In Pieces (A Finding Peace Novel) Page 4

  “From Brampton, I assume?” I respond as I drape an arm around him so he can help me get up the stairs. Before I get situated, he picks me up and cradles me like a baby and carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing. “Yes, Brampton. She came out with a lot of scars, Jo. Heavier scars than it appears you have. It’ll be good having you here, another woman may help her lower her guard a little.”

  We get to the top of the stairs and into the bathroom and he sets me down to undress. “Go ahead and take your bath, then call me when you’re out; I’ll come bandage your hands and wrap your ankle. Then we’ll find food. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I say as he closes the door behind him. I stare at the tub like it’s a mirage in the middle of the desert. It’s been thirteen years since I’ve had a bath. We were only allowed to shower at Brampton, and those lasted about five minutes before they shut the hot water off. We barely had enough time to wash the dirt from the day off. And by dirt, I don’t mean the kind from the ground. Our captors made sure we weren’t clean, in any way. I try and shake that off, as I need to be strong for Emma, who has had it worse that I have.

  I strip off my jeans, the denim peeling from my skin, reopening the cuts from crawling on the glass in the drug store. A few start to bleed, but I ignore it. As I finally get naked, I look at myself in the mirror. There are bruises on my chest and abdomen, and those cuts on my knees. My long black hair has lost its shine, and the bags under my eyes are prominent. I look tired and malnourished, which I guess I am. This bath should make me feel better, as I see fragrant soaps and shampoo on the side of the tub.

  I sink into the steaming water, the cuts on my hands and knees stinging. I wave it off, the pain much weaker than what I’ve experienced. Over the years, I’ve grown to tolerate pain, even thrive on it. Pain makes me remember that I’m alive, that I’m a survivor. No amount of pain my captors could inflict on me could take away my pride. Maybe that’s why they let me go—I was too strong for them. And maybe Emma was the opposite, too weak.

  I lie back in the water and close my eyes, relishing in the warmth. After a few minutes, I wash my hair and condition it, wash my face, and shave … Yes, there is a razor here—the comforts of home right at my fingertips.

  Home.

  I close my eyes and flash back to the last time I took a bath, in a footed tub very much like this one, back at the farm in Arrow's Crossing. It’s amazing how much this home looks like mine did, and it makes me long for home. Is it still there? Could my mama still be living in it with Hank taking over the day-to-day operations? I shake my head. No. There’s no way. Hank is probably off fighting somewhere and Mama … Mama would have never made it in this world with Daddy gone. She probably died a peaceful death once her family was ripped from her. She was a strong woman, but no woman could have endured this war alone. I suspect Mama is with Daddy in heaven, and maybe Hank too, but I won’t stop until I find out for sure.

  I suddenly feel a presence overlooking me, and I open my eyes to see Kane, frozen in his boots staring at me. “Something wrong?” I ask, sitting up and brushing my wet hair from my face.

  “Nothing at all.” He smirks.

  “What are you doing in here? Do people not knock?”

  “I’m sorry, I just assumed you were out of the bath, but I see you’re clearly not.”

  “Clearly,” I say, standing up to grab a towel, quickly forgetting about my weak ankle. Kane grabs me and lifts my wet body out of the tub and hands me a towel, but not before I see his eyes scan my body, his hand accidentally grazing the side of my breast as he wraps the towel around me. I’m not sure what the fuss is all about, as I’m sure he’s seen a woman’s body before. Hell, the women at Brampton were required to be naked for the walk-throughs where the men come through and pick the mother of their unborn children. The whole process comes rushing back to me, and I shiver at that thought. As his arms wrap around me, I stiffen and step back. “Don’t,” I whisper.

  “Don’t what? Let you fall?”

  “Don’t touch me, let me get dressed first,” I snap, knowing inside that he was just trying to help, but he’s in my space, and I’m starting to feel trapped. He must sense that in my stance. He moves back, his hands up in a mock surrender.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll let you get dressed,” he says as he moves to leave the bathroom.

