Kendall Ryan - Resisting Her

Their eyes flashed to one another’s at the sounds of an argument going on in the next room. Angry voices carried through the thin walls. Another argument. Cole and Savannah exchanged glances.

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

She nodded, looking solemn.

‘Here’s my card.’ He fished the card from his wallet and placed it in her trembling hand. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

Savannah remained silent, glancing at the card, running her thumb along the raised lettering.

‘Lock your door when I leave, okay?’

She nodded tightly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, as if there was something more she wanted to say, but stopped herself.

Cole left reluctantly He knew it was getting late, and as much as it pained him to leave her, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He was sure he was crossing some sort of professional line even being here. He waited outside the door until he heard the lock slide into place, the sound not nearly as reassuring as he would have hoped.

Once he was outside, Cole took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands across his face. The cooling blast of autumn air filled his lungs, but did nothing to return him to his senses. He climbed inside his truck and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, trying to will himself to start the engine and drive away from her.

The lock on her door did little to calm her nerves. The deep, raspy voices of her male neighbors sent shivers down her spine. She huddled in closer to the thin, scratchy blanket.

The unfamiliar sounds and smells of the house left her on edge and shaking. The brief interlude with Cole had helped, but now that she was back in the bleak reality of the tiny room again, an impending panic attack throbbed in her chest.

Growing up the way she had, listening to Jacob’s crazy rants about sex being dirty and diseased, and men of the world being fueled by only their lust, made her hyper-aware of the sounds in the rooms next to her. Their loud voices, crude glances, and grubby hands. Jacob constantly drilled into her that men would only want her for one thing.

Realization struck. She was alone. Totally and completely alone. Panic crept in to the edges of her brain, but she fought it, holding the darkness at bay. Just barely. Think Savannah . If she could go on after losing her mom, she could survive this, too. Didn’t have much choice.

Her muscles trembled with the effort of lying still against the hard cot. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, hoping it would sooth her. A loud whack against the wall made her jump. Savannah sat up in bed as the pain in her chest built. She drew a slow shaky breath and said a silent prayer. She tried not to break down again, but before she knew it, hot tears were freely streaming down her cheeks and she was wishing that Cole hadn’t left. The only times she’d felt safe during the past week of this ordeal was when he was near.

She grabbed his card from the window sill and clutched it, crushing it to her heart. She wished she was stronger, that she didn’t break down so easily. But after another loud thump against the wall, she let out a whimper and clamored under the blankets. She glanced at the door knob, the deadbolt still vertical, needing reassurance that the door was still locked.

She didn’t want to leave the safety of her bedroom—and wouldn’t have—had it not been for her insistent bladder urging her on. There were two bathrooms on the second floor, one was for women, the other for men. She’d come to learn over the past few days, tenants used whichever was closest, and since she had the bad fortune of being surrounded on both sides by male tenants, she knew the so-called ladies room was filthy and reeked of urine. The other bathroom was probably no better.

Still clutching Cole’s card, Savannah cracked open the door and peeked both ways before tiptoeing towards the bathroom.

She made sure the toilet seat was clean before she relieved herself. As she stood washing her hands in the sink, she startled at the pale haunted-looking girl watching her from the mirror before realizing it was her own reflection.

The bulb above her flickered then died. Darkness made her head swim. She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her hands fumbled blindly in front of her, searching out the door. She’d hated the dark. Always had. Her hands still flailing in front of her, she begged herself not to panic.

Savannah swayed on her feet, blinking wildly against the darkness. Before she knew what was happening, she crashed against the wall, and felt a sharp blow ache through the back of her skull as she collapsed to the ground.

Cole pulled into his underground parking garage just as the storm lit up the sky. An angry crack of lightning pierced the night, followed by a low rumble of thunder. It had been steadily raining his entire drive home, but the storm seemed to double its force within a matter of seconds, sheets of water pouring from the sky.

He was maneuvering into his assigned parking space when the call came in. His phone had been eerily silent all weekend, not even Marissa had been in touch. And at this late hour on Sunday, he didn’t know who it could be. Fishing the phone from his center console, he noted the Dallas area code, but didn’t recognize the number.

He couldn’t understand her at first, her voice was high with tension, and barely above a whisper, but he soon realized it was Savannah. And she was asking him to come back. He pulled a u-turn and gunned the engine before her words even registered.

Keeping her on the line as he drove, he wanted to bombard her with questions, to find out if something had happened, but he resisted. Even as all that flashed through his mind, he’d found himself calming her, saying he would be right there, and flooring the gas pedal to get back to her. After ending the call, he slammed a fist against the dash. Damn, he shouldn’t have left her at that place. But what choice did he have?

He thumbed the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. He had to get her out of that house; probably check her into a hotel for the night. That would be the right thing to do, yet he knew with absolute certainty what he really wanted to do. He wanted to bring her home with him, where he could have her under the same roof and ensure she was safe.

When Cole arrived, he pressed the buzzer at the front door for the after-hours entrance. He was greeted by an older man, the night guard, he presumed.

‘Where’s Savannah?’ He stormed past the man, following the sounds of soft sobs toward the back of the house. Entering an office, he found an older woman seated behind a desk, and Savannah crumpled in a ball on the chair across from her. ‘Savannah,’ his voice rasped.

She looked up and Cole nearly staggered a step back. Christ. It looked like someone had used her face as a punching bag. Her swollen and busted lip was encrusted with blood and her left eye was already darkening with a bruise. When she met his eyes she let out a soft sigh, seemingly comforted by his presence.

‘Shh. I’m here.’ He weaved his fingers under her hair to cradle the back of her neck. Then he turned his attention to the woman behind the desk. ‘What the hell happened here?’

‘Have a seat, Mr.….?’

‘Cole Fletcher.’ He took the chair next to Savannah.

She crawled into his lap, burying her face in his neck as little sobs racked her chest. His arms, working of their own accord, wound themselves around Savannah and shifted her to a more comfortable position on his lap.

Once Savannah was settled, his training kicked in and he began firing questions at the facility coordinator. She explained they’d briefly lost power in the storm, and when they went upstairs to check and make sure everyone was secure, they found Savannah unconscious on the bathroom floor, where she’d apparently fainted and smacked her head on the porcelain sink on her way down. His fingers automatically threaded into her hair, smoothing the bump he found on the back of her head.