A Natural Act (Contradictions)

  A Natural Act

  By R. J. Sable

  Text copyright © 2014

  R. J. Sable All Rights Reserved

  To B for inspiring Craig’s abs, attitude, and loving side.

  To all those who have escaped the hurt and used it to grow stronger. I admire you.

  To Tazer for your continuing titillating accuracy.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 1

  I'm going to die this time. I'd almost bet my life on it, not that it'd be worth much at this point.

  I'm in my numb zone; I can't feel any of it anymore. Not on the outside. That's not unusual. It only took me about a year to learn to block it out. The trick is to really think about what's happening and try to understand. I think about why this is happening to me, why everything went so wrong.

  Why my fiancé wants to hurt me.

  The word fiancé is like acid in my mind, it corrodes and burns and I know it will never sit right. I just came to that understanding at the wrong time. The second he proposed, I knew I would be in this position; it was just a matter of time.

  He proposed in front of his family and I know how important he thinks it is to keep up appearances. He didn't miss a trick; he had everything in place. His three-piece tailored suit was pressed to perfection, his wing tips were shined so thoroughly I could see my reflection. He bent down on one knee and presented me with a diamond ring the size of a doll's head. The thing was hideous but it was obvious it cost a small fortune and that was what mattered.

  It was a dream proposal that resulted in a nightmare for me because I knew what would happen if I said no, and I so dearly wanted to say no.

  I'm not sure why it took his proposal for me to realise that I needed to escape. The notion of spending the rest of my life with Nigel was more terrifying than any beating or mind game he could dole out.

  Still, I said yes.

  He knew I would. I could see the victory in his eyes and he could see the understanding in mine. If I showed him up in front of his family and peers, I would be punished.

  I'm still being punished. That's what he calls it in the aftermath. I hate the aftermath because you can't block that pain out. It throbs and it aches and there's no numb zone. There's just hurt - physical and emotional. Sometimes he apologises, sometimes he makes me promise I'll do better. It doesn't matter what happens in the aftermath, I'm always too broken to make any difference so I just give him the empty forgiveness he wants and concentrate on staying conscious.

  I long to lose consciousness now. I've been in my head for too long and I haven't realised that he's stopped. I'm so numb that I can't tell. I'd open my eyes to look at him but one of them won't open and I daren't open the other one just in case I find I'm blind.

  I know he's thoroughly furious this time because it's very rare that he hits my face. He kicked it this time. I guess that's what happens when you give somebody back their diamond ring just hours after accepting it.

  I can vaguely hear his voice but it's muffled. I can still hear his tone now and I can tell he's panicked about something. Maybe he's realised I'm going to die as well. He's probably already figuring out how to get rid of me, what he'll tell people, how he can spin this in his favour.

  I'm just glad it's finally over. There's a momentary flicker of shame at that thought but I'm too numb to consider it. I'm too numb to live.

  I feel like I'm outside my body watching the world through a faulty telescope. I can see flashes of light through the eye I have left, I can't bear to open it more than a few millimetres because it's too much but I can tell I'm being moved.

  It's strange that I can't feel it.

  I can smell that sterile, alcohol based scent that tells me Nigel must have called for medical assistance. That surprises me and I'm almost thankful that he wants me to live until I remember why he gets to make that call.

  I must drift in and out of consciousness but I catch snippets of conversations and words like “fracture”, “bleeding”, and “surgery”. I guess these words should scare me but the numbness is back as I go deep into my disoriented zone, oblivious to the world around me.

  I don't know where Nigel is but I bet he's close. I belong to him, he wouldn't want to lose track of me. He's probably trying to figure a way out of this situation. No amount of clumsiness could explain away my injuries this time.

  “When will she regain consciousness?” A no nonsense voice wakes me from whatever state I was in. Something feels different about my body and I'm not sure what.

  I can't move my arms and my legs feel heavy. I feel far too much and yet not enough.

  “Depends on the individual,” a harried voice answers. “But she'll be in no condition to talk.” The woman's voice is loaded with judgement. Whoever she is, she obviously doesn't think I'm in a position to have a natter. Considering I can barely muster the energy to see who is talking, I have to agree.

  “We need to speak to her. I don't buy his story, it doesn't sit right and he'll be back any second,” the man responds.

