If I Had A Heart

Chapter 8

Everything was black.

Silent as the dead.

Almost tranquil, but not quite.

For just a few short seconds, Regine's entire universe was consumed with darkness. No shouting or violent promises to be heard, at least for now. She was floating in an abyss of nothingness until a faint echo of an alarmed voice sounded in her ear.

"Careful with her head! Be gentle," the voice urged, its high pitch revealing that it belonged to a very worried Jenna.

"Follow me," Regine heard her instruct.

With every instant that passed, she was growing more and more conscious of her surroundings, feeling a dull ache beginning to spread across the length of her neck while also noting the empty space leaving her lifeless feet dangling in the air, almost like she was floating. Suddenly it dawned on her as she realized she wasn't on the ground, yet still horizontal.

Someone was carrying her. Cradling her weak body against their own, strong arms wrapped under her knees and shoulders, supporting her weight completely.

Andrew.

She didn't want to open her eyes, the sickening vertigo making her head swim with every movement as the security guard paced to the dressing room. Regine couldn't believe she had blacked out, the humiliation threatening to redden her cheeks if she hadn't already been as pale as a ghost. The memory was hazy, but not unclear enough for her to forget just who had smashed Jerry's face with their fist. There was no way it had been Andrew or Jenna, especially with the image of David's expertly curled knuckles being the last thing she could recall before fainting, Jerry's grasp crushing her windpipe explaining the fresh bruise she felt growing on her throat.

Hadn't she just explained to David that she didn't need him to save her the night before? And what did she do immediately following that conversation? Run straight into his perfect arms for help, that's what. God, she was pathetic. She wondered how he was going to mock her this time.

Keeping her eyes closed, the earsplitting music grew quieter and more bearable as they moved. At least they would be off the main floor and away from the prying eyes of the patrons. She wanted to keep the embarrassment to a minimum, fighting back the urge to cringe at the thought of confronting Vinnie after this whole ordeal. Somehow, he would find a way to blame her for everything, like he usually did when a dancer failed to "control" their customer, as if they were responsible for the outbursts of scorned men.

"You can put her down right here, let me grab some water from the bar," Jenna said and Regine could hear her frantic footsteps grow faint as she dashed out of the dressing room.

The space sounded desolate and still, free of any other dancers who might want to laugh at her expense or kick her while she was down, and Regine was grateful for this minuscule amount of serenity.

Andrew slowly bent his knees and rested her body on the cold ground, her arms and legs numb with the fatigue and stress of pure adrenaline coursing through her body just minutes before.

"Ah, come on gorgeous. Don't go dyin' on me just yet."

It took everything inside of Regine not to tense every muscle in her body at that very moment. This was not Andrew. No way in hell was this her sweet yet intimidating Andrew, who was always there to protect her no matter what.

She didn't want to see David right now. She also didn't want him to see her for that matter, all scared and pitiful laying half naked on the filthy floor of a strip club dressing room. The sound of worn leather shifting directly next to her face alerted her to his closeness as he moved to sit down beside her, his long legs stretched out and arms folded. Or at least that was what she imagined.