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“The police?” the voice I recognise says, but his tone is forced—performed, even. “Fucking bitch!”
“Get your shit,” the other barks.
The two men rush around the room while someone, somewhere, is kicking doors open. That’s the noise. Someone is coming for them or me…The police?
Paralysed, despite the absence of their bodies, I stay on the floor as though they are holding me down, still crushing my bones with the heavy host of their eyes and weight.
A calamity of feet shuffle past my ears, rushed heavy shoes, and I’m still on the floor.
Get up! Get up!
I scream for my useless body to stand, to gain footing, straighten, to getdetails.
“Fuck!” That’s Xander’s voice.
The door is open.
A gunshot ricochets down the hall.
“Fuck. Follow them!”
Quick, heavy raps bellow past the open door, the sound like a crescendo that rushes into the distance. Only it doesn’t. The sound stops, and then heads towards me, a current of steps below a weighty body.
“Baby.”
He kneels on either side of my body, grips his shirt at the nape of his neck, and tugs it over his head. Pulling it down my naked torso, the seam long, hanging below my thighs, he covers me quickly.
He pulls me to his chest. “Did they touch you?” he spits out. “Did they fucking touch you?”
Rage rattles through him, the tension rolling up his muscles like a physical entity taking control. Within his deadly, desperate grip, I lose air and ache.
My arms are numb, but I hook them around his neck, inhaling rubber, man, mint—Xander. “They didn’t have time.”
He growls. “If they put their cocks inside my girl, I’m going to hurt them. I’m going to fucking beat the life from them, make a bloody puddle with their bodies.”
“Kaya!” Chloe’s voice finds me.
“Fuck!” Kenno’s follows.
Xander’s grip tightens protectively. The large, hot mass of muscles enveloping me, making it damn obvious no one is to come near us. To touch me. To talk.
“Stay back, guys,” I pant, the air roasting, radiating from the boiling rage within Xander.
“Back the fuck off!” he barks, grasping at me harder, his back steeling, his arms growing with the onset of his attack. Ready to lash out. “Get out!”
So, I let him know I’m here. Awake. Aware. I soothe him. “I’m okay. They didn’t touch me.”
“Get the fuck out!”
The intensity licking out from inside him is too much and just right. It’s forged in the flames of our promises to be together, to be honest, to be real, raw.
I lied to him.
I find the strength to survey the room from over his shoulder, seeing Chloe and Kenno walking hesitantly through the door. I meet Chloe’s eyes over Xander’s taut shoulder. Her lips twist in anguish, evidence that she finds leaving the scene—leaving me—tortuous.
I want to say, “Sorry I put you through this.” My eyes well up to relay the message. I did this. To them all.God.I whimper at all the pain I’ve caused.
And for my dad.
