Chapter Nine: Consequences Part. 2
(Lauren's POV)
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"How good to see you Doctor." He snarls, leaning up as he grabs my jaw and slams my head down against the floor three-four times. "How's that feel?" He pushes off me, bringing himself to his feet.
I want to get up-I have every intention of getting up.
I can't though.
The sting of the blood in my eye, the odd ringing in my ears, the now throbbing in the back of my head, along with the slam to the floor all proving to be too much.
"How," The heel of his foot pressing down against the side of my right knee. "Does," Harder. "That," Harder. "Feel?"
"It hurts!" It's a yell stifled by a sob, tears slipping from my eyes as I try to roll onto my side.
"Oh I'm sorry." He laughs, taking his foot from my knee which allows me to finally roll onto my side. "How about this?" His question followed by a halfhearted kick to my back, earning a groan of pain from myself. "Where's the fight now?" Reaching down, he pulls me up by the arm, throwing me back onto the bed. "What I can't understand is why go after him? He wasn't the one who put a bullet in your old man. He didn't touch you."
I push across the bed the best I can, images of the night in the bar coming back. The look Taylor has in his eyes now looking down at me, the same exact one his brother had when he threw me on the table.
Could I have been wrong about him?
I had thought he was a decent kid sucked into a world which guided him into delinquency. I had expected him to be a better man than his brother.
Would he move from simple aggravated battery to aggravated sexual battery?
Would that line be crossed just to prove a point? Just to show me the same lack of respect he thinks I showed his beloved brother?
He grabs me by my ankles, pulling me down the bed to him. Hands gripping the sheets, but all it does it pull them with me. I can see now what Andre meant about him being more than expected.
"They say he was alive when you started cutting pieces off of him." He slaps at my hands as I reach up trying to push him back. "You couldn't just kill him?" His hand manages to grab both of mine, his free one coming down open palm on my face.
The sing spreading across my cheek hushed by the realization, even dormant he's is still between my legs.
I can't get to the knife.
Well I could, but it just wouldn't be usable. Unless he would be kind enough to wait while I unwrapped it.
"You're just as sick as Jason." He growls trying to push my hands above my head, but my constant struggle becoming too much for his single hand hold. "My brother was a woman abusing, junkie, prick who I knew would be taken out one day." His words becoming breathy, continuing to struggle with me. "But NOT like that!"
The spike in his voice coming as his right knee moves onto the bed, leaning over me trying to pin my hands down.
Wrong move.
With the majority of his weight shifted to the right it allows me to hike my left leg back. With as much strength as I could possibly manage, I bring my foot into his stomach.
It sends him falling back toward to the right as I hopped, crashing into the nightstand on his way down to the floor.
Quickly I push myself off the bed, only to fall to the floor as my foot gets caught in the disarrayed sheet. A surge of pain spreading from my knees up into my thighs.
Can't stop.
Pushing myself I run from the room, down the short hall. Hand on the railing as I trying to keep my balance down the stairs.
It doesn't help though.
There's a sudden blow to my lower back and for a moment it doesn't register.
It doesn't even register what's happened as I find myself tumbling down the stairs.
Not even when I find my head slamming against the floor forcing me to a halt.
It's only when I look over to my right and see Taylor sprawled out on his belly, eyes closed and blood covering his face that I realize I just was thrown down the stairs.
I can't move.
It's a lie, I'm moving in a trembling sort of way. Pain radiating from every single inch of my body. Though the tears streaming from my eyes on their own volition seem to be clearing my vision-in a way.
I gasp struggling to breathe, a false sense of security coming over me.
Then I hear it.
The odd and somewhat disturbing sound of flesh sliding across marble flooring. The sound of a groan following.
I roll onto my side away from him, hand reaching out to try and push myself up. His hands already on my side pulling me onto my back. He throws his torso half onto mine to keep me in place.
He's hurt.
He mumbles something, blood spilling from his mouth onto me. The dead look in his eyes still very present, but there is something surfacing.
Fear.
Using my still mobile hand I reach over myself, closing my eyes and press my thumb against his left eye.
A yell of agony filling the loft, a jolt of pain strong enough to get him up to his knees as he jerks back.
