Chapter 8
I smashed head-on into the tree and my head slammed into the wheel. The steel warped against it like it was nothing but a cheap little toy car. The frame crumpled inward, around me, puncturing my side! The tone of the bending metal drowned out my scream – which turned into a whaling shriek as it crushed my leg! Fuck, fuck! Oh dear god! Soon my audible pain was the only sound left in the air.
Wow, it's so bad, that hurts so bad! I never experienced such an intense pain. Never felt such immediate fatigue and vertigo. Ugh, it made me want to faint! My pressurized head was throbbing, my vision was blotchy, and my crushed leg was unbearable! I just wanted to be okay, but I didn't feel okay. Fast breaths rushing through my hisses of agony allowed me to taste iron. Hopefully it was only from the blood that streamed from my nose to my parted lips and nothing internally. Oh god....
Am I okay? I don't feel okay. That's all I could think, guys. I was scared because I did not feel okay. I don't want to die. I really don't want to die. The sudden stillness of my surroundings didn't calm me either. If anything, it allowed me to register how serious this was. Spots clouded my vision and I could barely see anything when I frantically looked around. From what I could to tell, despite my airbags not going off, my chest and stomach seemed untouched. Thank god. So I should be okay. Right?
The car itself didn't help my poor assessment. I was still sitting in my seat. My chest, vital organs, my head – seemed mainly okay. But the rest of my body was pinned and surrounded by the bent car and tree bark. I couldn't see my dead leg under the steel. All I could see was the massive tree though the cracked windshield, brightly lit by my headlights. My side and arm were contorted to the door thanks to another tree against my driver's side door. I didn't realize it, but I must have slid or smashed against that one too from the side. Instinctively, I tried shifting my body—
"Ahhhhhh," I grunted and cried, breath hitching harder. Nope! Not doing that again. That small movement shredded the insides of my left arm and side! Same thing went for my pinned leg too!
Great. I would need help (or help would be preferred compared to trying to move like that again). I had a feeling I was out of luck though. Though I had one free arm that didn't hurt like a big stubborn bitch, I was unable to find my phone with it. And sure, I crashed close to the road, but the pitch-black night and the woods would make it hard to be seen by anyone driving by.
Oh! But what about the person? You know, the dumbass that was standing in the road for funsies! For the small second they were in sight, it actually had looked like a woman. Maybe she could help me? It was a close call, but I didn't hit her. Though I would love to smack the shit out of her for causing this, I was incredibly grateful she didn't get hurt.
Over my humming car, my breathing, the crickets... I heard footsteps approaching the passenger side. Twigs and leaves crunched under each fast step. Thank god. She was coming to help! The sooner the better too; I just wanted the pain to stop. I just wanted to be okay. That was an increasing concern since my vision wasn't any better yet.
Looking towards the passenger window, all I could see was thick brush being dragged out of the way from where it was crowded around the passenger side. It allowed the person to open the door in a swift motion. The headlights and the interior light turning on allowed me to see enough despite the darkness and my poor vision. It wasn't the woman on the road. Any guesses, folks?
There was no doubt in mind anymore. Fuck any of that 'coincidence' nonsense. It was already weird just how often we ran into each other. Of course, that wasn't exactly at the forefront of my painful head. I was dazed, light-headed, and in immense pain. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I just stared at him
His eyes assessed me, my body, and the car around me from where he stood with the open passenger door. Then, Peter quickly dipped into the car and knelt onto the seat; he leaned closer, looking down towards my leg. The guy appeared calm, but it was the first time I witnessed genuine concern on his face. It was such a huge difference from what I've seen before from him. Didn't know that was possible.
He strained forward more from where he was leaning, reaching above me and past me to prop his hand against my crumpled door. It allowed him to hover closer and get a better view of this side of the car – and a better view of why I was unable to move on my own.
He was so close to me and I could barely see anything, but it allowed me to focus on his soft and faint cologne. From the material of his sleek and form-fitting shirt was... a mix of sage with a hint of mint. Not sure why, but I found his cologne quite fitting for him. Of course, it's not like that is relevant. No need to take notes, friends. It was just a nice smell and a nice distraction I suppose.
