Briar
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I can’t help wondering if death would’ve been better when I’m finally able to open my one good eye. Getting plowed over by an Army convoy wouldn’t have been as painful from where I’m laying right now. My eye doesn’t seem to want to work right now, so keeping it closed is my best course of action.
“Hey,” the voice of an angel whispers. “Stay still.”
My throat is dry and on fire, and my attempt to swallow only hurts it more.
“Th-thirsty,” I grumble, feeling like a damn baby. Grown men don’t lie in bed like an invalid when they take an ass beating. I should be on my feet, holding my head high, but just the thought of sitting up right now makes me want to hurl.
An eternity passes before a straw is pushed between my lips. The first draw hits the back of my throat like raindrops on fire, sizzling and making me cough. The hacking shoots agony through my rib cage, and I’m sure TJ would be thrilled to know his one hit caused so much damage.
“Easy,” Molly says. “Small sips.”
“I feel like death,” I finally manage after a few sips.
“You need to see a doctor.”
Trying to shake my head only makes me hurt more, so I lay still and look over at her. Even through the sliver of sight, I’m able to manage, my girl is beautiful, but I hate the concern that’s drawing her brows together.
“I’ll be okay,” I assure her. “I’ve had worse.”
She huffs, twisting her body to put the glass of water back on the bedside table.
“Help me up.”
She fusses when I sit up in the bed, and it takes every ounce of manliness I can muster not to cry out in pain when she wraps her arm around me and presses against my injured side.
“Other side,” I hiss.
Swiftly, she switches sides and helps me stand.
“Where are you going? Are we getting out of here? I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s daylight.”
“Daylight? How long have I been out?”
“Like eighteen hours,” she mumbles, shifting her weight when I make it known we’re heading to the bathroom.
“I only took a couple of Aleve.”
“And two oxy.”
I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much, but surprisingly, getting up and moving around is making me feel better.
“Get the shower on for me.” She releases me as I lean against the wall over the toilet. “Where are my clothes?”
Only now am I aware that I’m stripped down to my boxer briefs.
“In the trash,” she answers as she leaves me to take care of business. “Are you sure you’re up for a shower?”
After flushing, I slowly turn back in her direction. “I can’t lay in bed all fucking day. The shower will help.”
“Let me find something for you to sit on.”
“I’ll stand.”
“Why are you being hateful?” I both love and hate the anger in her voice. I don’t want her mad at me, but I pray she never gives up her ability to fight for herself.
“Sorry,” I grumble as I step past her toward the shower, trying and failing to push my boxers down my legs. Bending in the middle hurts like a bitch.
“Let me help you.” Her hands replace mine, and she shoves the fabric down my legs. “You’re bruised all over.”
“Just part of it.” I step into the shower and am elated when she strips to her skin and joins me.
The nearness of her is comforting, and the sight of her naked flesh is almost enough to get my cock to stand up and notice. The pain searing through my body wins out, however.
“Part of it?” The indignant tone in her voice makes me love her even more. “This is just one of the reasons we need to get away from this damn place. Being bruised and bloody shouldn’t be a way of life.”
“I’m normally on the giving end of this kind of thing.”
She frowns, lifting her hand and brushing a tender finger over my brow. “I hate seeing you like this. I feel helpless.”
“I’ll be fine.” Tilting my head to the side, I allow her small hand to cradle my face. “Just like I told you in the basement, if this is what it took to keep you, every blow was worth it.”
“It shouldn’t—”
“It’s over,” I interrupt. “Things can go back to normal.”
“We don’t have to worry about normal.” Molly reaches for the body wash. “We’re leaving tonight.”
“Baby.” I catch her hand before she’s able to apply soap to my bruised chest. “This is home, and we aren’t going anywhere.”
“We can’t stay after what they did to you.”
“We’ll stay because of what they did to me,” I qualify, but she only frowns at me in return. “They won’t touch me again. What they did, what I suffered is what earned me the right to you.”