  I open one eye for a split second, just long enough to catch a glimpse of what is most definitely a police uniform. That means he's talking about Nigel - as if there were any doubt - and he'll be here any second.

  My stomach rolls at the thought and an involuntary moan of fear, pain, and despair rolls from my parched throat.

  “She's awake,” the officer points out the obvious.

  “She's in pain,” the lady I'm assuming is the doctor snaps and I feel her warming presence closing in on me. “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart?”

  I grimace at the pet name but shake my head because the light was too painful last time I tried.

  “I know it hurts but it's just for a few seconds,” she assures me.

  Nigel must have trained me well because I want to obey more than I want to avoid the light.

  I fight past the burning in my retinas and let her check my pupils. Or rather, pupil. I can't open one of my eyes, I think it's swollen shut.

  “Can you tell me your name?” She asks once I gratefully close my eyes.

  I try to speak but whimper and I soon feel a glass of cool water being pressed into my left hand. I'm grateful but I can’t really move my arm so I'm not sure what to do with it. I hear the doctor tutting and the water is removed and pressed to my lips at the same time as the bed is mechanically tilted to help me sit up slightly.

  The pain of being moved isn't as bad as I'm expecting and I realise I must be on some fairly strong medication. I gratefully lap the water up and it burns as it coats my sore throat but it's oh so refreshing and I cling to the scrap of humanity that drinking water brings back to me.

  “Isabella West,” I rasp, barely recognising my own voice.

  “Can you tell us what happened to you?” Officer Obvious demands, cutting off the doctor as she starts to speak.

  I clamp my mouth shut and feel the all too familiar panic rising inside me. I don't know what to say; Nigel isn't here and I don't know what he's told them. If I say the wrong thing he'll... it doesn't bear thinking about so I keep my vice like clamp firmly in place.

  “You were attacked,” the officer states but there's a hint of inflection, like he's waiting for me to confirm or deny.

  I ignore him and try to keep from trembling. I'm somehow alive but, if I say the wrong thing, that won't be the case for much longer. I won't be able to work in the state I'm in and he'll keep me at home, where he can watch me. I can't risk saying the wrong thing when I know what I'll be going back to.

  I don't want to go back but I have no choice. He's seen to that.

  “Who attacked you?”

  When I maintain my silence, the nurse bustles in frustration. With me or the officer, I'm not sure.

  “Was it your boyfriend?” He demands.

  I can feel my body shaking despite the numbing medication and I just want him to leave. If Nigel sees him in here, he might jump to conclusions and I'll be punished no matter what.

  “Her fiancé,” Nigel's sharp tones break the silence and I order my body to still. I can't give him any reason to suspect I've said anything I shouldn't have.

  “And it most certainly was not.”

  “We need to question Ms West. Alone,” the officer replies stiffly.

  “I don't think so. Not without legal representation,” Nigel replies. His voice is c
ool and that's why I know he already has this all figured out. He's transitioned into his role as lawyer and his words ooze controlled confidence. “I believe you're familiar with my firm, Callaghan & Sons.”

  It's hard not to be; everyone in the city knows the name of his family's law firm. Mostly because of the less than stellar reputation of most of our clients.

  “I know who you are, Mr Callaghan. Which is why you can't act as Ms West’s representation. It's a conflict of interest.”

  “I'm still her lawyer and you can't question her until alternative representation is secured. She's in no condition to be answering your questions in any case.”

  “And we need to establish what put her in that condition,” the officer returns with the hint of a growl in his voice.

  I don't need to look to know Nigel is smirking. The officer is frustrated and that makes him weak in Nigel's eyes - he's showing his hand.

  “I've already told you what happened. Why are you not out looking for the two men who broke into our car whilst I was paying for fuel?”

  Apparently that's the cover story. I'm careful to pay attention because I know I'll be expected to remember it. Nigel gives a brief summary of events which I'm pretty sure is for my benefit. When the officer talks directly to me instead of him, Nigel takes a step closer and I flinch despite my best attempts.

  I know I shouldn't have done it but it was a reflex and it's too late to take it back now.

  The officer's eagle eyes hone in the movement and I see the confirmation of his suspicions register in his expression. He takes a step to put himself between Nigel and myself and I'm grateful but I can see the flicker of anger in Nigel's otherwise collected expression. I feel bile rising in my throat because that flicker doesn't bode well for me.

