His Broken Submissive : Mercy

33 Safe

"Jezus Christ, how bad is she?!" Jonathan gasps from the stairs.

My attention snaps from Becca to him for a split second before her sniffle draws me back to her. I had just opened the door to a soft knock and found her on the front porch, soaked through and looking like a drowned kitten.

"I-I don't know," I stutter, shocked to see her like this. Her skin is deathly pale and eyes dull; she almost looks like a ghost.

"Becca sweetheart?" Jonathan calls, rushing over to her. "What happened?" When Jonathan reaches for her she flinches away, practically scurrying behind me. I raise a hand and shake my head, knowing he means well but something's seriously wrong.

"Becca?" I call, breathing a sigh of relief when her teary gaze meets mine. "What happened?"

She breaks down, wrapping her arms around my neck as sobs wrack her body. I shiver, feeling how cold she is as her damp clothes soak through mine. Jonathan drapes a blanket over her carefully, making sure not to touch her and steps away, going back to his phone.

"Yeah, she's here," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Don't rush, you have to calm down before you drive."

I hold her as she cries, swaying slightly to try and calm her as I rub her back. In her worked-up state, I can see she's in no shape to talk so focus on being strong for her, like she does for me.

"No, I don't think so. No, she's not talking. I'm not sure, she pulled away from me," I hear Jonathan mumble as he no doubt talks to Tony.

Did they fight? Or break up?

My mind spirals, trying to put together the pieces that could possibly explain how she ended up here, in the state she's in. All I know is that I've never seen her so upset and raw before.

Her sobbing starts to slow and she loosens her death grip on me, letting me pull back to get a better look at her. Aside from being half-frozen and soaking wet her leggings are ripped on her knees and covered in mud and a little blood.

Even with the blanket, she starts to shake like a leaf. I catch Jonathan's gaze and he nods leaving her in my hands.

Becca follows me upstairs like a zombie as I lead her to my room, cursing my stupidity that I have nothing in my shower. Once again Jonathan reads my mind and shows up with a handful of shampoos and bubble baths from our bathroom.

"Stay close," he whispers, giving Becca a sympathetic smile before slipping out.

She doesn't move from the spot I left her as I quickly turn on the faucet. In all the time I've known her she's never been like this, so quiet and numb.

Focus Izzy.

"Becca, I need to know what happened, so I can help you," I whisper, locking my gaze on hers. "Please.... did someone hurt you?"

She shakes her head and relief washes over me but so does uncertainty.

"Then where'd the blood come from?" I press on, wanting to be sure I'm not cleaning off crucial evidence.

Her lip starts to quiver once more and she whimpers, "I tripped."

There's no way tripping could leave her so upset. She shuts down once more, her teeth chattering against her chill.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and nice and warm hmm? We can talk after. Does that sound good?" She looks up at me and I can see how raw she is.

I help her peel off the dirty wet, matted clothes and make sure she slips into the bath okay before taking the clothes to the hall. Jonathan is there and takes them from me. His guarded look does nothing to soothe my nerves.