Limitless Love (Lotus House #4)(75)

He had his cellphone to his ear, calling the detectives on our case.

“Yeah, Berkeley Inn, room twelve. Says she’s wounded bad. And uh, she told her sister she’d been violated. Yeah, okay, we’ll meet you there.”

“Help is on the way, Matisse. We’re sending detectives right now, and they’re sending in paramedics. We’re going to meet you at the hospital.”

“It hurts…Monet.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to get you help and I’ll be there for you. I’ll be there.” All the times we weren’t there for one another rushed to the surface, my sisterly desire raging strong.

“Stay on the phone with me. Please.”

“Of course, honey,” I cooed, even though my heart was unraveling with every word.

Another ten minutes of me whispering to her and finally I could hear the police knocking on the door. “That will be the help we sent. Go open it.”

“Can’t. Too painful to move,” she whispered, her voice getting weaker.

“She can’t open the door,” I told Clay.

“Break it down,” he uttered into his cell phone.

I heard what sounded like wood shattering and metal bending and then a variety of voices tending to Matisse.

“See you soon,” I said.

She didn’t answer.

“Let’s go. We’ll have Mila meet us at the hospital to pick up Lily,” Clayton muttered, coats already in hand.

I just followed along with whatever he said. All I could think of was my sister as a child and her growing up into a lovely woman. Talking about boys while we watched silly chick flicks. Her big, cheery smile. And then her words over and over.

He hurt me.

Left me for dead.

He raped me.



* * *



The hospital was a madhouse, but we were able to meet up with Detectives Richardson and Bolinsky in the emergency room.

“Where is she?”

“Seeing the doctor,” the taller detective replied.

“I need to go to her now.”

One of the detectives led me to a private room and knocked on the door. A nurse opened it a few inches, her eyes turning hard.

“We need privacy.”

“Victim’s sister is here.”

Victim. Again with that word. Couldn’t they use survivor? Sounded more appropriate than victim.

“Your sister’s here. Do you want to let her in?” The nurse spoke to someone behind her. I couldn’t hear the reply, but she opened the door enough for me to slip inside.

On the other side of the room was my sister. Her black hair, so much like mine, was a disheveled mop around her sullen face. She’d lost a lot of weight since I’d last seen her. She couldn’t have been more than a size two, if not a zero. Heavy bandages lined both her arms. Bruises were visible on her biceps and around her neck. Her lip was split and a dot of dried blood clung to the edge.

I went to her and wrapped my arms around her small frame. She folded her thin arms around me and clung to me like her life depended on it.

“Miss, you’re going to have to stand back while I do the exam. It will only be a few more minutes. You can hold her hand if you’d like.”

I nodded and held Matisse’s hand. Hers was cold and frail. The nurse was efficient, and I watched while Matisse stared at the ceiling and tears fell down each side of her face. Anger simmered heavy in my veins, wanting an outlet, but I couldn’t go there. I had to be strong for her. Regardless of what my sister had done and how she’d betrayed me, she was still my sister, and I loved her. Warts and all. And she’d been beaten and violated. No one deserved that.

Not being able to stop myself, I ran my hand through her hair and over her forehead, trying to calm her. She nuzzled into my palm, reminding me of better times when we were sisters who loved each other and told one another everything, not sworn enemies because of a manipulative psycho.

When the nurse finished, I stayed while she gave her statement to the detective. Clayton stood like a sentry in the back of the room, arms crossed, stance wide and imposing, not saying a word.

“After he strangled you, then what happened?” Detective Richardson asked.

My sister swallowed and dipped her head down. “He pinned me to the bed and pulled out his knife. About this big.” She held her fingers out, indicating several inches in length. Probably the same knife he cut me with, I thought but didn’t share.

“Then he said he was going to play with me the way he played with my sister.” Her gaze lifted to mine and she choked back a sob. “He cut one arm and then the next. He’d stuffed a pair of socks in my mouth so no one would hear me scream.”

I ran my hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her the only way I knew how. When she was a little girl and scared of her new family, this was what I’d done to settle her when the nightmares came.

“Continue. We’ll get through this in one shot, ma’am,” Detective Bolinsky urged.

She nodded, and I held her hand.

The detective wrote down everything she said, including the details of her rape, into his notepad. “And where can we reach you if we need to follow up with you?”

Her eyes widened and more tears fell. “He stole my purse. He knows where I live. He’ll come back. He’ll kill me for sure!” Her voice rose and fell until the emotional turmoil took her over in heaping, wracking sobs. She turned in toward my body, and I held her while she cried.