Guardian (The Guardian Trilogy) (26 page)

My
heart starts to race and blood begins to pound behind my ears. 
No, no, no,
no, no!

In one
swift movement his mouth is on mine.  I try to lean back and push him away, but
I have nowhere to go with the tree behind me.  His hands have moved to my arms,
and he holds me there as his mouth moves softly against mine.  I feel like I’m
falling, like my whole body has gone numb, like my limbs are jelly.  Unwelcome
warmth starts to spread through me.  I try to resist it.  I attempt to turn my
head away, but Dane releases my arm and wraps his hand around the back of my
neck, burning my skin where he touches me.  His other arm wraps around my
waist, pulling me away from the tree.

Now
that I think I have some leverage, I push against his chest again, to squirm
out of his grasp.  He feels what I’m trying to do and he pulls me against him. 
My arms get smashed uncomfortably in between us, and I move them up to try and
break his hold.  His mouth leaves mine and he looks down at me.  “Please
don’t,” he whispers.

I don’t
know if it’s his plea or the look in his eyes; maybe it’s the alcohol still
left in my system.  Whatever it is, in that moment, all my resolve leaves me. 
When his mouth crushes mine again, I want it there.  The warmth that I was
suppressing in my chest moves outward through my body, and I wrap my arms
around his neck, pulling him to me.  A small part of my brain screams “
What
are you doing?!”
but it’s a small part, and it is easily ignored.  His mouth
leaves mine and makes its way to my ear; his teeth graze my earlobe before I
feel his lips on my neck.  I’m lost in a haze.  I know it’s wrong, but I can’t
find one fiber in my being that wants to stop this.

Suddenly
a sad, broken, hollow voice cracks over my shoulder.  It shatters my world into
a million pieces.

“Now
can I say I told you so?”

Sobriety
hits me like a mack truck.  With strength I didn’t know I had, I push hard
against Dane’s shoulders.  He releases me, and I stumble backward a few steps. 
He reaches out to catch my fall, but I violently push his hand away.

“Don’t
touch me!” I snarl at him.

He
looks at me bewildered.  My eyes start to fill with angry tears, and I step to
the side to move around him.  I have to get out of here.  I have to find James.

Dane
backs up a few steps and attempts to stop me from leaving.  He reaches out and
tries to block my path with his arm, tries to grab my waist.  I jerk my body out
of his reach and start to walk quickly back the way we came.  Dane manages to
grab my forearm, and I’m forced to turn and look at him.

“Emma,
wait!”

I stare
at him as tears course down my face.  I clench my jaw and forcefully try to
pull my arm free.  I see his face register my reaction and pain colors his hazel
eyes.  He releases my arm.

“Don’t
you
ever
touch me again,” I growl.

I
take two steps backward and then turn, picking up speed as I head back to the
house.  I leave Dane standing in the backyard alone.  I run away from him.  I
run to find James.

When I
make it home I burst through the door, leaving it open as I enter panicked.  “James!”
I call out.  I look around frantically, wiping the tears from my face.  He’s
not here.

I run
into the living room.  “James!” I yell again, searching.  I feel a sob building
in my chest.  I head for the stairs and take them two at a time.

I make
it to my bedroom only to find it empty.  “James!” I call out again.  Silence. 
I search my room frantically for any sign that he might be here.  “James,
please!” I beg into nothingness.  I have to see him.  I have to beg for his
forgiveness.

I wrap
my arms around myself and end up sliding to the floor next to my bed.  The sob
in my chest continues to grow, threatening to rip through my heart and deflate my
lungs.  How could this happen?  How could I allow
this to happen?  Mrs.
Davis reappears in my head like the Wicked Witch of the West, staring at me
disapprovingly.  Everything James has done to be with me I’ve singlehandedly
ruined.  How can he forgive this?  He can’t.  I know he can’t.  The sob escapes
and I hide my face in my hands.  My heart breaks at the thought that I may
never see him again.

