Beautiful Pain

Chapter 13

Novalee

After his mother left last night, Deacon declared a movie night. He carried me up to our bed and had me search through Netflix while he went down stairs to bring snacks. I chose The Shining from a list of movies that Sawyer said I have to watch to be able to function in normal society.

Deacon held me and fed me mint chocolate chip ice cream until I ended up falling asleep on his chest. This morning when we woke up, he seemed distracted. He moved around the kitchen making a frittata with a faint smile on his lips and a faraway look in his eyes. I tried asking him what was wrong, but he just smiled at me and kissed my forehead before going to get ready for a 'very important meeting'.

Now I'm sitting next our porch, watching the neighbors walk dogs and hurry off to work. Sawyer's jeep pulls into the drive and I sit a little straighter with a smile. It took a few days in his company, but I can finally say that I can relax around him. He's become like a brother to me, and it warmed my heart when Deacon told me how angry Sawyer would get every time I was beaten.

"What's up Miss Novalee?" He throws himself into the seat next to me and stretches his legs out into the porch railing.

"Just people watching. I watched The Shining last night, it was really good. Kind of creepy."

"Kubrick's or King's?" He questions with a serious look upon his handsome face.

"Um, is there a difference?" I had no idea and he seems to take offense to this.

"Is there a difference?!" He exclaims with mock outrage. "Kubrick's version was good and all, but he took advantage of the artistic license. The entire ending was changed and he didn't even film at The Stanley. He built a separate hotel and didn't even bother trying to make them look similar. King wrote the book at The Stanley and so he supported a mini series that stays true to the book and is actually filmed at the hotel. It's so much better. I probably should have noted the difference on that list." He ruffles his hair with a frown of concentration.

"Is this a bad time to ask what The Stanley is?" I smirk at him, knowing that it will get a rise out of him. I've come to learn that Sawyer is very passionate about books and movies. And when a book is adapted into a movie? He's just about rabid. He will read a book he's not even interested in just to see if the movie "respected the characters and plot lines" he's that obsessed.

"Oh my poor, innocent little Novalee." He shakes his head dramatically with an amused glint in his eyes. Before he can open his mouth, he hisses in pain and clutches his stomach.

"Sawyer? Sawyer, what's wrong?" I rush to his side and hesitate to touch him, not wanting to make it worse.

"Something's happening." He chokes out and manages to stand before heavily leaning on me for support. "Inside. Please, inside." Sawyers jaw clenches and I see a handprint shaped bruise appear on his jaw, as if someone was covering his mouth harshly.

"Ok, it's ok I've got you." I try to keep myself calm as a grunt of pain escapes his mouth. I use my foot to push the door handle down and kick it open. We stumble through into the living room, and Sawyer crashes down onto the couch.

     When he hears me shut the door, Sawyer let's loose a scream of agony. My mind flashes back to my piano recital as I clutch his hand and watch on helplessly. I feel just as useless now as I did then. His hair is drenched in sweat and tears stream down his face. Dark, ugly bruises bloom across the right side of his face and across his nose.

     I try to soothe him with my words, but I know he can't hear me through his pain. I don't even know what I'm saying, but I keep trying any way.

"Nova-" He cries out and my heart clenches, "Nova, she's being raped." Sawyer chokes out and clutches his lower abdomen with fear and anger clearly stamped on his face. "Oh God I can feel it, that son of a bitch!" He screams and screams, his voice is filled with pain, anger, and despair.

     All I can do is hold his hand and cry. The grip he has on me is painful, and I'm surprised my bones haven't snapped yet. But I refuse to say anything. I'll take a little pain if it means supporting my friend. The phone rings and I answer, knowing that it's probably Deacon worried about the pain.

"Nova, are you ok?" His voice is frantic with worry, but all I can focus on is Sawyer's body writhing in pain on our couch.

"It's Sawyer, he's hurting Deacon. His mate..." I trail off, not wanting to say the words that are choking me.

"He's raping her, Deak. It hurts so much, my god it hurts so bad." Sawyer sobs and clutches my hand tighter.

"I'm coming home, just sit with him. I'll be there soon, love." He hangs up before I can say anything else.

    More bruises appear on his arms, I get up and lift his head. I sit down and lay his head on my lap and stroke his wet hair and let him cry into my stomach. Sawyer let's go of my hand and wraps his arms around my waist tightly as he screams in pain again. His shirt rides up and I can see the marks of stab wounds appear on his abdomen.

"Oh god he's killing her!" He wails into my shirt, as his body finally stops writhing in pain, signaling the end of the attack.

"Shh, Sawyer it's going to be ok." I stroke his hair for another minute as he cries. "Let me check the marks." I whisper.

    Sawyer rolls his hips to the side, allowing me access to lift shirt without releasing my waist. I pull the material away and wince at the ugly bruises and seven stab wounds.

"She's ok Sawyer. She's not dead yet, those aren't death marks. As long as she gets to a hospital, she'll be ok. She's fighting." I rock him back and forth and pray that I'm not lying. I pray that she makes it to help before she's too far gone.

     Sawyer's body shakes with tears until he eventually quiets. His breathing evens out as I continue to stroke his hair and he falls asleep just before Deacon walks through the door in panic.

"He just fell asleep." I say quietly, not taking my eyes off of Sawyer's battered face.

"He's probably going to be out for a while." Deacon sits on the arm of the couch next to me and lays my head on his lap. "Every time this happened with you, I was exhausted and slept for hours after and it still wasn't enough." His voice is quiet and filled with sadness. I don't know if it's for the memories he's probably reliving, or for his best friend. "How long did it last?"

I check the clock on the wall, "About an hour. We were just talking on the porch when it started." I lift my head and check on Sawyer's marks again to make sure there hasn't been a change.

"Wait, what's that?" Deacon stops me from lowering Sawyer's shirt and gestures to his back. I lean over and take in the bruising in the middle of his back. It's in the shape of an odd, wobbly sort of spiral, and around the edges I can just make out the word historic.

"What is it?" I frown at the odd shape, and am startled when I look up and see a giant smile on Deacon's face.

"I know where she is."

Yay! It didn't take as long to write as I feared. And now that I've finished this I kind of feel awful for being so excited to put Sawyer through this. 😕 Oh well, it's not like I killed him or anything.....

Fun fact!! The only reason I chose The Shining is because my husband and I spent our honeymoon at The Stanley, and can you guess what movie they play on repeat there? Yep. The Shining. I'm packing up some stuff as we are getting ready to buy a house and I stumbled across our old key card, so I'm feeling all nostalgic. 😂 yeah I totally accidentally flashed a guy coming to bring champagne and red velvet cake to our room thinking it was my husband. Good times...

Love, love!!

P.S. what should I name Sawyers soulmate? I've got a head cold and so I'm not in the mood to name her myself. 😂✌🏼