Blue Horizons (A Horizons Novel Book 1) (31 page)

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The beeping doesn’t stop as awareness sinks in.

Every movie and every story has it right—the beeping always registers first.

Light slowly filters in through the thinness of my eyelids, creating a muted darkness versus an empty blackness.

I wiggle my toes and pain shoots up my leg.

Pain. Dull, but present everywhere, mostly in my heart.

I know where I am.

One by one, words and images are conjured up to the forefront of my mind, reminding me of the things he did and said. My already broken heart dissolves into liquid and its tears escape from my eyes. How could he do this to me? What happens now? Keeping my eyes closed, I lie here praying for a fast death just to avoid my impending reality.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

“Mr. Layne, we’re sorry to bother you during this sensitive time, but since we can’t ask Avery, we need to know if you have any suspicions of who you think might have done this to her?” a deep masculine voice asks my father.

“I’m sorry, officer, her mother and I have no idea.”

What?
He sounds distressed and convincing.

“In Kensington County, we take rape very seriously. The sooner we can catch and prosecute who did this, the better. Please give us a call when she wakes up.”

Rape.

My ears start ringing and chills crawl across my skin.

“We will,” my father assures them. “Thank you for stopping by.” There’s a shuffling of movement and the sound of footsteps as they leave the room.

I tighten the muscles between my legs and feel the leftover soreness. This isn’t a new soreness—tender intimacy flew out the window between us quite some time ago. Chris takes. He’s been taking from me for a while now, but hearing someone define it in such a harsh way has my chest closing in on me. I feel ashamed and completely degraded.

No. I can’t think of it as such, and will not acknowledge it as that. I don’t even care what that says about me or the false sense of reality I’ve allowed myself to believe. The joining of two people is supposed to be beautiful, and they’re just trying to make it ugly. I don’t want it to be ugly. And if I admit to it, then I’m admitting to the monster that he’s become. For so long, I’d been hanging on to hope. Hope for us.

Us
.

There will never be an “us.” Never again.

An extreme sense of helplessness consumes me. I feel more vulnerable and out of control than I ever have in my whole life. Any last vestiges of strength drain from my body and I’ve officially lost all trust in everyone and everything. An unwanted sob escapes me and the machine starts to beep faster.

“Avery.” It’s my mother’s voice. It’s weak and pathetic. A creak from the door being pushed open bounces around the room. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re awake.” Instead of maternal concern, I hear pity. I don’t want her pity. I just want to be loved.

Moving to wipe the tears off my face, my fingers hit a bandage where I expect my face to be. Wincing from the slightest touch, I can tell there’s a lot of swelling.

“What is this?” My voice is almost nonexistent, shredded to a raw whisper by his chokehold. Swallowing, more pain slides down my throat. I attempt to open my eyes, but only one cracks open. I decide it’s best if I don’t see what’s around me anyway and let my eyelid fall shut.

“Your cheekbone was shattered, and they had to put a plate in. But don’t worry, they went in through the gums above your back teeth, so there’ll be no scarring.”

A gasp escapes me and my lip pulls. My lips feel huge. Running my tongue across the inside of it, there are the rough and foreign bumps of stitches. Moving my tongue to my back teeth, I feel the stitches there too.

Only my mother would be worried about physical scarring. Why doesn’t she see the emotional scars are the ones destroying me?

More tears leak from my eyes.

“What else?” I ask, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“There’s a lot of bruising and a hair line fracture in your ankle,” she says softly.

Bruising. I’m certain there’s more than that. Between the driveway, teeth, and fingers, I’m certain that I’m covered in bruises, road rash, scrapes, and who knows what all.

Tears.

Lots of them.

Other than the beeping, silence fills the room.

My fingers twist in the sheets as an overwhelming sense of worthlessness presses down on my chest. How is this my life? How could Chris think so little of me after all this time? Does he know what he did to me? Does he even care? I never want to see him again, and the worst part is, I warned them.

Attempting to turn my head toward her, it won’t move; it’s been braced. I feel trapped and my heart gallops in my chest.

“I told you and you didn’t do anything.” My voice is hoarse but accusatory. My throat aches even more from the strain of the emotions running through me.

“And
you
aren’t going to do anything either,” my father chimes in with his domineering, don’t-question-me-on-this, lawyer voice.

“What?” They can’t possibly think that I’m going to return to him as if nothing happened.

“The families have settled this,” he says.

Of course they have. It’s all about protecting the family names, protecting him . . . why aren’t they protecting
me
?

Lies. Betrayal. Abandonment.

It suddenly dawns on me that my perception of hospitals is all wrong. Hospitals are cold, sterile, and filled with sickness and death. Hospitals are supposed to be healing, but instead I’m lying here and feeling infected by the deceit and manipulation around me. Hospitals are cruel and unforgiving. Hospitals are where hope goes to die.

“Get out.” The machine starts beeping even faster and my breathing mirrors the sound.

“What?” My mother is confused.

“You heard me. Get out!” Piercing pain shoots across my forehead and a moan slips out. My hand moves to cover my face; I don’t want them to look at me. I don’t want anyone to see me.

Oh, God, can’t you just make it all go away?

“Come on, let’s let her sleep,” my father says.

The legs of a chair scrape across the floor as my mother stands up. Through my heavy breathing and with my face hidden, I listen and track their movement across my room. There’s a soft click as the door closes. I’m left alone, and in more ways than one. Along with my misperception of hospitals, I’ve come to see who my parents really are. They’re selfish and vain, and I want nothing to do with any part of them. I’m done being their pawn. I’m done with them all.