I hear
the back door slam shut downstairs.  I anticipate my parent’s voices calling up
to me to let me know they’re home.  I try to pull myself together, hastily
wiping my face and jumping up to see how terrible I look in the mirror.  My
eyes are red and puffy; my face is covered with red splotches.  There’s no
hiding this.  I make a hasty decision and throw myself into bed.  If they come
up to check on me, I can bury my face in my pillow.  That’s where it will be
spending the night anyway.

I lie
in my bed, my heart pounding, as I wait for their arrival.  But they don’t
come.  They don’t call up to me either.  I glance at the clock.  It’s only been
a few minutes since I heard the door shut.  I wait impatiently; I just want to
lie to them that I’m fine and get it over with.  So I can cry alone.  So I can
hate myself in peace.

After
twenty minutes pass without a word from them I start to worry.  Then my mind
takes a dark turn.  What if it’s not my parents?  What if it’s Dane?  Anger
starts to build in my chest.  How dare he?  How dare he come into my house
uninvited!  What is he doing down there?  Making himself at home?

I throw
off my blankets and march out of my room and down the stairs, ready to give him
a piece of my mind.  I pray James is watching.

I can’t
see anyone when I descend the stairs.  Confused, I walk through the living room
and into the kitchen, prepared to blast Dane with all I have.  When I turn the
corner, my eyes zero in on someone seated at the table.

Someone
I never expected to see again in my lifetime.

Patrick,
my ex-lab partner.

“Hello
Emma.”  A smug smile spreads across his face.  “It’s been too, too long.”

A jolt
of anxiety rips through my body.  How is this possible?

Patrick
looks at me expectantly.  When I don’t say anything, he stands, splaying his
fingers and resting the tips in front of him on the table.  “Aren’t you going
to say hello?”

I continue
to stare at him in shock, taking in his stocky build, cropped blonde hair, brown
eyes, and thin-framed glasses.  His overall appearance looks slightly different,
but maybe my memory is hazy.  He’s wearing a Budweiser t-shirt and denim
shorts.  He starts to come around the table toward me.

“You
know it’s not polite to stare,” he says.  His mouth still wears the smile, but
his eyes harden at my lack of response.

I force
myself to speak.  “Hello Patrick,” my voice wavers.

He
continues to advance toward me.  “Ah, you remember me.  That’s good,” he nods
approvingly.

My
voice is nervous, rough.  “What are you doing here?”

He
reaches me and looks me over from head to toe.  The way his gaze slides over my
body makes my skin crawl.  “Now that would be giving away too much too soon,
don’t you think?”

I take
a step back.  The sense that I am in danger rings loud and clear.  I silently
tell my Guardian that I get the message.  My eyes dart to the door and back to
him.  Is it possible for me to get away?  To make a run for it? 

Patrick
notices my glance and clicks his tongue.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Oh God. 
I swallow nervously.

His brown
eyes turn dark as the smug smile returns.  “The look on your face is
priceless,” he says.  “Even better than I imagined.”

I
narrow my eyes suspiciously even though my heart threatens to hammer through my
chest.  “What do…what do you want?”

“Oh, I’ve
already taken a few things,” he responds, wearing a superior look. “The lock on
your bedroom window is broken,” he says, giving me a sly smile.  He reaches
into his pocket and produces a pair of my underwear.

I
nearly gag at the sight.  He’s been in my room?  How many times?  Were my
parents ever in danger?  Anger slightly edges out my fear.  It simmers, giving
me a small boost of confidence.  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but
you are not welcome in this house.  Leave.  Now.”

Patrick
lets out a snort of laughter.  “Who’s going to make me?  You?”

All I
can do is glare at him.

He
crumples my underwear in his hand and tosses them aside.  “Where’s your James
when you need him now?  Oh, that’s right.  He’s
dead
.”  He twists the
word dead in his mouth.

