Page 86 of Born to Scar

He follows me to my car and gets in the passenger seat. My phone pings with a message from Asher.

ASHER: They’re sending officers to the location you sent.

I don’t reply.

It’s a long drive from here. Fuck, I hope I’m not too late. I fly down the interstate, weaving in and out of traffic, then the thousand back roads the navigation takes us through. At first, it looks like Ricky may have tossed her phone, but then we come across a rundown house with his car parked outside.

I jump out the door, but Cam grabs me. “We need to be careful right now.”

“He’s not being careful anymore, Cam. I’m not going to be either. If I go to jail because I’m getting someone I love away from him, then so fucking be it.”

“I’m not worried about you going to jail,” he hisses. “I’m worried about you getting shot.”

I pull out of his grip and head to the door. This house is a death trap, with holes in the flooring everywhere. I follow the light. There is only one source of it in this shit hole.

I quietly creep down the stairs. It’s nothing like the rest of this house down here. It’s clean and bright. The smell of bleach burns my nose. I don’t hear or see anything until I round the corner and dry heave. The taste of bile fills my mouth. I have to get Indy out of here. She’s covered in blood, tied to a chair. Her clothes are cut from her body and scattered on the floor.

He fucking cut her. But worse, she’s not moving. She’s breathing, but she’s not here. Her eyes are glazed over and far away, staring straight forward at the floor in front of her. Unblinking.

At first, I don’t see Ricky in here with her. But then I slowly move toward her, passing another corner. He’s standing in an alcove, in nothing but his boxers, with a whip in hand. That’s when I notice the chains on the wall. Fuck me. She’s reliving her worst nightmare right here, and we let it fucking happen.

Before Ricky can even react, Cam flies past me and levels him, knocking him out cold. Indy still doesn’t budge.

Sirens are getting louder, and there’s a helicopter circling outside. The tears push past my eyes as I kneel in front of her and cup her face. She looks at me, but she doesn’t see me.

“Indy,” I whisper, “come back to me.” I softly kiss her lips and forehead. “Please, sweet girl, come back. I need you. We need you.”

There are voices around us, but I’m focused on her. “Indy? Can you hear me?”

The EMT asks me to move, earning a glare. “I need to get her vitals and to see if I can get her to respond,” he urges.

I back off, but she doesn’t respond to him either. They place her on the stretcher, taking her from this hellhole.

“He’ll be held on abduction charges, and there’ll be a sexual assault kit awaiting her at the hospital. He obviously cut her, another charge,” the officer tells Cam as I approach.

“She’s covered in scars from the bastard already,” I spit the words like venom at the cop.

“We are going to do everything we can to make this right. I personally have been waiting for him to make this mistake. You have no reason whatsoever to trust me. But I always knew what he was; I was just never able to get out from under Dolton.”

I grunt. I have zero faith that anyone can make this right. Her father’s also been put on a stretcher, still passed out. He’s cuffed to the bed and carried out.

“What hospital?”

“Regional Medical.”

I nod, spinning, taking in this space. Her blood is all over the floor. Her blood. His discarded clothes. Her ruined clothes. I slowly move around, looking. He clearly used this place often. I wonder what else he’s been doing that requires him to stay here. As we walk out to the car, I pull out my phone, giving the group chat the address to the hospital we’ll be at. The drive is silent. I don’t bother hiding my tears, and neither does Cam. This is so fucked—more fucked than I could ever imagine.

Luckily, she’s still in the ER when we arrive. We stare in the open door for a moment. She’s lying in the bed, asleep. Peaceful. A doctor comes in, pushing us in with him. “We have sent the kit to be processed. Typically, these take weeks to months to come back, but because of the nature of this and him being a public service provider, it should be back in a couple of days to a week.”

I bark a laugh. His words feel so unreal. Public service provider. No.

“Did she respond to you?” Cam asks.

“No, but we have some things we can try. We’ll be sending a psychiatrist in a little later. He may be—” I cut him off.

“Send a woman.”

“Mr. Sikes, we don’t have a choice of who is on shift.”