Craving Redemption
Page 66
“Hey, baby.”
“Callie. How was your last day, sweetheart?” his voice never failed to cause a little dip in my belly.
“It went good! Rhonda seems to fit right in. Damn, I’m glad to be finally out of there.”
“You and me both, Sugar. I hated you working at that place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I snickered, pulling into my apartment’s parking lot. “I’m not there anymore, so quit bitching.”
Whatever he said next was completely lost when I looked toward my building and the noise of my heartbeat started thrumming in my ears.
“Asa, I have to go,” I interrupted, slamming the car in park and fighting to get out of my seatbelt.
“The fuck is wrong, Callie?” he snapped frantically, his end of the line rustling with movement.
“Farrah,” I choked out before stuffing my phone into my pocket and jumping out of the car.
She was sitting awkwardly, halfway up the stairs to my apartment, cradling one arm and staring at me through two swollen black eyes. Her clothes were clean, but her shirt was hanging haphazardly across her chest, with one arm through the sleeve and the other sitting on her shoulder, and yoga pants that she’d sworn she’d never wear out of the house sagging at her skinny waist.
I stumbled toward her, willing myself not to cry as she tried to stand.
“I have my key but I couldn’t get up the stairs,” she lisped brokenly, her split lips tilting a little in a grimacing smile.
“Oh my God, Farrah! Don’t move!’ I snapped, racing to her spot on the stairs as she swayed drunkenly.
When I reached her, I wasn’t sure where to touch her to stabilize her. I threw my arms out around her, grabbing the railing to brace myself in case she started falling toward me.
“Can you make it down if I help you?” I asked her gently, searching her face for the truth. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No hospital.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I screeched, causing her to startle and wince.
“Just get me inside, okay? I need to sit down,” she mumbled back, turning gently until she was facing up the stairs. When she turned, I noticed bruises all over her back and her messy hair caked with dried blood.
Oh God.
I swallowed against the rising need to scream in horror and followed her as she slowly made her way up the stairs, only swaying back against me once before she took another step. She shuffled to my front door slowly, using one arm to brace against the wall as I watched in silence.
I didn’t know what to do.
When we got inside and I’d situated her on the couch, I rushed to the bedroom and called the one person I knew could fix anything.
“Asa?” I gasped, rifling through my toiletries to find first-aid supplies.
“What’s going on, Calliope? Talk to me, Sugar.”
His soothing voice broke a hole in the wall of my emotions and they all came pouring out.
“Farrah,” I sobbed, trying to catch my breath. “She’s—God. Somebody beat the hell out of her!”
“Who?” he thundered, his voice deepening in a way I’d only heard once before on the porch of my grandmother’s house.
“I don’t know!” I sobbed back, still searching in vain for Band-Aids or gauze. “I just got her in the house and called you. She won’t go to the hospital and I don’t know that to do!”
“Callie,” he snapped back, “you need to get your shit together right now. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I gasped, nodding as I wiped my nose on the shoulder of my shirt.
“You don’t need to do shit. Okay?” he told me gently. “You just be there; make sure she’s got anything she needs. Is she bleeding?”
“Her hair has blood in it, but it looks like it’s all scabbed over.” Why the hell was I looking for Band-Aids?
“Okay, that’s good, baby. That’s really good.” He paused for a moment and I heard his breathing stutter as I imagined him running his hand down his face. “I’ll make some calls. You make sure the door is locked and don’t open it for anyone but my boys.”
“Okay. I’ll just—” I walked around my room with no destination, my mind running in a thousand different directions.
“Callie! Go check on your friend and lock the goddamn door.”
“Okay. Doing that now,” I told him calmly, squaring my shoulders before stepping out of the room.
“I’ll call you back. I love you.” He hung up before I could say anything back.
I checked the door first and then went to Farrah, who hadn’t moved an inch.
“I’m not sure how I can help you,” I whispered, kneeling at her feet. “Should I get an icepack?”
“Nah, I’m good,” she told me cockily, her lisp belying the words. “I just need to sleep it off. It’ll be like ten times better tomorrow.”
“Farrah!” I snapped back, frustrated that even when she was sitting on my couch beaten bloody, she still refused to let me in. “I think your arm is fucking broken.”
“Oh,” she seemed bewildered as she gazed down at her arm and then back to my face, her eyes filling with tears for the first time. “Yeah, it might be.”
“Yeah, baby girl,” I told her gently, my own nose tingling with tears. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay.” She looked around the living room as if searching for something, and then her swollen eyes found me again. “What am I gonna do?”