  “Emma hasn’t brought me anything to wear, so I’ll have to put on my dirty clothes.”

  He blinks and then lifts his t-shirt over his head, exposing his broad shoulders and firm body. I look away and he presses the soft cotton shirt into my hands. “Put this on, I’ll go find Emma.” He leaves the bathroom, the door clicking loudly behind him.

  I slip the t-shirt on and towel dry my hair before searching for a brush in the cabinet. I don’t find one, but I do find a comb. “This will have to work for now,” I say as I fight the tangles in my hair. A soft knocking on the door jolts me out of my thoughts.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Emma, I have something for you to put on,” she says as I open the door. “And a hairbrush, if you need one.”

  “Yes, you read my mind,” I say, taking the brush from her and running it through my hair. I drop it when a flash of pain shoots through my right hand, the wounds reopening and blood dripping onto the floor.

  “Here, let me,” Emma says as she takes the brush from me and stands behind me in front of the mirror. She runs the bristles through my hair, and a low moan escapes my throat. It feels good, and comforting; another reminder of home when Mama used to brush my hair. She works the tangles out and then quickly French braids it so it’s out of my face, securing it with a hair tie I didn’t even notice on her wrist.

  “You’ve thought of everything,” I say, smiling at her through the reflection in the mirror.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around another woman, and this is the first time since I was freed from the clinic. Vic …”

  “What?” I turn around and face her. “What did Vic do?” I’m angry already at what the head of Brampton could have done to her that’s made her this way.

  “Vic was my last at Brampton, he … he …”

  “I know he raped you. All of us were raped, Emma. All of us, and knocked up more than once.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure what they were thinking, treating young girls like trash and forcing us to do what they did, but it’s over, Emma.”

  “It’s not over in my mind, Jo. I can’t shake it; how did you do it?”

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure I have yet. I’ve not really had the time to reflect on what happened inside that clinic, as I had to quickly defend and protect myself. Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet.”

  “No, no, you’re so much stronger than I am. I’m surprised they let you go.”

  “They got rid of anyone that could have been a liability, Emma. They wanted weak and fragile, not strong and furious. Like you and I. I know you, Emma. You were tough as nails inside that clinic, you stood up for girls more than once,” I say.

  “I faked it, Jo.”

  “What do you mean, you faked it?”

  “Vic caught me breaking down in the exam room. I was hysterical, and when a few smacks across the face didn’t stop me, he yanked me up by my hair and threw me against the door, my pregnant belly making impact first. He then shoved me harder and harder, face and stomach first into that damned metal door. His foot pressing against my lower back and he kicked me, hard, over and over until I started cramping and bleeding. The baby stopped moving and then …”

  “Oh, Emma,” is all I can say before she continues.

  “I finally collapsed on the cold floor, blood gushing from between my legs and the pain … Oh, God, the pain,” she cries. “I’ll never forget that pain!”

  “Emma, it’s over, hun. I …”

  “The doc came in and took the lifeless body out of me and stitched me up, threw a nightgown at me, and Vic walked me to the back exit, opening the door, and shoving me out. ‘You’re a worthless bitch. Can’
t even carry my baby to term. Get out. After I all did to help you, you whore. I thought you were stronger than this.’ And he slammed the door behind me. At the time, I felt relieved, but also scared to death. I’d been in that clinic for years, and I had no idea what I was facing in the streets. I beat on the door, begging to be let back in. But there was no one there. He left me out there.”

  By this time, Emma is in hysterics, and the tears are steadily streaming down her face. I pull her into my arms and comfort her best I can. I give her the time she needs and then step back, cradling her face in my hands. “Emma, you didn’t do anything wrong. None of us did. We were taken from our families and thrust into that environment. Hell, if I’d known that’s all that needed to be done to get out, I would have done it years ago,” I reassure her, but I know it’s going to take more than that to help her overcome her fears.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown that down on you,” Emma says, stepping back and grabbing a tissue to blot her eyes.

