Unfound

29

It was dark, cold. I shivered. I couldn't see anything around me. I looked into oblivion, nothing. Suddenly there was a figure walking towards me, tall and lanky, hair half blonde and half black. He was in front of me in a second. He looked up, half his face was scarred beyond recognition, the other nearly perfect. Braden. He lunged for me, his hand wrapped tightly around my neck.

I gasped and sat up. The world was bright, I had to squint to see anything. My breathing was quick and heavy. I heard a machine beep and I jumped. Someone touched my arm and I froze. A figure was beside me, Braden. I was frozen in peril. I wanted to fight, to kick or scream, but I couldn't move. I could barely make any noise. All that emerged from my throat was a measly squeak. Damn, I sounded so weak. He'd overpower me for sure.

"It's me. You're safe, Kara. It's me, Liam."

Liam? I relaxed slightly, my eyes adjusting to the new, florescent light. His face came clear into view in front of me. Liam! I tried to lean forward, my ribs barking in protest. I groaned and fell back onto my pillow. What happened to me? I definitely hadn't been this bad off in the basement.

Liam gently stroked my hair, "It's okay, just lean back. You're safe. You can relax. He can't hurt you. It's okay." I reached up to hold his hand, my wrists finally free from each other. I flicked my hands in different directions, not quite used to the separate freedom of motions. I smiled to myself. I caught a glimpse of my wrists, torn and bloody, they'd surely be scarred for a very long time. The smile left my lips. I closed my eyes, and leaned into his touch.

He held my hands in his, lightly tracing my scarred wrists. He kissed each of my hands, his lips barely grazing my skin. I didn't want him to see me like this. I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I felt his breath still close to my hands as he spoke softly, "These scars, Kara, they only show where you've been." A tear escaped my eyes and started trailing down my face. "They don't tell you what's going to happen in the future. That's up to you. You're done with him and this." He let out a sigh, barely audible. A door slammed shut down the hall. Bang.

The gun shot. The detective. Braden. My eyes burst open as I tried to speak. My mouth was open, but no words were coming out. I tore my hands from his and began to feel around my head, knowing the blood I'd find was of a different man. My hair was stringy and crackling with dried blood. I had to stop myself from gagging.

Liam held my face in his hands. I wanted so desperately to ask him about his own wounds, but nothing, not even a sound. I couldn't speak. Braden had taken that away from me too. My eyes began to well up with tears. Braden couldn't see them anymore.

Liam was there instantly, "Shhh, it's okay. You were on a breathing tube. The doctors just took it out. They told me you might not be able to speak for a few hours." He rustled around the desk beside me, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen, "You can use this."

I nodded and reached to take the paper and pen from him. I saw him stare at my wrists. I would too, they were mangled beyond belief. The scars would always be there. Liam tried to smile at me, but I saw the anger behind it. If I hadn't killed Braden, he would have.

I killed Braden.

Any joy or relation that I had slipped into was gone. I had killed someone. Taken a life. I looked at the pen in my hand. Light as a trigger. I shuddered and dropped the pen, feeling the ghost of the trigger kick back. The pen fell to the floor, my brain oblivious to any sound it made. There was a cut on my hand from where the gun had shot back in my grip. I killed him. I began to sob.

He was a boy. An angry boy who had been abandoned by his father. He watched the rest of his loving family die, and then was left like he was nothing. No one knew who he was or that he was even alive. He was a dead man who lived and breathed. He probably hadn't been able to speak either, not truly. Not with a real voice. Everything about his life had been made up. He didn't exist, but he was real enough to hurt a lot of people. He wasn't a good person, but he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to die.

Liam wrapped his arms around me and climbed into the small bed with me. He pulled me close against him, wiggling into the sheets, not saying a word. I had to picture Liam's face in my mind to know it truly was him. It wasn't Braden. He wasn't Braden. I had to repeat that in my head, he's not Braden. I had slept next to that man for so long, in a bed that was mine but wasn't, I had forgotten what it was like to sleep with someone I actually loved. I buried my face in his chest, his scent making me sob harder. He smelled like home, like safety. He's not Braden. I couldn't control myself. The tears flowed as heavily as a roaring river, not an end in sight. Liam was here. My safety net. He wouldn't let anything happen to me again. Eventually, drained of tears and energy, I fell asleep in Liam's arms.

Liam

She was in worse shape than I had imagined. Her chart read that she had two broken ribs, three cracked, a collapsed lung, and a broken nose as well as severe lacerations on both of her wrists. It was also likely that she had lost a significant amount of hearing in her right ear, but they wouldn't know that for sure until they did more tests after she had woken up. And... He had invaded her. There were signs that she was sexually abused. The psycho. At that moment I wished he was alive just so I could torture him the way he had tortured Kara. I couldn't believe this. I never imagined this, I couldn't have. When I walked into the room, I wasn't expecting her to be this bad. The tube was still hanging out of her throat, helping her to breath. Keeping her alive. One of her eyes was almost completely swollen shut and her lip was split on one of the sides. Dried blood coated her right ear and her hair was pushed straight up under her head. Her hair was darker than it had been before. Coated in something. He had beaten her nearly to death, and he would have killed her if Detective O'era hadn't showed up when she did.

The other officer had filled me in after I woke up the second time. He told me everything that had happened. Everything O'era had sacrificed and risked for Kara. He told me what Kara did to Braden, ensuring he'd never hurt anyone again.

We both expressed concern that due to this he could never confess to the other women he had kidnapped and we may never find their burial place, but I was just happy Kara was okay. We could find the other women later, we knew where his hiding place was and they had to be somewhere on the property or nearby. Braden was guilty of everything. He was guilty of kidnapping and murder and torture, even if we couldn't technically prove it.

After he left I cried for her. I cried for Detective O'era who had lost her sister to this monster and possibly even her own life. I cried for the pain Kara had to go through, not able to be there when she truly needed me the most. And I cried for the humanity Kara had lost to him, losing what meant most to her. She had taken another person's life. She would never be the same, she could never trust the same, her heart being more cautious about those around her. Her bright light would be dimmed which was a loss in itself.

She knew this might happen when she would become a police officer herself, but they have proper training and protocols and other people who have been through the same thing in order to make sure that they are mentally prepared and taken care of after. They have therapy and counseling and books to read and experienced pros to talk to. She didn't have any of that yet. She had protected herself in self defense, yes, but she still took a life nonetheless. She treated any frog with the same respect as a human, the loss of any life would be unbearable to her.

I stood next to her, holding her hand, leaning over her, waiting for her to wake up once the doctors removed the tube. I just wanted to look her in the eyes. To hear her voice. To know that even though she wasn't okay, that she was alive. That would be enough. I just wanted proof. The body laying in front of me wasn't enough. She was being kept alive, not strong enough to breath on her own yet, maybe not even for a while. She was a fighter, there's no doubt about that, but she needed help. She needed me and there was nothing I could do.

I knew how frightened she would be, or at least I thought I knew. The fear in her eyes when she startled awake was unlike anything I had ever seen before. She had gone through hell for weeks, never feeling safe and always on edge, ready to be beaten and killed and... God, I wanted to cry for her again.

She couldn't speak, frightened she would never speak again. Once she finally broke down, I crawled in beside her, holding her tight, trying to be her safety. Her protector. I had failed my job the day she was taken and I would never make that mistake again. As I held her, shaking, I imagined what our life would have been like if this never happened. If I hadn't let my guard down. A fantasy, but it shouldn't have been. I held her until we both fell asleep.