Wasting no time, a new wave of adrenaline surging through me. I roll onto my stomach, using my feet to push me up the floor, desperately needing distance between him and myself.
My fingertips meet the rim of the area rug, palms pressing against the floor as I push myself up.
A newly familiar pressure to my lower back sending me stumbling into the arm of the couch-the only thing that keeps me from falling back to the floor.
Managing to spin around in his clumsy hold, I push at his face-his hands clawing at my shoulders trying to get a decent hold.
Our feet equally as clumsy as we stumble back and forth.
Stopping only when I feel the ledge of the coffee table cut into the back of my knees.
At first all I can think of it the new rush of pain, then why am I think about this while struggling with someone trying to kill me.
Then it dawns on me-the table is glass.
Grabbing the back of his neck as hard as I can, I throw my weight not only back, but to the left. I burry my face against his chest as we go crashing down, through the once thought to be thick glass.
"Fuck!" I can't help but to cry out through a new wave of tears, a shard cutting effortlessly through my leg.
Gasping once again for breath, I look over at him, this odd mixture of relief and guilt spreading rapidly deep within my chest. His dead eyes staring into mine, but this time they're not cold-just empty. His boyish features stained in his own blood. A large shard of glass protruding from his throat.
I may not have been the one to kill his brother, but him I am responsible for. Oddly this time, the longer I stare at him, the guilt doesn't lessen. I looked at his brother and what little guilt was stripped away piece by piece, but now-it's different.
"CPD!" A bellowing voice calls out a mere second after I hear the sound of wood cracking. I can't see them, the couch in the way, but I do see the light filling the otherwise dark loft as it flows in from the hall.
"Here." I announce weakly, trying to raise my right arm.
Keyword: Trying.
"Bo." I say her name to myself, a faint whisper with an equally faint smile as I feel my eyes close.
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Saint Mark's Hospital, Room 326—10:23 p.m.
"Black Widow would be a fitting nickname, if you're ever looking for one."
"Thank you." I smile softly, ignoring her smart-ass comment.
"For thinking up a nickname?" She smirks and gives this little shrug.
"For saving me."
"They said you might be a little fuzzy, it wasn't me who came to your rescue."
"You sent them." I smile weakly, the mixture of a sedative and natural depletion having an interesting effect. It's hard to even keep my eyes open.
There's so much I want to say, so much I need to say rather, but I just watch her. She makes quips, but I know she's worried. I must admit, it brings a strange sense of pleasure to see her this distraught over my wellbeing. I'm sure there's a nice way to say that, but hell, it's not like she can hear me.
She leans against the door, just watching me and the floor.
"Where's your partner? I was expecting a slew of questions. Possibly even another polygraph."
"He'll be around, by which time you will be sound asleep." She chuckles, eyes holding mine for a mere moment. "I had to cash in a lot of favors for this."
"Paperwork duty?"
"Among other things, more like personal things."
"Personal?" My eyebrow raises, eyelids becoming just a little heavier.
"Yeah, like doing the dishes and allowing him remote privileges. Things that come in handy more than paperwork."
"Oh good, for a minute I thought I had competition."
"What are they giving you Doctor Lewis?" She laughs, shaking her head at me. It's such a sweet sound.
"Quite a bit actually, perks of being a doctor. They are real generous with the doses." I laugh to myself, a dull surge of pain spreading through my chest. "Relax officer, it's just a joke. Hate to have a drug charge of some kind added to my pending murder charges." I smirk, earning the cutest inquisitive look from her. "Might sully my good name."
"Oh my God," She can't help but to roll her eyes as she shakes her head, laughing at my comment. "You are so drugged."
"I plead the fifth."
"Law major now?"
"Oh yeah, I have many hidden talents."
"Ooh, very sneaky."
"You have no idea, I'm like a ninja."
"Ninja? Wow." She tries not hold in her laughter. "If getting you a little drugged was all it took to get you to loosen up, I would have done it sooner."
"Careful Detective, I might misconstrued the excessive smiling and laughter as a sign of affection."
"There are quite a few signs of affection Lauren, generally you're just a little too busy foaming at the mouth to notice."