  “Emma, I was there, remember? But I’m finding we were all treated differently. Vic was a dick, too. I’m sorry he chose you to be his mate,” I say, a feeble attempt at calming her. “But you’re stronger than he was; you survived his wrath and you’re a better woman because of it. Life must continue, and we’ll both face our demons together, all right? Mine might not have hit me yet, it’s too soon. But I know, when it does, I’m going to need you.”

  She nods and smiles a weak smile, but she seems calmer now. Like she’s been waiting a long time to tell someone her story.

  “Does Kane know what happened to you?”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t tell him. He’d go up there and kill Vic, but would probably end up being killed himself. I couldn’t handle him being hurt or worse, because of me. He’s a good guy, Jo. He lets me cry when I need to, and doesn’t ask questions. He found me in an alley hemorrhaging two days after Vic threw me out. He saved my life, but asked no questions. I owe everything to him.”

  “So he really is a medic?”

  “He was a combat medic in the Army,” she says.

  “Actually, I was at the age to enlist when the war started, so I never became an actual medic,” Kane says as he opens the bathroom door, but he doesn’t elaborate any further. “Are you ready for me to patch you up?” he asks, not elaborating any further, the lines in his forehead creasing like he’s angry that we were talking about him.

  “I guess,” I say as Emma steps back, her eyes cast down to the floor.

  “I’ll go fix dinner,” she says as she leaves the bathroom, pulling the door quietly closed. I look up, and Kane is staring at me, heat and what almost looks like anger filling his eyes.

  “What are you angry about?”

  He continues to stare deep into my eyes for a few seconds. “Anything you need to know about me, I’ll tell you. Emma is … unstable.”

  “Gee, sorry. We were just making conversation,” I say, pulling back a little, his eyes softening a bit.

  “It’s okay, I know this is new to you and information is important to your wellbeing, but what I want you to know about me, I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Now, let’s get you patched up and go find food,” he says as he reaches for the first-aid supplies and moves closer to me, though I flinch a little. “Easy, Jo. I’m not going to hurt you. That’s the first thing that you need to understand about me. I’m not the bad guy, so trust is going to be very important. I know this is new to you, but please, without trust, you’ll find yourself back on the street, and I refuse to let that happen.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath as he places the alcohol pad in my hands, the sting racing up my arm. He bandages me up and then wraps my ankle. “Stay here,” he says as he leaves the bathroom, quickly returning with a set of crutches.

  “I don’t need those,” I quickly say.

  “Yes, you do, we need that ankle healed because you need to be mobile. The Heretics could find us at any time and running will be necessary. While it’s quiet, we need to get you healed,” he says as he lifts me off the counter and nestles the crutches under my arms. “You’re a strong woman, Jo, and I plan to make you even stronger. Now, let’s go eat,” he says as he exits the bathroom, leaving me standing there watching him walk away.

  I tug on the cut-off, jean shorts that Emma brought and my old boots before following him down the stairs.

  Kane

  I know I was probably too hard on Jo, and I need to get this protective instinct under control, but she’s so beautiful and strong that I know at some point she’s going to break. And damned if I’m going to be the one to break her. She needs protecting, shelter. Though, she’s going to fight me on that, because she’s too damn independent. I can’t blame her; she’s only had herself to depend on for years, and it’s time she has someone else to depend on. This life she’s been dealt is too much for the strongest man, but she seems focused and determined to overcome it, even though I know inside it has to be killing her.

  I walk into the kitchen and see Emma over the stove, stirring something that smells delicious. She keeps us fed and strong, ready to take on the world. Her eyes are glazed over, and she seems lost, but she always does. However, that glaze is not as thick as it usually is. Having another woman here is and will be good for her. Hopefully we can toughen her up and thicken her skin a little so she can fight for herself too. Jo is the key to that, as long as she keeps her shit together.

