was about to tell her.

“Woman.” I quickly cut her off. “No part of this is your fault. You telling me that fifteen men holding you against your will for ransom is your fault? I don’t give the first two fucks if you drink too much, fuck too much, and you cry when you lose your Jimmy whatevers. No one has the right to touch you in a way you don’t want to be touched. And they certainly do not have the right to drug you and take you.” By the time I was done talking she looked like one of those cartoon characters with her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets. “Put it away, Olivia. Lock it down, get dressed, and go see your ma.”

“I’m trying,” she cried.

I had no idea how to handle a woman in distress. I worked with men. We fought together, we killed together, and we drank together. Never in my time in the teams or after did I shower with one of them while they cried in my arms. My ma and sister had never cried in front of me, most of the time they were bustin’ my balls and pissing me off. I had no idea what to do with this.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. You need your ma, she can help. Forget everything I said,” I whispered and brushed her wet hair off her face. She looked so small and lost. Part of that was my fault.