Page 72 of Broken Melody
“Not again,” I chant as I hold her. As she lies broken and beaten in my arms, I feel impotent, worthless. I wasn’t there when Miranda was hurt, and that was…awful…but this…this is… I choke on the fear. “Not again,” I say as I wait for the ambulance to arrive holding her broken unconscious body in my arms. “No, please no,” I plead as I feel the hands of my brothers’ against my back in silent support. “Please don’t take her,” I whisper over and over on the ride to the hospital refusing to let go of her hand. “Please come back to me,” I beg as they wheel her away and I have no choice but to sit defeated in the waiting room as we keep an eye for a doctor to come in bearing news.
“Who the hell was that guy?” Henley asks no one in particular, just voicing his question out loud.
“How did he get in there with her?” Rocco wonders.
“She looked bad. It was bad. Is she going to be okay?” Nixon asks while Jace is on the phone demanding, “I want to know how he got into her dressing room and I want to fucking know right now.”
They are all questions the guys ask over and over in different ways until I can’t take it anymore, “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up! We should be praying, not asking questions. Did you see her?” I look at them, my eyes falling on each one. “Did you see the bruises from where he-?”
I cry. I rise to stand, but immediately turn and fall to my knees and begin to pray. I don’t know when the last time is that I’ve had a conversation with God, but I beg Him to listen to me now. I ask Him to be with her, to ease her pain where he can, and I plead even though I know I shouldn’t – I plead with Him to not take her from me too. I hate myself for not being there. I beg God to allow me to trade places with her. When I’m finished, I turn and sit once more, wiping my face with my hands.
I can feel all of the guys watching me, and I know they have questions. It’s as if I can see their list of inquiries on the tip of their tongues, but they hold it in for now. Instead, they rally around me, and we all support each other as we wait for answers about the woman that has become more than a friend. A sister to them, the woman I love, to me.
Two days later, I’m still sitting by her side, waiting for her to wake up. The two days have felt excruciatingly long. Two days since I’ve seen her smile, the light shine in her eyes, heard her voice. Two days since I wondered what was keeping her so long and went to check on her. Figuring she used the restroom in her dressing room, I determined to steal a minute or two to put my lips on hers before walking her back to the meet and greet. When I found her dressing room locked, I was confused initially, and then I heard strange smacking noise on the other side of the door. I started calling her name, then yelling it. The guys raced down the hall wondering what was wrong and together we beat down the door, and found her…found her…
Frustratingly, my eyes fill with tears every time I think about it. When I remember how she looked, on the floor, beaten and bloody, her clothing ripped to shreds and a strange man on top of her. If I had been just seconds or a minute later… just seconds…he would have hurt her in a way that I fear she wouldn’t have had a chance…
I wanted to rip him to shreds. To feel the satisfaction of my fist hitting his face over and over again, but my first priority was her. The guys, they took care of him, wrestled him to the ground and detained him until the police could arrive. I never laid a hand on him other than to push him off of her, and then my whole world only became about her.
For the last two days, Nixon, Henley and Rocco have been in and out, but right now, we’re all here together. We’ve been watching and waiting, talking quietly occasionally, but mostly we’re ever vigilant, watchful and protective.
“How long?” Rocco asks his voice sounding like a bomb in the quiet room other than the beep of the machines tracking Sailor’s vitals.
“What?” I ask.
“How long have you guys been together?” he clarifies and I nod surprised it took one of them this long to ask.
“A while,” I admit. “Since the time she didn’t show up to practice that one day.”
“What the fuck, Maddox? What are you doing? She’s not just some slutty chick whose feelings you can play with,” Henley says protectively.
“That’s not-” I begin.
“He’s right, Maddox,” Rocco says. “This doesn’t just involve you. We all… we all have come to care for her.”
“She’s family,” Nixon says. “She’s come to be family to all of us, but you guys must be blind.”
“What do you mean?” Henley asks defensively.
“He’s not screwing around,” Nixon says confidently. “He’s in love with her. Surely you didn’t think his reaction was like that simply because she’s some fling. Come on.”
They all look at me, and I meet each of their gazes. Rocco and Henley both hang their heads feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry,” Rocco says. “It’s just-”
I cut him off, “I love her,” I say quietly and then louder. “I love her. I’m not just playing with her feelings. She’s my family too – she’s become my home. I’m in love with her.”
Rocco and Henley stare at me in shock. Nixon smirks, “Told you. Hell, I knew weeks ago that the only routine they were putting on was for us not to know the truth. Do you really think the way they looked at each other on stage was all an act?”
“I didn’t realize it was love,” Rocco says in surprise. “I feel really foolish.”
“Does she feel the same way?” Henley questions.
“She does. She told me she loves me too, the night of the concert…before…”
“I do love you,” she says and all of us stand up in shock at hearing her voice. It sounds small in the room, but has quite the impact. I go to her bedside and hold her hand, brush the side of her face, smile down at her, “Sailor,” I breathe, feeling happiness at seeing her awake, at feeling her eyes on me.
She attempts to smile at me, then at all the guys. “Why do you all look so upset that I love Maddox? We were going to tell you when you were less likely to kill us,” she tries to joke, but none of us are able to laugh. She sighs and reaches a hand up to touch her very swollen and bruised face. “You all look so sad and concerned. Lay it on me. How bad is it?” she asks.
“Your face is black and blue, you have stitches in your scalp where your head hit the table as you fell. There are multiple contusions, a concussion, two bruised ribs, your shoulder was dislocated, and you had a laceration of your liver that required repair, but otherwise, you’re good to go.”