  She senses me behind her and she turns, holding the spoon up in defense, and I laugh, which only makes her tense up more. “I don’t think you can do much harm with that spoon, Emma.” I giggle as I walk past her to get glasses out of the cabinet. “Now, if that was a knife, I’d have to step back.”

  She doesn’t laugh. “Soon, Emma. I’m going to start teaching you how to fight, how to defend yourself and not be scared.”

  “I … I don’t want to fight. I just want …”

  “What, Emma, what do you want?” I say, slowly moving closer to her.

  “I don’t know what I want, I only know I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she says as she looks at her feet.

  “In this world, Emma, being scared is a given. Do you think I’m not scared? Because I’m terrified. This world is a brutal place, full of blood and death. Do you think I like killing people? I don’t, but if you’re a bad guy and you cross me, I will kill you.”

  Her eyes flash, and she steps back, the hot stove hitting her back before she jumps forward.

  “Easy, Emma, did you burn yourself?”

  “No,” she says as she turns back to the stove, her body shaking a little.

  “Emma, it’s okay to be scared. I know what you went through …”

  “You have no fucking idea, Kane!” she screams, her cheeks enflamed and her eyes dark.

  “Whoa, Emma, it’s okay. I know I don’t, but that part of your life is over,” I say, trying to calm her down.

  “Over? You call this over? My life goes through my mind every night when I try to sleep, it’s consuming me. It’s far from over, Kane.”

  “Shh, okay,” I say trying to pull her into my arms to console her, but she pulls back, fear enveloping her body. “Calm down,” I say as I feel Jo enter the room behind us and she clears her throat.

  “I’m sorry, I’m obviously interrupting something. I’ll come back.”

  “No, Jo. Don’t leave,” Emma cries out as she runs to her, wrapping her arms around her tightly, almost knocking her over.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” she says a she sniffs the air. “What smells so good?” she asks, trying to change the subject and calm Emma who is unsteady. Emma takes a step back and wipes her eyes before running her fingers through her blonde hair, taking a deep breath to settle her shaking hands.

  “Beef stew,” Emma feigns a smile as Jo’s stomach growls loudly.

  “We need to feed you,” I say as I grab a large bowl and dish out a healthy helping of stew for Jo. I can imagine it’s bee
n months, if not years, since she’s has a good meal. Emma told me once that Brampton only fed you the necessities—unless you were pregnant, then you got the good stuff. They’d do anything to keep the babies healthy, but to Hell with the women that carried those babies.

  I set the piping hot bowl in front of her, and she stares at it, her eyes seemingly hypnotized by the steam billowing off the top. She slowly picks up her spoon and scoops up a nice, big bite, filling her mouth. Her lips wrap around the spoon and she lets out a sigh of content.

  “Oh, my, this is amazing,” she says after she swallows, and I can’t help but think the same thing, though for different reasons. We sit in silence while the other guys come in and dish up a bowl, some sitting at the table with us, others taking their meal to their rooms or outside to their posts.

  Two bowls later, Jo sits back in her chair and closes her eyes. The content on her face is visible, happy. It’s been a long time since she’s had a decent meal, but I also don’t want her overdoing it. The war has been going on a long time, but her battle is just beginning. I need her fit and toned, as she’s got quite a fight on her hands. She took down one of the Heretic’s main men, and they’ll be looking for her. And the fact that she’s a woman, they will test her. They will beat her and rape her, but they won’t kill her. She’ll be begging for them to put her out of her own misery, but they’ll keep it up. They’re ruthless and will make her life a living hell.

  But her life has already been a living hell, so I suppose nothing will surprise her. At least, I hope, but I honestly don’t think she has any idea what she’s done. I’m glad, though, but now my job just got harder as I try to fight for our country and protect her at the same time. As long as she’s able to fight, I won’t have to worry about her. As much, anyway. She’s good with a knife, or a makeshift knife. I want to see how she handles other weapons. “Come on,” I tell her as I stand and hold out my hand for her to take.

  “Where are we going?” she responds, a bit of fear in her eyes.