Saving Della Ray

A very long silence followed, as I waited for the response that would determine our future with each other.

“Were you ever going to come back?” she asked with the blanket tightly around her and her gaze on the floor.

“I was never going to leave you. It was going to take a few weeks, but I was always going to return, to ask you to come back with me.”

“But in those weeks you were going to leave me thinking you were dead?” She turned to me.

Dammit, I couldn’t take the tears in her eyes. I placed my hand softly on her face and delicately wiped her tears away. “I was, but only for a little while. Only until the news around my death became stale, because you would have been watched closely by the club for any foul play. And if they suspected that something was wrong, you would have been the one to be harassed in order to get me to reveal myself. I regret involving you in any of this. It was never my intention but—”

“I tied your hands, didn’t I?” She rose to her feet and just then, the sounds of sirens in the distance announced the approach of the cops. She turned to glance at me. “I don’t regret it,” she said. “Do you?”

For the first time since we had gotten to the house, I breathed easy. “Never,” I replied. “Never. How can I, when I found you? I love you, Della Ray. I love you the way I’ve never loved another human being.”

She turned to me then. “I love you too,” she said. “With all my heart, Gage Miller.”

Her warmth and touch melted me in a way that I couldn’t believe was possible. I couldn’t hold back. With my hands on her face, I took her mouth with mine, and kissed her from the depths of my heart. At the delicious heat that consumed me, I felt the tears roll down from my eyes at this woman who had somehow become mine. “I will heal for you,” I promised her. “Thank you for giving me another chance to come back to life.” I let her go.

Then I sprinted out through the back door.

Della Ray

-lean on me-

“Shouldn’t you wait until your face heals a little before you go to see Denise?” Nichole asked.

“I want her to see me like this. The only good that can come out of getting battered is that she will pity me and let me keep Jess.”

Nichole rubbed her palms together. “I never realized you were that Machiavellian.”

I grinned at her through swollen lips. “I never needed to be before.”

“Okay. Good luck and take care of yourself,” she whispered.

“Thank you for taking care of Jess for me while I do this.”

“I’m Jess’s godmother. I’ll always be here for you and her.”

The next morning, I took the long flight to Ohio. During the trip, I gazed out of the window and thought of Gage and what we did to those men. I always thought of myself as a good person, someone who would never hurt another human being, but yesterday I found out that was a lie. I was more than capable of hurting another human being. I even took joy in seeing that bald monster blown to bits. Now I knew I was only good because I had never had to be bad.

Denise lived with her boyfriend in a tiny house in a horrible part of town. She was drinking Gin and coke and the TV was blaring in the living room when I arrived. The place was a mess. It stank of cigarettes and sweat. I felt sad to see her like this. I remembered her the way she had been when we were children. I never thought then she would end up like this. She was so brave and strong.

“What happened to your face?” she asked, moving into her living room.

“Long story,” I said.

“Sit down,” she invited carelessly, as she resumed her seat in front of the TV.

I moved some pizza takeaway boxes and sat down next to her. “Can I turn the TV down a bit?”

She took a drag from her cigarette. “You think you’re better than me?”

I shook my head. “No, of course not.”

“I was raped when I was twelve. I was raped,” she said fiercely.

“I know,” I whispered sadly.

She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “That’s my favorite program,” she said bitterly.

“I can wait. Watch it first. We’ll talk afterwards.”

“No. Say what you have to say and go.”

“Do you ever think of Mom and Dad?”

She took a swallow of her drink. “What’s the point? They’re dead.”

I had a clear image of the police officers that come to take us from our home that day when they were killed in a freak car accident. I saw again the expression on my sister’s face before she began screaming at them to get out of the house.