Eyeing below my waist, he kept himself propped up with his arm so he could reach down with his other between my left leg and the bent steel. Good luck, buddy. It felt like trying to move a mountain. Fingers gingerly following my work pants, he found where my leg was crushed and trapped. That alone made me tense and hiss a few inches from where his upper chest hovered.
Pursing his lips, his eyes met mine. "When I move this, try to not make a lot of noise."
Why did I have to be quiet? Plus, that would be impossible anyway for how painful this already was – and just as impossible as freeing me too. Yet, somehow... miraculously he did. With his one arm and hand, he pressed and moved the deformed metal that trapped my leg!
Oh! It was both excruciating and relieving! My leg was free and my lungs involuntarily sucked in hard. That second, his hand cupped my mouth as I cried out, groaned, and panted from the pain. The pressure gone allowed my leg to throb and sting even worse! It was crushed and clearly broken!
Hand still clasped over my mouth, Peter wrapped his free and strong arm around my back, pulling me over to the passenger seat. He was careful with my leg, but I couldn't help but let out a few muffled grunts against his hand. Again... why? He actually appeared worried for me, but why did I need to be quite? I guess you can take the ass out of the asshole, but not the weirdness and mystery!
Once he maneuvered me of the car, his hand fell away from my mouth. Carefully lifting me in his arms, he carried me a few yards away to a large tree. Kneeling down, he positioned my back against it while being mindful of my leg. He leaned in, checking my side, my stinging arm. He looked over the blood running from either my forehead or nose, but then his brown eyes caught mine. They stayed in mine. For a long moment. Strangely, it felt like I was seeing him for the first time.
"You really are the world's worst driver, aren't you?" he asked in a whisper, lips spreading into an amused smile.
"You're the world's worst stalker," I mumbled, tasting the blood on my words. "Call an ambulance. Please."
He slid closer to me on his knees. "You won't need one."
I wanted to question him, demand I go to the hospital. My head was pounding, I was bleeding, my leg was crushed and the pain was overwhelming. But his gaze snagged my full attention – in a very beautiful and unnatural way. Not really sure why, but it made me start to feel calm and content, as if I didn't need to worry.
"So. I bet this a coincidence too then, huh?" I challenged, knowing damn well it wasn't. Three times was pushing it. But running into each other a fourth time? With zero reason for him to be out here and find me right after I crash? Yeah right.
"There's no such thing as a coincidence," he said evenly. "Which is why you're dangerous."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry about it," he said lightly. "You won't have any pain soon. You won't even remember any of this."
My heart jumped in fear. "No more pain? And you aren't taking me to the hospital... does that mean you're going to kill me?"
He cocked his head in surprise and amusement. "No. No, that does not mean I'm going to kill you. You won't feel any pain soon because I'm going to heal you myself."
"Oh. That's good," I nodded in a dazed relief. "Better than getting murdered for sure."
"Yes, it is," he said, surprisingly letting out a laugh. "First though, I need to see what Jamie was talking about." Then, as his eyes found mine again, he grasped my limp hand and intertwined our fingers.
I'm not sure what the purpose of that strange action was or even what those words meant. Taking my hand though, it was clearly a disappointment for him. Confused, his brows dipped and he looked down to analyze my hand in his. Again, I didn't know what to think and was quite confused myself. Why was he holding my hand and fascinated with it?
"What are you doing? Your brother kind of did the same thing not that long ago."
He didn't answer. Instead, he locked his eyes in mine again, grasped my hand tighter, and then cupped my cheek with his other hand. As if this intense and close contact was supposed to do something (aside from nearly give me a heart-attack because of his stupid good-looks and close proximity).
"What the fuck?" he mumbled to himself. "See, this is why I didn't want to get involved with you. You're too dangerous."
"What are you talking about? And what are you even doing? I don't understand any of this. Just please! I'm hurt, I'm really hurt, I need help," I groaned.