“You
don’t scare me.”  I’m lying.  I’m scared as hell, but I do my best to sound
convincing.

“Let’s
see what we can do to change that, shall we?”

He
approaches me quickly and holds his face inches from mine.  He’s too close for
my comfort and I lean away automatically, turning my head.

“Look
at me!” he shouts and grabs my arm.

Flinching,
I do my best to face him.  He grips my arm tightly.

“What
do you see?” he demands through clenched teeth.

I don’t
want to make eye contact.  I struggle against his grip and try to back away. 
He grabs my other arm to keep me in place.

“Tell
me what you see!” he yells.

I try
to focus on his face.  I can make out two somewhat jagged, dark pink lines that
cut across his left cheekbone, near his eye.  Now that I’m looking at him
closely, I can see the left side of his face is slightly distorted, almost
swollen, even though the scars look as if they’ve healed long ago.  Is this
what he wants me to see?  “Your face!” I rasp.  “I see your face!”

“Remember
that night?  The night you asked your beloved James to hurt me?” he growls.

“I
never asked him to do that!”

 “Your
boyfriend broke my cheekbone, shattered my eye socket!”  He releases my arms
with a twist, pushing me away.  “That bastard left me partially blind!”

“I’m
sorry that happened to you,” I choke out.  “I didn’t know!”

“Why
would you?” he sneers.  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your perfect life.” 
He pauses and then laughs maniacally.  “But that all came crashing down, didn’t
it?”

I say
nothing; I am mute.

Patrick
shakes his head, his laugh lingering.  He crosses his arms.  “First James
dies.  I admit I was shocked to hear the news.  My condolences,” he leans
toward me and gives me a look that mocks sympathy.  “I figured you’d be pretty
wrecked, but that performance at the funeral,” he lets out a low whistle then
looks me in the eye.  “That was something.”  He smiles knowingly.

I take
a step to the side.  He mirrors my move.

“After
that I thought about things, because, you know, I’m reminded
daily
,” he
points to his marred cheek.  “And I thought, why stop there?  Let’s have some
fun.”

His
twisted expression terrifies me.  I start to back away from him again. 
“Patrick…”

“Slashing
your tire was a rookie move,” he admits.  “It brought me no satisfaction. 
Breaking into your house was almost too easy,” he pauses.  “So I decided to pay
a visit to the Davis’. 
Completely
trashed your reputation there,” he
snickers.  “Now that – that was fun.”

Mrs.
Davis’ voice returns to me –
“I had a visit from your new boyfriend the
other day.” 
I shudder.  I don’t know what to say.  All I know is that I
have to get away, away from here, away from him.  I don’t know what he’s
capable of.  I make a split second decision.  I bolt toward the back door.

“STOP!”
he bellows.  He runs around the kitchen island opposite me and cuts me off,
blocking my way to the door.

I pant
as he continues to walk toward me, pushing me back to where I came from.  “You
will
not
try that again,” he snaps at me.

“Patrick,”
I plead with him.  “I can’t change the past!  My life is broken!  What more do
you want from me?”

He
tilts his head and smiles maliciously as he continues to press me backward. 
Before I can react, the heel of my foot collides with the dining room wall.  I
have nowhere to go.  Patrick advances toward me and reaches out on either side
of my head, pressing his hands against the wall, blocking my exit to my right
and to my left.  I cringe as he leans in close.  I can feel his hot breath on
my skin, below my ear.

“Oh, I
can think of one more way to ruin you,” he whispers and licks my neck.

Time
stands still.  My mind fumbles to wrap around this reality, tries to comprehend
the insanity.  How did this day spiral so wildly out of my control?  I feel my
face grow hot as my heart starts to sputter spastically in my chest.  My vision
blurs, making the room turn fuzzy on the edges.   With just that one act I already
feel violated.

