Beautifully Broken

I’ll have to take her to a doctor to get the clips removed.

Once I’m done cleaning the wound, I lock eyes with her. “Can you sit up so I can put the fresh bandage on? I’ll get some of those stick-on ones tomorrow.”

Cara begins to struggle, and I quickly slip an arm around her back. I help her into a sitting position and let her lean against my chest.

She looks away to some spot on the other side of the room. “Please don’t be like this,” she whispers.

I frown, not sure what she means. “Like what?”

Her chin begins to quiver. “Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it. Be like you were when you first found me. Just be cold.”

I take hold of her chin, lifting her face to mine, but she glances away from me again.

“Look at me,” I demand. Her eyes snap to mine. “What the fuck are you thinking up in that head of yours?”

Her hands clutch the harsh material of the gown, and she swallows hard. “It’s all my fault,” she whispers hollowly.

I frown at her words. “What’s your fault?”

“Everything,” she whispers, her eyes lowering to my neck. “They found me because I was careless. They beat me… they raped me because I let my guard down.” A tear slips over her cheek, and for a moment, I stare at it, thinking how wrong she’s is. “I lost my baby because I left you.”

“No, Cara,” I say. “You might’ve let your guard down, but it was never your fault that they beat and raped you.” I hate the words as they leave my mouth. They’re such ugly words to link to her. “It definitely wasn’t your fault that you lost your baby.”

Cara shakes her head while her eyes stay blankly on my neck.

Fuck, she’s losing it.

I wish she would scream and cry. I wish she would show any kind of emotion and just let it all out.

“I… I brought it on myself. I didn’t fight hard enough. I didn’t… I ran away, and they found me again… I killed my baby,” she gasps, every breath coming faster than the previous one.

I frame her face with both my hands, forcing her to keep still. She grabs hold of my right wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “Damian,” she gasps.

Watching the pain tear through her is unbearable. I wrap my arms around her, securing her to my chest. “You didn’t kill your baby.” My voice cracks under the weight of the sadness I feel for her. Pulling back, I press my forehead to hers. Her breaths are heavy with guilt and pain.

“I’m here, baby. You’ll get through this, and you’ll be so much stronger. I’m here every step of the way.”

Cara grabs my shoulder, and I move closer, enveloping her in my arms again.

“I can’t, Damian,” she chokes on the ache that’s eating her alive. “I can’t take any more. I’m done. If this is what life is like, then I’d rather die.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head and just hold her tight. She’s been through so much hell. All I can do right now is to help keep her standing. She just needs time.

It takes a while before she manages to calm down, then she pulls back. “I don’t understand,” she whispers. “Why do they keep coming after me?”

The muscle in my jaw starts ticking. She can’t deal with more shit.

Her eyes search mine, and a slight frown forms between her eyes. “Tell me,” she urges more insistent this time.

I wipe a hand over my face and shake my head. This is going to kill her.

“Damian,” she whispers, her voice filled with fear of the unknown. Her mind must be conjuring up all kinds of shit.

I can’t look at her as the words come. “They know you were with me.” I shake my head again, knowing they found her because they traced her through the name I gave her. “They must have people in law enforcement, and when the search for Weston popped up, they went to check if it was you. I was stupid. I slipped up, and you paid for it.” The words settle heavy in my gut. Cara got hurt because I led them straight to her.

“Who are they?” She starts to fidget with the hospital gown, and for some reason, the fabric pisses me off. I pull it away from her and, digging through my bag for one of her shirts and sweatpants, I yank the clothes out.

I don’t think as I remove the hospital from her body. Pulling the t-shirt over her head, I push one arm at a time through the sleeves. I tug the fabric over her chest, and for a second, I get a glimpse of her breasts.

The first time I saw her, she was naked and beaten. I saw her as a victim who needed saving. I had to get her out of a shitty situation.