"Hm, that doesn't sound like me."
"Oh no?" Her brow rises, as she cautiously walks over to my bedside. "Must be some other gorgeous and brilliant blonde, doctor I know."
"Know many of us, do you?" I try to scowl, but by the way she smiles gently and brushes hair from my face I know I've failed.
"Sleep."
"I'm not ready to say goodbye."
"It's not goodbye," She lightly runs her thumb over my cheek before pulling her hand away. "It's goodnight."
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Monday
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Outside—Lauren's Apartment Building—4:27 p.m.
"I really wish you'd stay in a hotel-or come spend the night with me."
"I don't think I'm up for the rigorous activity yet," I turn to face her, smirk on my lips. "You're pretty rowdy and I'd hate to rip a stich."
"Very nice Doctor, trying to lure me away from the matter at hand."
"Is it working?"
"Not quite, but points for effort."
"Points, hm?" I can't help how my eyebrow rises in curiosity. "Just for arguments sake, how many points?"
"How many?" She chuckles at me. "I don't know, um-two hundred."
"Really? That's it? I think the effort was at least worthy of-five."
"Greedy tiny thing you are."
"Very."
"Again, I repeat nice try." She smiles softly, reaching out and covering my hand with her own. "I'm serious. Just yesterday they declared this not a crime scene."
"It's my home Bo," I turn my hand within hers, fingers effortless intertwining. "Taylor is dead, it's over." I smile softly, idly running my thumb over the top of her hand. "I for once feel confident in saying that. I'm not in danger anymore, no one I care about is either. Now, this thing with Bryan, I'll just have to see how it plays out."
"This is a very new you."
"Yes, I really want to move on from this Bo."
"Oh." She nods, eyes moving down to our hands.
"I would like moving on from this to include us possibly spending time together, when not conspiring how to keep me out of jail."
"Really?" She looks up, smile transitioning into a smirk. "I wasn't aware we could have a conversation without conspiring."
"It might be hard, but I'm optimistic."
"Optimistic Lauren? How-unique." Another laugh fills the air, and I know it's that time for me to get out and head upstairs, but there's that awkward tension of, 'should we kiss goodbye or hug-or do nothing at all'.
"I'm experimenting."
"Ah, I see." This devilish smirk plays over her lips and I can't help but to laugh.
"Well I didn't do much in college so have to get it in somehow."
"I'll text you my address, just in case."
"Yeah, just in case." I smile, eyes dancing over her face as I lean in just a bit to see if she'll go for it.
"Call me cautious." Returning the smile, she mimics my actions, but refuses to close the distance.
"Okay." It wasn't the cleverest of responses, but I don't think she cares much as I close the distance.
Lips lightly covering hers, it's gentle and chaste.
Something somewhat innocent to mark the start of something new for us.
I pull away, and step out of the car without saying another word. She's giving me this adorably cute smile. This I'm not quite sure what's happening look and all I do to reassure her is smile, before closing her door and walking into the building, heading right to the elevator.
I can't lie, I'm still-something over Taylor. I'm still beyond worried about Evony, and the fact she still hasn't woken. I'm still far from okay, with a lot of bridges to mend with Andre and Karina, but just something since the other night has felt different. Similar to a weight off my chest.
There's nothing I can do about Jason Wallace, I know that. All I can do is hope that what goes around, really does come back around. I'll never forgive him, never forget it, but I think I've come to the realization that I'm not the type of person to sit around trying to figure out how I can kill him for it.
There's nothing I can do about what happened with Bryan, it happened and the chips will fall where they do. Whether we'll ever know who used him as a sick form of enjoyment, I don't know. All I know is it wasn't me, and the fact that I think Bo believes that is enough.
I look up at the ding, watching to doors separate.
Stepping out of the elevator I start toward my apartment, looking down in my bag searching for my phone. I can't believe I forgot to tell Andre to bring Chinese. I've had such a craving and when he asked me what I wanted, it completely slipped my mind.
"Looking for something?"
I look up at his voice, my once unwavering smile vanishing.
"Dyson." His name passing my lips, leaving a sick taste coating my mouth.