Patrick
moves to look me in the eye.  His face twists into a lurid smile at the horror
on my face.  “I see you understand what I have in mind,” he says and quickly grabs
hold of my chin, clutching it painfully.  “You.  Will.  Not.  Move. 
Understand?”

I nod
meekly.  I understand all too well.  What he doesn’t know is that I’m not going
down without a fight.

“Good
girl,” he approves.  He roughly releases my chin and brings his hand down hard
on my shoulder, pushing me against the wall.  He takes a step closer and stares
down at me as his free hand finds the bottom of my shirt and starts to make its
way underneath.

It’s
now or never.

I slap
him as hard as I can across his face.  My skin hitting his sounds like a whip;
my palm stings at the contact.

“Arrgh!”
he growls and leans back.

I immediately
spring to my right and try to take off, intent on making it to the back door. 
I only make it a few steps.  He catches me from behind, wraps his arms around
mine, and pins them to my sides at my elbows.  I struggle and twist my body
against his.  “NO!” I scream.

Patrick
turns us and starts to tow me backward against my will, pulling me toward the
doorway into the living room.  I’m sure he wants me as far away from an exit as
possible.  I plant my bare feet against the wood floor of the kitchen to try
and hold on to something, anything that will provide resistance against his
pull.

He
realizes what I’m trying to do with my feet and lifts me off the ground
slightly.  He continues to walk backward, holding me up, as I struggle against
him with my upper body.  I can hear him huff with his efforts; he’s getting
winded.  “Stop fighting me!” he shouts.

I start
to wildly kick my legs.  One of my feet ends up winding around his ankle, and I
kick it out from under him.  He loses his balance and stumbles. He falls
backward onto the floor, taking me with him.  I land hard on my back and
tailbone, partially across his body.  His arms release me, and I roll off him,
scrambling to my hands and knees.  I try to stand, but my legs are wobbly.

“DAMN
IT!” I hear him yell from behind me.

Adrenaline
pumps through my veins.  So much so that I can barely control my movements.  My
mind is screaming for my limbs to cooperate, but my arms and legs are all over
the place.  I try to focus on coordinating my body to crawl, but it feels like
I’m crawling in place, putting no distance between me and my attacker.

I
manage to get a few feet away when his hand finds my ankle.  My ribs and my
chin smash against the floor as he yanks me backward, knocking my hands out
from underneath me.  Pain seers through my jaw, and I scream.

I feel
myself sliding across the floor.  Patrick releases my ankle and quickly crawls
up my body to grab a handful of my hair.  He hovers over me, straddling me on
his knees, and pulls my hair painfully to lift my head up. “I said don’t move!”
he snarls in my ear.

He
releases my head violently, pushing me, and my forehead cracks against the wood
floor.  Oh my God.  The pain is indescribable.  I can’t bring myself to scream,
only whimper.

Patrick
rolls my body underneath him so I’m lying on my back.  He remains over me,
kneeling.  My world swirls; I can see his face, I can see the top of the
doorframe above us.  I feel him move my arms to my sides and pin them against
my body with his knees.  I try to move them, but my head is throbbing and black
spots dance across my eyes.

He
leans over me, his face looming above mine.  My mind registers that his glasses
sit on his face askew.  I feel his hands at my waist, pulling at my shorts, unfastening
them.  I try to move my legs to kick, but it’s as if I’m paralyzed.  I close my
eyes to brace for what’s about to happen, willing my body to recover and
cooperate.  I open my eyes to see if the dark spots are gone.

And see
James.

He
stands over us, a look of pure horror on his face.  “James!” I choke out, my
voice barely audible and raspy.

Patrick
hears me and smiles wickedly.  “James can’t save you, sweetheart.”

I focus
on James.  His face reflects everything I’m feeling – hatred, revulsion,
disgust, and fear.  He lunges at Patrick, wrapping his arms around his chest to
pull him off of me.

It has
no effect on him.

But it
does on me.