"This better at least work." Half rolling his eyes, he slid is hand up to my forehead.
The moment his palm made contact with my bloody skin... my spotty vision that started to clear returned but as a swift and black curtain. Suddenly, there was nothing, and I unknowingly fell asleep.
***
When my eyes opened, I didn't know what to think, what to expect. What even happened? Did I smell bacon? More importantly, where was I? Because I sure as shit wasn't home!
I was sprawled on a black leather couch with a fuzzy blanket over me. The foreign living room made me prop myself up and look around. Nobody was in sight, but one thing was for sure: I was in one very snazzy house.
The living room was massive and had two-story high ceilings. It seemed modern, yet with an old-style comfortable vibe. Wood trim boarded the walls, matching the hardwood floors. There was smaller couch adjacent to the one I was on and a matching recliner. Along with the area rug, it was all angled to face a huge flat-screen. Sure, the TV was impressive, but not as impressive as the window-covered wall behind it. There were columns of tall windows spaced along the whole length of the wall. However, this sitting area only took up maybe a third of the tall and open living room.
Along the walls were some bookshelves. There was even a tan brick fireplace in the corner where the window wall ended, which made such a big room quite cozy (well, it would be cozy if I knew where the fuck I was). Then, when I glanced behind me... well holy damn. We went from 'modern snazzy' to 'low-key palace' real quick.
Behind the couch was the rest of the living room – and the top of the second floor thanks to the high ceilings. There was a left staircase and a right staircase along each wall that was guided by curved black iron railings. Below the second floor and between the stairs was a hallway leading to the front of the house. I could see the front door – which was far more appealing than any of this. Because again... where the fuck was I?
Oh my god, last night. The memory slammed into my head. I tossed the blanket off me. Jesus, my leg, could I move it? I was in different clothes. I had to wonder if I was in a different body too because when I cautiously shifted my knee... I felt no pain. What the hell? With a gasp, I shifted my left knee again and... still zero pain. As if I didn't break it last night!
I stared in shock at my bare legs below the over-sized shorts I was in. There wasn't even a single bruise. No soreness, no pain, nothing. Not even when I sat up and swung my feet to the wooden floor. My left side and my head didn't hurt either. How? Was this another vivid dream? There was no way. I was aware when I was dreaming before and this was no damn dream.
Flustered, I stood up— nope, still no pain— and was unsure whether I wanted to find someone or find a way out of here. Before I could take two steps though, someone entered from the side of the living room through what looked to be the dining area. It was him – that Peter asshole dude. After last night, I truly didn't know whether to feel relief or fear. He saved me last night, but he refused to take me to the hospital. So then did he actually save me then?
"Look who decided to finally get off my couch."
Reaching the back of the other couch, he rested his palms against the back frame of it. The collared polo he wore showed off his tattooed arms. Unlike last night, he seemed to be back to his usual dick self. Of course, I was now more mentally aware and not as dazed from any pain. I almost wished I was. Because with everything coming back to me, I was freaking out.
"What's going on? What did you do to me?"
"Don't you mean 'thank you' instead?"
"What? For kidnapping me? That was last night, so how am I healed? My leg, I mean, how? What did you do to me?" I stuttered frantically, running a hand through my knotty hair.
He looked bored already. "What are you talking about?
"My leg! It was broken – fucking broken. And you wouldn't take me to the hospital because you're a sick stalker. Bringing me here, and undressing me, and-and-and putting me in your clothes!"
I didn't think I could be both utterly confused and angry, but here I be, folks! Could you blame me? There was just so much that I didn't know! Was it great that I was healed? Sure. Hard to be happy though when it should be impossible and when so many weird confusing things happened! Like where do I even start! Then, as if last night wasn't enough... I get this from him:
"I didn't realize helping someone made me a creep. And you're insane. You didn't break your leg, you barely had any scratches. It wasn't anything that serious. You did smack your head pretty hard though – which I guess explains why you're being delusional and overdramatic."
