Page 97 of Justyce
Not waiting for a response, I climb the stairs to the door, balance Kenzi and punch in the code in clumsily. The door clicks, signaling it’s unlocked and I lean down and push down on the handle to open it.
Olga comes dashing down the hallway, her hands flying to her face when she sees Kenzi cradled in my arms. Tears stream down her round face. Olga curses in Croatian, swipes the wetness from her cheeks then leads me up the stairs to my bedroom.
Olga doesn’t question me, no one does. But for some reason I feel like I need to be placed on trial, cross examined, and the book thrown at me for the state Kenzi is in.
I’m operating on autopilot, barely registering when I enter my room and lie her down on my black quilt.
“We’ll be out here if you need us, J,” Raine says. I can hear the melancholy dripping from her words.
Refusing to take my eyes off my Kenzi, I nod and sweep strands of her matted midnight blue hair from her face. Even bruised and battered, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even so, thoughts of what she must have endured surface and so does the guilt. It snakes itself around me, coiling tight, squeezing until I fear I won’t be able to fucking breathe.
Angelite begins fussing, the sounds of zips hissing through the room as she rummages around in her bags for whatever she needs to attend to Kenzi.
Pulling the blanket that I wrapped around her open, I look up to find Angelite’s eyes fill with determination, and sadness. Everything inside me screams for me to tell Angelite where to stick her damn pity and fix my girl. But I won’t do that. Instead, I push my tongue against my teeth and grind down. The taste of blood fills my mouth and a little of the tension leaves my wayward body.
The hands of time tick loudly in my mind even though there is not a clock in sight. Angelite works her magic, cleaning Kenzi with a warm flannel and dressing any laceration or wound that needs it then giving her a shot of antibiotics to prevent infection.
When she stops at her pubic region, I have a fair idea what she’s about to ask before she says anything.
“Justyce, I−I need to check her for any internal sexual injuries. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
I peel my eyes from Kenzi’s face and look into Angelite’s baby blues. “Doc, do what you have to. I’m not leaving her.”
She gives me a brusque nod and begins examining Kenzi’s most sacred areas. I don’t want to witness what those animals potentially did to her but I need to know.
“Did−did they…”
“Rape her?” she finishes for me.
“Yeah.” I let out a heavy breath.
“There’s no indication she’s been raped, no bodily fluid, etcetera, that I can find, except she is a little red down there.”
My blood boils, rising to the surface and prickling my flesh because I know that fuck wit Dereke was the last one to touch her. She interrupts my angry thoughts.
“Her anus, though, there are some small fissures. I don’t think they managed to penetrate her completely.”
Thank Hades for small miracles but it doesn’t alleviate any of my anger. Angelite finishes her assessment, gives me some pain relief for Kenzi and demands I contact her immediately if something should change.
I barely hear the door click closed as she leaves. My eyes are trained on Kenzi when I lift her, pull the bedding aside then lie her down. I tuck the blanket around us and snuggle close to her.
I chuckle quietly to myself. I’m fucking cuddling. I don’t cuddle, yet here I am. My, my, my how things have changed.
Kenzi begins to snore softly and I dare say she’ll sleep for a while. After all, her body needs to repair itself.
My mind takes off on a clusterfuck of a merry go round. My arms tighten around Kenzi at the mere thought that I could have lost her today.
I’m fucking exhausted, both mentally and physically, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this tired. I want to stay awake and plot my father’s demise, his punishment, but with Kenzi’s sweet snores and her nestled nice and close, I finally cave. I give in, subjugating myself to the Sandman’s wrath.
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Justyce
I jolt upward, an ear shattering scream perforating my heart and lungs in the process.Kenzi. I lunge upward, searching frantically for my broken girl only to find her cowering in the corner of my room, wedged between my chest of draws and the door to my walk-in closet.
Her face is wet from crying. The split in her lip had reopened and blood careens down her chin in small rivulets.
Fury gurgles, flowing to the surface of my hot skin at seeing Kenzi frightened − broken. It takes every ounce of restraint and composure to keep my feet rooted in place and not flee the room and find my father.
He deserves to suffer, to live out his fucked up life rotting away, slowly sinking in the quicksand of fucking death. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I force them to relax and draw my hands up toward my chest, my hands facing Kenzi in a show of surrender.
