Reaper's Property(16)

Home. I’d made it.
“Who did this?” Horse asked, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. He sat next to me on the bed, eyes dead and face blank. I didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t handle the reality of him seeing me like this. I closed my eyes, blocking out his face.
“Gary,” I muttered. “My husband. I went to get my stuff. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“You need a doctor,” he stated. “You call the cops?”
I shook my head against the pillow.
“No, and I don’t want to talk to anyone about it,” I muttered. “Nobody. I’m not going to the ER, he didn’t break anything. I’m just beat up, nothing serious.”
Horse didn’t say anything for a minute.
“I gotta ask, babe. Did he rape you?”
Fuck. A harsh, short bark of near-hysterical laughter burst out of my mouth. I hadn’t even thought of that—guess it could have been a lot worse. Thanks for that, Gary. Thanks for not raping me, douchebag.
“No.”
“Babe. Look me in the eyes and answer the question.”
I opened my eyes to find him leaning over me, his face filled with terrible tension and a horrible, burning anger I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t have the energy to manage my own emotions, let alone worry about his.
“No, he didn’t rape me,” I said shortly, then closed my eyes again, letting myself drift away from the pain. After a time I heard footsteps enter the room, heard the low rumble of Picnic’s voice, but I couldn’t make out the words at first. He repeated them, coming closer.
“Any witnesses?” Picnic asked. I ignored him.
“Babe, we need to know if there were any witnesses,” Horse said, his voice insistent. “Anyone see what he did to you? Have you told anyone at all?”
“Um, Misty,” I whispered after a pause. “Misty found me. She helped me get into my car. She wanted to call the cops but I wouldn’t let her.”
“Who’s Misty?” Horse asked.
“Gary’s new girlfriend,” I replied, reaching up to explore my split lip gingerly. Even talking hurt. “I actually kind of like her. She packed her stuff and took off. Not as stupid as me, got out quick.”
“You feel like a ride?” Horse asked Picnic.
“Sounds about right,” he replied.
“Let me get her cleaned up, make sure she doesn’t need a doctor first.”
That worked for me.
I drifted in and out after that. Cool water dabbed my face. Horse stuck some pills in my mouth and then held up a cup of water for me to swallow. Jeff sat next to me, holding my hand as the pain faded completely. Good pills, I mused. Definitely not Tylenol. Bikes roared and then I drifted away. When morning came Jeff called in to work, told them I’d been in an accident and would probably need several days off. He tried to get me to eat some breakfast but I couldn’t handle the thought of food. I decided to just lie in bed feeling sorry for myself. Around ten I heard the rumble of bikes again, but this time the whole crew didn’t come inside, just Horse. He walked in and sat next to me on the bed without saying anything.
“I’m pretty tired,” I said, refusing to look at him. I felt so stupid, so embarrassed. I knew Gary could get violent. They warned me at the Women’s Center not to go back by myself, but I’d felt so silly being afraid to visit my own house. “I think you should go.”
Horse stroked a finger along my collarbone, one of the only visible places on my body without ugly purple bruises.
“He’s not going to hurt you again,” he said.
“It’s not your problem, Horse,” I replied. I didn’t want to talk to him. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep, forget for a little while about what had happened.
“It’s not your problem anymore either.”
Something in his voice caught my attention, so I forced myself to look up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and the muscles in his unshaven jaw clenched. He lifted my hand and kissed it very softly. That’s when I saw his knuckles.
They were completely torn up, crusted over with blood.
He followed my gaze, shaking his head slowly, offering me a strange, sad little smile.
“Don’t ask the question unless you want to hear the answer,” he said. “I’ve gotta go, we’re on a long run. California. If anyone asks, you were in a car accident, okay? Don’t go into it any further than that, as soon as you give out too much information or complicate a lie, it’s harder to keep up with it.”
I nodded, closing my eyes again.
I didn’t even consider asking how he hurt his knuckles.


Chapter Six

The Reapers passed through again a week later, heading back home. By then I was up and moving, although I still hadn’t gone back to work. Denise had come out to visit me—armed with chicken noodle soup and a basket of fresh veggies, including about twenty pounds of zucchini—and declared that I couldn’t watch kids looking like a punching bag. I’d scare them. She promised to hold my job for me though, which I appreciated greatly, and even offered to give me overtime once I was presentable again to make up for the lost income. Her kindness made me cry.
Now I sat outside the trailer in a camp chair, reading an old romance of my mom’s and listening to the roar of a bike coming down our driveway.
Horse.
The others weren’t with him, and I didn’t know what to say as he walked over to me. I still felt stupid and self-conscious. Not only had he seen me at my lowest, but I still looked like hell. Thankfully I’d been right in my initial assessment of the damage—nothing broken, nothing permanent.