Between Us and These Bones

36

My eyes fluttered a dozen times as I slowly came to, waves of pain ebbed and flowed across my back, a cruel reminder of Wayne's malicious wrath. The symphony of agony played a sinister tune across the canvas of scars that now adorned my skin.

As my eyes flickered open wide, the sterile white of the hospital room was an intrusive glare against the veil of darkness that I had been enveloped in. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was a stark contrast to the haunting cries that still echoed in the chambers of my memory.

The room felt like a surreal bubble, the calm a bizarre antithesis to the storm of terror that had raged just hours before. The crisp sheets against my battered skin felt like a tender caress, a soothing balm on the open wounds that Wayne's belt had carved.

My gaze landed on Carson, his figure a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of my thoughts. His eyes were closed, yet the lines on his forehead bore the weight of worry that had gripped him. The soft rise and fall of his chest was a comforting rhythm, a silent ode to the bond that tethered us amidst the chaos that life had thrown our way.

"Carson." I tried, but my voice cracked, low from dryness. His presence was a gentle reassurance, a quiet promise of protection that had momentarily been stolen away in the clutches of Wayne's malevolent grasp. As if sensing my gaze, Carson stirred, his eyes slowly opening to meet mine. The depth of relief that shone in them was a warm glow, cutting through the cold dread that still clung to my soul.

His hand found mine, a tender grip that seemed to pull me further away from the haunting shadows of the past. "Tarryn, you're safe now. We're here, you're not alone," he murmured, each word a gentle balm on the raw scars that marred not just my body, but the essence of my being.

"Wh—what happened to... to m—mom? Haisley? Wh—where are they?" I tried to hoist myself up, but pain scorched my back. Carson lunged forward, his hands wrapping around my trembling ones.

Carson's grip was a tender restraint, a silent plea to conserve my strength. His face was a canvas of emotions, each wrinkle a stroke of concern, love, and a lingering shadow of dread. His eyes bore into mine, the calm before the storm of truths that were about to unfold.

"Take it easy, Tarryn. You've been through a lot. You need to rest," his voice trembled on the edge of composure, a hint of the tumultuous journey the night had been for him as well.

The silence that hung between the words was a heavy veil, under which lay the torrent of fears, hopes, and the desperate need for assurance that Haisley and our mother were safe.

Carson seemed to gather his thoughts, his eyes searching the depths of mine for a strength he hoped I had preserved through the ordeal. With a deep breath, he began to unravel the tale of how the night had unfolded after the veil of unconsciousness had claimed me.

Then I sudden got an onslaught of flashbacks. Images were like a tsunami of bad thoughts and bloody and gore, my mind taking me back to the moments when ... when they whipped me.

My body convulsed with agonizing pain as each lash of the whip tore through my flesh. The searing sensation radiated outward, a fiery storm consuming every nerve and sinew. It felt as if the very essence of my being was being torn asunder, each strike a cruel reminder of my helplessness.

The room, once a place of torment and dread, became a dark chamber of suffering. The air was thick with my muffled cries, the sound of leather meeting flesh, and the sickening satisfaction in Wayne's eyes. Each blow was etched into my memory, a cruel brand of cruelty that I could never erase.