Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 105398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I knew it was bad without even looking at it. With the amount of years, I served in the military I knew that that much blood was only produced by something that was more significant than just a scratch. What I think happened was the POS cut the shirt off her with a knife, and didn’t care if he was slicing her skin along with the shirt.
A short time later the medics got her patched enough to get to the hospital, and once again, I tried to let her go, but she was having none of it. Instead, I walked over to the bus, and took a seat on the bench, all the while holding onto her tightly.
Max and Sam were at the police barrier being held back by a rookie cop who refused to let them come to us. I nodded to them, letting them know without words that Ember was okay, and that I was going with her; they both nodded back to me. Max wore an expression that could only be described as devastation, as if his heart was being ripped slowly from his chest. He said he loved Ember, but she was beyond knowing it was her brother, so they left shortly after to speak more in depth with the police.
Ω
We arrived at Free two hours later.
Ember received a thorough examination, but never once let go of me. She had fifty-seven stitches put into her back when her attacker cut through the back of her shirt. The cut started at the base of her neck, and then flowed all the way, until it met her jeans that hung low on her hips. It was around a quarter inch deep the whole way down. A scar was inevitable, and would forever be a reminder of what happened.
From what the officer in charge told us, once they received the call, cruisers were dispatched. The first officer that arrived reported seeing a man, but didn’t give chase since he had a victim that needed medical attention.
Although the officer arrived in time to prevent rape, she still had bruises from head to toe, as well as contusions and scrapes on her knees, elbows, hands, chest, and face.
I pulled up in front of my rooms and shut the truck off. Max was standing in front of his place with a blank face, and a beer bottle dangling from his thumb and pointer finger. I nodded at him as I rounded the truck and opened Em's door. She was knocked out on painkillers thankfully; otherwise, she would have never let me go to drive us home.
Max stopped in to check on her when he dropped my truck off, and she told him to go home because she was a big girl. No one commented that she had yet to let me go. Max had given her a soft kiss on the forehead and then took off shortly after. He wasn't doing well, even though he was hiding it good. It was only obvious to us since we’d been in life or death situations more times than we could count, and knew each other very well. He was tied in knots, and if he didn't get himself straightened out, he would blow. Neither one of us was happy that Ember was beaten, and almost raped; that put both of us so close to the edge I wasn’t sure I could keep myself from falling over it.
Ember woke when we made it to the bedroom, and gave me a small smile.
"Can I borrow some clothes?” Ember whispered.
I turned and grabbed some basketball shorts from the top of my dresser, as well as a t-shirt that I had worn earlier that day. I handed them to her and she laughed.
"I told you I'd get this shirt from you!” She said jovially.
I smiled at her, kissed her nose, and left the room giving her some space to get changed. I knew she needed to do this on her own so I left her to it.
I couldn't help but smile when I remembered about the t-shirt.
I was working on my bike in the garage when she came up behind me and ran her hand over my back. She had never willingly touched me before and I was surprised that she had. According to Cheyenne I made her nervous, and she didn't like being out of her comfort zone.
"I love this shirt. Can I have it?” Ember asked me.
"Over my dead body.” I replied.
"It looks old anyhow, why does it matter. Please?” She whined, and then rolled her lower lip over and gave me a pleading look.
I rolled my eyes and ignored her. I was serious. This was my favorite shirt, and
I’d have to have a really good reason to give it up, and she hasn't give me a good enough one yet.
"Why do you like it? You can go get one from a mall in Dallas easily.” I said.
"Because it looks so soft. I love the saying, too, though. “She said.
The navy blue shirt had a star on the left breast and on the back in white writing it said, "You all can go to hell. I’m going to Texas." on it. My mother purchased it, and then sent it to me in Afghanistan. I received the shirt, and three days later received the news that she’d died. It was as if she’d known she wasn’t going to make it, and sent me some things that would make me think of her.
The shirt was more sentimental than anything else I owned, and I wore it sparingly now that it was looking so used and abused. During my army days, I would wear it under my BDUs while on missions. It seemed to be my lucky shirt, on top of my favorite. It's a miracle that it’s lasted so long. Pure luck. I’d been shot twice while wearing it, and neither time was it life threatening.
Ember came out a few minutes later drowning in my clothes. She was so gorgeous though. Her thick hair hung to just above her pert ass, curling at the bottom just slightly. With it down, I noticed the similarities between her and Cheyenne’s hair. Both had long blonde hair, but that is where the similarities ended. Cheyenne’s was a riot of curls, whereas Ember’s hung like a sheet down the length of her back. Only on the rarest of occasions had I even seen Ember’s hair down. Normally it was bundled up into a ball at the top of her head.