Take My Hand

Take My Hand Chapter 4

Chapter 4

            Carson laid Jocelyn gently on her sofa, pulling a blanket over her naked body. She probably needed to go to a hospital, but he would leave that decision to her. In the meantime, he would take care of her the best he could.

            He went to bathroom and found the very supplies that she had used on him the night before. Who would have guess that he would now have to patch her up? He got washcloths, towels, and the first aid supplies and returned to the living room, placing them on the floor. He got a large bowl filled with water from the kitchen and placed it beside the couch. He then went to her bedroom to find her some clothes. He found a sports bra, panties, socks, a t-shirt, and sweat pants, hoping that the soft materials would be the most comfortable for her when she awoke. He carried them to the living room as well, placing them on the coffee table before he knelt beside her. He didn’t want to violate her modesty, especially after what had just been done to her, but he needed to get her cleaned up. He didn’t want her to wake up and have to see her body as it looked now.

            He left the blanket covering her body, opting to clean her face and neck first. He wet a washcloth and began to gently cleanse the blood from her collarbone and neck, cringing at the bruises that were steadily growing darker. He gently cleaned the blood from her cheek, from below her nose, and from her beautiful lips. The water in the bowl was beginning to turn a sickly shade of pink, and, for once, the smell of blood did nothing to arouse the predator within Carson. He was too focused on the gentle woman before him. He hurt for her in a way he had never experience before as he gently raise the edge of the blanket to the very tops of her thighs. He carefully, gently cleansed the blood from the insides of her thighs, careful not to hurt her worse.

            After he had managed to clean most of the blood from her body, he smoothed antibiotic cream across her cuts and scrapes and checked for serious injuries. Her stomach could have internal damage from the hits it had taken, but there was no way for him to tell that. Even now, there were dark purple, blue, and black bruises forming across her middle just below her ribs. It didn’t seem high enough to have broken any ribs, thank God. Her nose hadn’t been broken either, despite the blood, but had been busted. Best as Carson could tell, her injuries should heal without medical attention; but the emotional damage may be much harder to heal.

            Carson carefully dressed Jo and tucked her under the blanket, going to the kitchen to get her some water so she could take some pain medicine when she woke up. Then he returned to the living room, took a seat in a chair across from the sofa, and waited, watching her carefully for any signs of distress or of waking, guarding her carefully, protectively.

            Jocelyn slowly opened her eyes, forgetting for a moment the events of the night. She moved to sit up and grabbed her stomach as pain shot through her body. With that sharp reminder, the events of the night caught up to her, hitting her all at once and making her gasp for air. She glanced down at herself, wondering how she had ended up in her living room, dressed and tucked safely into her sofa. The last thing she could remember was passing out after the man kicked her hard in the shoulder, finally allowing her mind to shut down as it crossed the threshold of the pain it could process and remain alert. It had been a welcome relief as she was waiting only for more pain and eventually death. How did I end up here? she wondered to herself, grateful but utterly confused.

            Then a flash a movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She glanced up and saw the image of a man dressed in dark clothing coming toward her. She couldn’t see his face. Her first thought was that they had seen her address on her license in her wallet and taken her home to finish the job. They had been merciless enough to wait for her to wake up, to finish the brutality in her own home. Oh God, it isn’t over, she cried in her mind. Her brain was in overdrive, firing panic neurons faster than her body could process. She wanted to run, but she was tangled in the blanket. She glanced back up to see that the man had moved closer and was standing less than five feet from her now. She was trapped. She did the only thing she knew to do. She screamed, so loud that her own ears rang from the sound. She screamed and cowered into the couch, closing her eyes tight and wrapping her arms around herself to provide at least a little protection.