Yes, those words left his mouth. Didn't break my leg? Barely any scratches? Was this a joke? I was a logical person. I did know that I smacked my head and my comprehension might have been spotty. But that crash, every moment that occurred, it happened. It fucking happened.
I stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking in a slow even voice. "You're trying to tell me... that I didn't break my leg? That it wasn't crushed? You're saying you didn't unpin me and drag me out of my car because I could barely move? You're telling me those things didn't happen?"
"That's what I'm telling you. Sit down and I'll tell you what actually happened—"
"No, I know what actually happened. I want to know how I'm magically healed."
"Oh hey, you're up," came a different voice. Jamie walked in from behind his brother, eating from a plate of pancakes and bacon. "I made breakfast if you're hungry."
Breakfast. Thank god for breakfast because that was clearly the most crucial concern. Yeah, no. I wish I could even say that seeing him made me relax, but how could I? Peter literally was lying and acting as if I didn't get seriously injured last night! But I did! Not only that, but there was no possible way for me to be healed from it either right now! And there was also no possible way I imagined those details either.
"Josephine, I'd love to know how many vehicles you've totaled in your lifetime," Jamie teased, taking a bite from his fork as he sat down on the recliner.
"So I did total my car then, huh? I guess wasn't imagining that?" I challenged to Peter.
From where I stood, his fair skin was blank of emotions (aside from a growing irritation in his brown gaze). "Would you just sit down and let me explain?" he sighed.
"Alright, go for it," I snapped, promptly taking a seat on the couch. Good luck convincing me that I half imagined last night. Especially since I recalled him saying that I won't remember any of last night. Yeah, that was a whole other bundle of 'what the fuck.'
"I was driving home when I saw your car smashed into a tree. Big shocker there with your driving habits," he mumbled, half rolling his eyes. "Anyway, you're break-lights were just barely visible, otherwise I wouldn't have seen you. When I got to you, you clearly smacked your head because you were bleeding from your nose. But that was the extent of your pain – believe me, I asked you several times, and you reassured me you were fine. When I helped you out of the car, your legs were fine, you were even walking fine. I was going to take you home, but then you told me your sister was out of town and—"
"I never once told you my sister was out of town," I snapped.
"You did."
I didn't! I didn't and wouldn't have told him that. Regardless, that was only a small part of the huge mountain of bullshit he had the balls to throw at me! Like... I didn't even know where to begin! I just... among my boiling emotions, I was just so baffled.
Shifting his weight, Peter continued unflinchingly with his words. You know, as if he wasn't literally making up a story that we both knew was fake! "So anyway, being a gracious Samaritan, I didn't feel comfortable dropping you off when you would be alone. Especially after you just smacked your head. Around that time, you passed out in my car, so I brought you to my house to look after you."
Honestly, I would have loved it if his little simple story was true. I wish that was how it happened. I really wish I was dumb enough to buy his story too. And let me tell you guys... I really wish I could recall telling him about my sister. I wish I could remember telling him I was fine. But instead, I begged him to take me to the hospital. Hell, the only thing I could not recall was how or when I passed out. The events of what happened were immensely vivid. Trust me, I wish they weren't.
Tense and on edge, I took a few long deeps. I was trying not to flip my shit on this guy. I was really trying. He was pretty good at naturally pissing me off, but this... this was so unnerving, so infuriating, so confusing.... I was just plain disturbed and flustered at this point.
It was evident too. I was stiffly perched on the edge of the couch by now with my crossed arms as frozen as the rest of me. "Why didn't you think to take me to the hospital then, Mr. Good Samaritan?" I finally asked.
Wandering to sit against the arm of the couch, he shrugged. "You smacked your head, but told me you were fine. You seemed okay too after I checked. But I even asked and offered to take you to the hospital, but you didn't want to."
That did it.
"Didn't want to?! I was fucking begging you to call an ambulance! Begging you! That's all I wanted! Why are you making up bullshit lies?! You know exactly what happened!" I shouted, getting to my feet. "Why are you saying this? What the fuck did I do to you?!"