The
dark spots disappear and even though my head throbs with excruciating pain, I
start to writhe and twist beneath Patrick.  He squeezes my body tighter between
his knees to stop me.  When that’s not enough, he removes his hands from my
body and pins my shoulders to the floor.  “Don’t make me hurt you anymore than
I already planned!”

I see
James wrap his hands around Patrick’s neck and squeeze.  Patrick doesn’t
budge.  James steps back and kicks Patrick repeatedly on his back, in his
side.  He takes another step back and side swipes Patrick’s head with his
foot.  Still nothing.  James looks at me terrified and helpless.

I
return his tortured gaze.  How long can I fend Patrick off?  How badly is he
willing to hurt me?  I know the obvious, but how far will he go to incapacitate
me?  My only option is to keep fighting.  James gives me the strength.  I spit
in Patrick’s face.

“You
bitch!” he snaps and reflexively backhands me.

All I
can see are stars.

Three
loud knocks at the back door make both Patrick and I jump.  BAM!  BAM!  BAM!

Patrick
looks down at me and covers my mouth with his hand.  “You say nothing,” he
warns me.

“Emma!”

It’s
Dane.

“Emma! 
It’s me!” he shouts.  “We need to talk!”  He pounds on the door again.

My eyes
flash to James.  “Scream Emma!” he yells at me panicked.  “Scream!”

I nod
under Patrick’s grip and bite down hard on the flesh of his palm.  He snatches
his hand away and lets out a loud hiss.

And I
scream.  I scream louder than I ever thought I was physically able.

“EMMA!”
I hear Dane yell my name as Patrick slams his hand down on my mouth again.  I
start to twist and kick again underneath him.  I hear the door handle rattle
and turn, but it doesn’t open.  Patrick must have locked it.

“EMMA!” 
I hear loud thumps against the door, the sounds of Dane trying to kick it in.

Patrick
looks around the room frantically weighing his options.  I can see James still
trying, still kicking and hitting Patrick to get him to release me.

The
door gives way with a loud crack.  Dane runs inside, and I make eye contact
with him immediately.  I’m lying in between the kitchen and the living room
held down by Patrick.  His eyes turn wild with fury as he registers the scene. 
He races toward us and dives at Patrick, knocking him off my body as they tumble
to the floor.

I
scramble backward as James rushes to my side.  “Emma!” he yells as he reaches
me.  He grabs my face in his hands, and I look up to oblige him.  “You have to
run!  You have to run now!”

I turn
and look at the back door as it hangs open.  I hear a loud crash and my
attention is drawn to the living room.  Dane and Patrick are a tangle of arms
and legs.  They’ve hit the coffee table and shattered a crystal vase that my
mother had placed there.  I sit transfixed for a moment as I watch Dane punch
Patrick in the side repeatedly, under his ribs, as they wrestle on the floor.

“Emma!”
James shifts my focus.

I look
at him and nod.  I stumble to my feet.  My head throbs relentlessly.  I take
two steps toward the door and stop.  I look back at Dane and Patrick.  The
fight has shifted; both assailants are now standing and circling each other. 
Patrick favors his side and Dane’s nose bleeds.  I can’t leave Dane.  I have to
help him.

James
sees my decision in my eyes.  “No!” he hollers at me.  “Get out of here!  He
can handle this!”

I want
to run away, but my conscience tells me no.  Or my Guardian tells me no.  I’m
still fuzzy on how that works.  “I can’t just abandon him!”

“The
hell you can’t!” James fires at me.  “You’re hurt!”

“Someone’s…my
Guardian is telling me to stay!”

James
curses under his breath.

Dane
and Patrick are too focused on each other to pay attention to my one-sided
conversation.  Dane swings at Patrick and misses; Patrick takes a step and
turns his back toward me.  I look around hurriedly to see what I can grab to
hit Patrick with.  My eyes fall on a heavy bronze candle base on the side
table.  I race forward and grab it, knocking the candle off the top.  I cross
the short distance to Patrick and pray I have enough strength to do some damage
as I raise the base over my head.  My action distracts Dane and he catches my
eye.