“Callie. How was your last day, sweetheart?” his voice never failed to cause a little dip in my belly.
“It went good! Rhonda seems to fit right in. Damn, I’m glad to be finally out of there.”
“You and me both, Sugar. I hated you working at that place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I snickered, pulling into my apartment’s parking lot. “I’m not there anymore, so quit bitching.”
Whatever he said next was completely lost when I looked toward my building and the noise of my heartbeat started thrumming in my ears.
“Asa, I have to go,” I interrupted, slamming the car in park and fighting to get out of my seatbelt.
“The fuck is wrong, Callie?” he snapped frantically, his end of the line rustling with movement.
“Farrah,” I choked out before stuffing my phone into my pocket and jumping out of the car.
She was sitting awkwardly, halfway up the stairs to my apartment, cradling one arm and staring at me through two swollen black eyes. Her clothes were clean, but her shirt was hanging haphazardly across her chest, with one arm through the sleeve and the other sitting on her shoulder, and yoga pants that she’d sworn she’d never wear out of the house sagging at her skinny waist.
I stumbled toward her, willing myself not to cry as she tried to stand.
“I have my key but I couldn’t get up the stairs,” she lisped brokenly, her split lips tilting a little in a grimacing smile.
“Oh my God, Farrah! Don’t move!’ I snapped, racing to her spot on the stairs as she swayed drunkenly.
When I reached her, I wasn’t sure where to touch her to stabilize her. I threw my arms out around her, grabbing the railing to brace myself in case she started falling toward me.
“Can you make it down if I help you?” I asked her gently, searching her face for the truth. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“No hospital.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I screeched, causing her to startle and wince.
“Just get me inside, okay? I need to sit down,” she mumbled back, turning gently until she was facing up the stairs. When she turned, I noticed bruises all over her back and her messy hair caked with dried blood.
Oh God.
I swallowed against the rising need to scream in horror and followed her as she slowly made her way up the stairs, only swaying back against me once before she took another step. She shuffled to my front door slowly, using one arm to brace against the wall as I watched in silence.
I didn’t know what to do.
When we got inside and I’d situated her on the couch, I rushed to the bedroom and called the one person I knew could fix anything.
“Asa?” I gasped, rifling through my toiletries to find first-aid supplies.
“What’s going on, Calliope? Talk to me, Sugar.”
His soothing voice broke a hole in the wall of my emotions and they all came pouring out.
“Farrah,” I sobbed, trying to catch my breath. “She’s—God. Somebody beat the hell out of her!”
“Who?” he thundered, his voice deepening in a way I’d only heard once before on the porch of my grandmother’s house.
“I don’t know!” I sobbed back, still searching in vain for Band-Aids or gauze. “I just got her in the house and called you. She won’t go to the hospital and I don’t know that to do!”
“Callie,” he snapped back, “you need to get your shit together right now. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I gasped, nodding as I wiped my nose on the shoulder of my shirt.
“You don’t need to do shit. Okay?” he told me gently. “You just be there; make sure she’s got anything she needs. Is she bleeding?”
“Her hair has blood in it, but it looks like it’s all scabbed over.” Why the hell was I looking for Band-Aids?
“Okay, that’s good, baby. That’s really good.” He paused for a moment and I heard his breathing stutter as I imagined him running his hand down his face. “I’ll make some calls. You make sure the door is locked and don’t open it for anyone but my boys.”
“Okay. I’ll just—” I walked around my room with no destination, my mind running in a thousand different directions.
“Callie! Go check on your friend and lock the goddamn door.”
“Okay. Doing that now,” I told him calmly, squaring my shoulders before stepping out of the room.
“I’ll call you back. I love you.” He hung up before I could say anything back.
I checked the door first and then went to Farrah, who hadn’t moved an inch.
“I’m not sure how I can help you,” I whispered, kneeling at her feet. “Should I get an icepack?”
“Nah, I’m good,” she told me cockily, her lisp belying the words. “I just need to sleep it off. It’ll be like ten times better tomorrow.”
“Farrah!” I snapped back, frustrated that even when she was sitting on my couch beaten bloody, she still refused to let me in. “I think your arm is fucking broken.”
“Oh,” she seemed bewildered as she gazed down at her arm and then back to my face, her eyes filling with tears for the first time. “Yeah, it might be.”
“Yeah, baby girl,” I told her gently, my own nose tingling with tears. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Okay.” She looked around the living room as if searching for something, and then her swollen eyes found me again. “What am I gonna do?”