Alone.

Strangely, I find comfort in this, and I get a glimpse of what my life is going to be like after all this is over. I’ve planned my future and it’s finally time to move on from what this will become—my past. No guilt, no questions, no more.

Two months. That’s what I have left of this life.

Two months left to endure, two months for the physical wounds to heal.

Two months till New York and if I have my way . . . I’m never looking back.

White horror blankets Ash’s face, before it turns red with fury. Sliding out from under me, he gets out of bed and starts pacing the room. He runs his hand through his hair repeatedly and squeezes his eyes shut. Stopping to stand at the foot of the bed, he puts his hands on his hips, and stares at me.

“He almost killed you?” His voice is deep with distress.

I sit up and watch him. “Yes,” I whisper and he doesn’t move.

“Who found you?” he asks.

“Our parents. I tried to get away from him. I had pulled my phone out and somehow dialed my father before he hit me from behind and I dropped it. He heard what was happening, located me through a GPS tracker, and my parents raced home. His and mine, they all found us.”

Mumbling expletives to himself, he starts pacing the room again.

“You should have pressed charges.” He glances at me, breathing heavily.

“Maybe, but I didn’t. I never wanted to make his life worse. I just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. If anything, I’ve always felt a bit guilty.”

“What? Why?” He stops walking and pins me with a shocked look.

“Because when the going got tough, I walked away. If you love someone, you stand by them, you fight for them.”

“No, not when they are using their fists to fight you,” he argues, running his hand over his face and then through his hair.

He’s upset with me. Tears fill my eyes and drop, leaving wet trails down my cheeks.

Ash will never understand. There’s really no point in trying to sway him otherwise. In the end, Chris’s dad used their influence, money, and relationship with my parents to get everyone to keep this quiet. Chris was hauled off to a back room and paramedics were told an intruder attacked me. That money allowed me to cut ties with my family, move to New York, and it paid for Julliard. It’s ironic really—because of him I was trapped and because of him I was set free.

“I don’t want to fight with you. It was a long time ago, and now you know.” I pull the blankets tighter around me.

He looks back at me, sees the tears, and instantly his demeanor changes.

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a sigh and moves back to the bed. Climbing in next to me, he pulls me onto his lap and crushes me to his chest.

Silence wraps around us as my ear is pressed to his heart. It’s racing, and it’s racing for me.

“Emma asked me once why I couldn’t just get over it—after all, it was only one night. But what she and everyone else don’t realize is that it wasn’t. Yes, that final night was traumatic and ultimately the end point, but the emotional pain of his behavior started months before. All wounds heal, and all wounds leave scars. Inside or out, they’re still there.”

“So what happens now? How do we make this better for you?” His voice vibrates against my face, and my ears stick on the “we.” My heart smiles.

“‘Never let yesterday use up too much of today.’” I’ve always loved this.

“What?” He’s confused.

“It’s a quote. What happened to me yesterday could be the same thing that happens tomorrow, hypothetically speaking, but I can’t let it consume everything I do from day to day. I just can’t live that way. I’m always going to have anxiety. Being touched in certain places causes flashbacks and fear. I think of myself being similar to say someone who has a fear of spiders or snakes. Put them in a room with either one of those and what do you think is going to happen?”

“Snakes and the fear of being touched are two completely different things. One is avoidable and one is not.” He loosens his bear hug hold on me, and relaxes a little more.

“I know it’s irrational, and I’ve tried to make it better . . . I have. But it’s like my mind and my body disconnect from each other and everything goes black. I don’t want to feel this way. Believe it or not, I used to be a very huggy person. I would hug friends, family, just about anyone.” I pull back and look at his face.

“Well, if you must know, back in the hallway, when you wrapped your arms around me, I was elated. Feel free to hug me as much as you want.” He gives me a lopsided smile, complete with one dimple.

“Thank you, Ash, again, for what you did for me last night, and well, for all the nights. For what it’s worth, I am so much better than I used to be, and look at me now. I’m sitting on your lap, with your arms around me.” I grin at him.

“I want to kiss you.” His eyes drop to my lips.

“Then kiss me,” I state brazenly.

Wasting no time, he wraps his hands around my head, licks his lips, and pulls my face to his.

Immediately on contact, both of us let out a sigh, a release of sorts from the tension over the last half hour. His fingers tangle in my hair, his thumbs caress my cheeks, and I lean into him.

This kiss isn’t hungry, but filled with a passion that makes me feel treasured, adored. The way his lips move, and the way his tongue dances with mine, it leaves me breathless and still wanting more.

“I love the way you taste,” he says against my lips, moving his to the corner of my mouth and then my cheek.

“But I haven’t brushed my teeth.” I inwardly cringe.

“Can’t tell,” he says, laying his face next to mine. His eyelashes brush back and forth across my temples as he blinks and wraps his arms around me to hold me.

“Stay with me this weekend,” he says in my ear, giving me goosebumps.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls back and smiles at me. The anger and frustration are gone from his eyes, and they’ve lightened. It’s such a beautiful color.

“Hungry yet?” His eyebrows rise while his hands slide down my back to my hips.

“Yes, I think I am.” I give him a knowing, almost sultry look.

His eyes widen and his hands tighten on my hips, pulling me forward slightly.

Leaning to me, his mouth hovering just an inch from mine, his eyes scan over my face and my heart starts pounding. A slow smile stretches across his handsome face, he pops me on the lips with a quick kiss, and then he tosses me off and over to the other side of the bed.

“Soon, Sunshine. But first, food.” He chuckles as he makes his way across the room and out the door.