"Listen, you smacked your head really hard. Why would I lie? How do you explain being healed if you really did break your leg?"
"I don't know how I'm healed – that's why I'm freaking out," I said, forcing myself to lower my voice. "How am I supposed to believe you when I remember you saying I won't remember any of this? You said you were going to make the pain go away and that I wouldn't remember anything. Did-Did you drug me? Just the fact that you were the one that found me is a red fucking flag." Not to mention all the other weird stuff last night. Like him grabbing my hand, wanting me to stay quiet, saying I was dangerous....
While Jamie enjoyed the show, trying more quietly to eat his pancakes as he looked between us, his brother was clearly getting bored. Peter wandered over and gazed through one of the long vertical windows. "Are you ever just not a handful to deal with? Jesus. No, sorry, but none of those things happened. Again, it's just a coincidence that I was the one that found you."
That word – coincidence. It triggered another memory from last night. When he leaned me against the tree (because I broke my damn leg), I called him out. You know, since he just 'happen' to find me and run into me once again. That's when he told me that coincidences don't exist. Whether that implied that finding me was no accident, I wasn't sure. But regardless, he now was contradicting his words from last night.
It made me nonchalantly ask, "So you're telling me... you believe in coincidences that much, huh?"
His mindless gaze froze on the window for a long second. Clearly, I didn't 'imagine' that comment last night. He knew what I was referring to. "Coincidences can happen. Not everything has a meaning or reason."
Bullshit. He knew it was bullshit – and he knew I wasn't buying it either just from my question!
"How did you end up crashing anyway?" Jamie asked, taking another bite with his fork.
I groaned. "Some chick was just... standing in the road. I didn't see her in time to stop, so I had to veer off the road to miss her."
"In the road and out in the middle of nowhere? Sounds as crazy as you breaking your leg then it magically healing," Peter mumbled before exiting the room.
His words would have infuriated me more if I thought he meant them. I knew he was covering his own ass. I knew I wasn't delusional. For whatever reason, he just refused to give me any answers. He refused to acknowledge what really happened. Maybe because he didn't have good enough answers for what actually occurred last night. Maybe it was because he did drug me? Or maybe he was following me (since he told me last night it was not a coincidence that he found me). Even then, how do you explain my healed body? And he was so nice to me, so worried last night... until the end. Until he grabbed my hand and for whatever reason... was annoyed, shocked, and his cold guard shot back up.
It put my frustration on the back burner because I was slowly realizing... there was something up with Peter. You don't pull me from my crashed car, refuse to take me to the hospital, and then make up a whole other fake store about it – and then have the balls to try to sell it to me when I was there! No, he was playing mind games and I had no idea why.
I would need some answers, but felt too vulnerable right now. When I glanced back to Jamie, I forced myself to say, "Who knows where she came from. Maybe I really was imagining things," I said on auto-pilot.
"It's okay, Jos. It happens, you know?" Jamie said with a cocked smile, setting his empty plate on the side table. "Like this one time, I fell and smacked my head into the TV. Not even sure how since I am so graceful and everything. And because of that, I had to re-watch the last two seasons of the show I was on."
His light and relaxed words didn't help. There was so much to think about. Hell, could I even trust Jamie at this point? Maybe he was in on whatever his brother was hiding. I was overwhelmed, confused, and now intimidated. Not scared of them, but... unsure and intimidated.
For how tense I was, I couldn't respond. It made Jamie's smile turn more sweet. "So, do you want some breakfast? There is some of my killer bacon left over. Don't worry, even though I don't live here, I'm the one that made it. I'm the cook of the family," he said smugly, but he was clearly just trying to ease the thick air.
"No, thank you, I-I think I'm good. I just want to go home. Maybe rest and it will clear my head a bit," I sighed, playing along with their nonchalant demeanor.
"Sure. I can take you home," Jamie said with a nod.
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Hey guys! Hope you are enjoying the story! Would really appreciate some feedback. I know it's early so it's hard to get invested (especially when the past few updates have been slow). I have so much excitement for this story though and where it will go so hopefully you enjoy it too!