Alerted
to my presence behind him, Patrick swings suddenly and catches me square in the
chest with his forearm.  It’s enough to knock the wind out of me and send me
flying.  I trip and fall, landing on my side, my weapon flying from my hands.

Someone
lets out a guttural growl.  I don’t know if it’s James, Dane, or Patrick.  I do
know that my lungs gasp for air, my head throbs mercilessly, and I’m having a
hard time deciding on my next move.  Blackness starts to creep into my line of
vision again.  I fight it.  I cannot pass out.

Dane
charges into Patrick, knocking him back and against the floor in front of me
with a loud thud.  They roll and Patrick tries holding Dane down.  Dane pushes
him off easily and backs up to stand.  I see Patrick search the floor, smile,
and reach out to grab something.  He stands again and starts to advance.

“What
are you going to do with that?” Dane taunts Patrick even though his breathing
is labored and blood runs down his chin from his nose.

Patrick
glares at Dane, sidesteps, and tries to work him into the corner.  I’ve managed
to get to my knees, but I’m having a hard time moving past kneeling.  James is
by my side.  “Stay down!” he yells at me.

I look
at Patrick and Dane again.  Patrick holds a shard of the broken vase.  He
clutches it so tightly that I can see blood starting to creep around his
fingers.  He jabs at Dane with it.  He misses.

“Is that
all you’ve got?” Dane taunts him again, running the back of his hand under his
nose, smearing his blood across his forearm.

Patrick
goes at him again.  He misses the mark, but he’s getting closer.  I can’t stop
myself and yell, “Dane!”  I’m sure it’s anything but helpful.

“Get
out of here!” he shouts without looking at me.

I can
feel James’ cool grip around my arm as he tries to help me stand, as he tries
to pull me away.

The
next time Patrick moves at Dane, Dane’s ready.  He grabs a hold of his forearm,
the hand that holds the glass, and tries to twist it so he’ll drop his crude
weapon.  Patrick breaks his hold and lunges forward again.

“UGH!”
Dane grunts and Patrick grins wickedly.  I know Dane’s been hit.

“NO!” I
scream from my knees.

Dane
staggers trying to catch his breath, bent over and clutching at his side. 
Patrick shifts his gaze to me.  “Already on your knees,” he leers.  “Perfect.”

Will he
never give up?

What he
says enrages James.  He leaps to his feet from my side, murder in his eyes.  He
barrels straight for Patrick.

And what
happens next astounds me.

James
hits Patrick hard, head on in the chest, ramming him with his shoulder. 
Patrick’s eyes grow wide as his breath is knocked from him by an invisible
force, as his body is literally knocked up into the air.  He flies backward and
lands on the brick hearth with a sickening crunch, his head hitting the glass
fireplace doors.

James
turns to me and blinks, shocked by what he’s done.  Dane pulls out the shard of
glass embedded in his side and looks up, confused.  He turns to me briefly
before a moan escapes the wounded, drawing his attention back to Patrick. 
Patrick raises his body to his elbows, bends his knees and tries to stand.  Dane
is in front of him in two strides.  He reaches out, grabs Patrick’s head
between his hands, and slams it against the fireplace doors.  Patrick slumps to
the side, unconscious.

Dane instantly
turns to me.  His eyes look haunted as he looks me over.  “Emma?”

It’s
only now that I realize I’m crying.  I don’t know when I started, but I feel
the tears running down my face.  My muscles ache and my head pounds.  I start
to feel dizzy, so I close my eyes.

“Emma!”
Dane yells as I crumple to the floor.  When he reaches me, I feel him touch my
neck, looking for my pulse.  He strokes my forehead, pushing my hair away from
my face.  “Hold on,” he whispers and then disappears.