  My fear seems to be sobering me up and the pain in my body seems to be throbbing faster as I become aware of the sheer volume of the noise around us. It's obviously a busy night and nurses, patients, and doctors are rushing through the ward in every direction.

  I expect Nigel would have wanted a private room as a reflection of his status. They must not have had any and I suspect that irritated him as well.

  The officer opens his mouth to speak but his radio goes off at that second and he grimaces as a harassed voice blares into the room.

  I can't hear what he's saying because my non-swollen eye meets Nigel's and I’m too consumed by what I see there. It holds my full attention because I'm receiving the message loud and clear.

  Don't ruin his reputation.

  I snap back to the room around us as I hear the officer curse under his breath. I catch the last few words of the voice over his radio demanding his attention for a drunken brawl breaking out in the waiting room of the ER.

  “Don't leave him alone with her!” He barks as he bolts through the hanging fabric divide and down the corridor.

  “Wait!” The doctor groans in frustration, watching his departing back. “Useless. The lot of them,” she mumbles, more to herself than anyone else.

  If I could, I’d grin, because I like this doctor. She seems capable, competent, and so far she hasn’t asked me any awkward questions.

  “You heard the man, get away from her,” the doctor bustles, coming to my side and turning her back on me.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Nigel replies indignantly, looking down his nose at the woman.

  “Listen, I don’t give a hoot who you are or how important you think you are. I don’t know if you did this or not but if there’s even the slightest chance you hurt this woman, I can’t allow you to be here. She’s my patient and my first responsibility,” she snaps.

  “Now you listen to me,” Nigel bites back with an eerie coolness. “Your job is to look after my fiancé, if you want to keep that job, I suggest you keep your mouth closed and get on with it.”

  The nurse laughs and I’m awed by her carefree reaction to his threats. I don’t remember a time his threats didn’t chill me to the bone.

  “You’re not a threat to my job, boy,” she chuckles and I know how much Nigel hates being called boy by the tense set of his facial muscles. “Do you have any idea how short-staffed we are? They’re not going to fire me because some up-himself young lawyer has something to prove. Now,” she sobers and puts herself back between the two of us. “Leave before I make you leave.”

  I hear a small snort of derision from Nigel and I sort of see his point. I’m not sure how this tiny, grey haired doctor is going to force him to leave but I admire and envy her gumption.

  The doctor just smiles at Nigel’s reaction and her eyes flick to the side, her grin broadening as she beckons somebody over. Whoever it is, they’re just out of my line of sight. I close my functioning eye for a brief second of respite before it snaps open at the deep growl of a man’s voice.

  “Problem, Jenny?”

  Chapter 2

  The man’s rumbling vocal chords force my eye wide open and I find myself wishing I could open the other one to get a better look.

  A young man with his hair shaved off stands before us. His intimidating form looms over the end of my bed and my vision scans the multiple tattoos which peak out from beneath his white tank top. His skin is impressively tanned considering the time of year. His baggy, grey jogging bottoms hang low on his hips and I have to wonder who he is, dressed like that in a hospital. Whoever he is, his presence dominates the room. He seems incredibly comfortable in his skin and very aware of the way people seem to stare at him.

  And who can blame them?

  He looks like a thug they dragged off the street and I have to wonder if that’s not the case considering the Neanderthal level aggression that radiates from him as he studies Nigel.

  Quite an attractive Neanderthal though.

  I swallow slightly and force my gaze up to his. Everything about his exterior screams violence but… then there are his eyes.

  They’re the sharpest of blues and they slice over Nigel like daggers, studying every detail of his exterior. There’s a subtle intelligence there that doesn’t match his aggressive stance and it makes me shudder as his haunches rise and his fists close around the metal end of my bed.

  “I know you’ve finished for the day, duck, and I’d never normally ask, but security are run off their feet with the drunks and the police officer got called away to assist. Can you escort this gentleman out of the ward?” The word gentleman is said with utmost contempt and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Nigel.

  I must be on some sort of happy meds because the doctor’s derision sort of makes me want to laugh.

  “That’s enough,” Nigel bites with a flicker of irritation. “I have every right to be here. I will not stand to be disresp-”

  “He do this to you?” The man ignores Nigel and looks straight at me.

  I swallow and retreat slightly because he oozes aggression but as his eyes meet mine, they soften. It’s not a monumental difference but it’s enough to give me a glimpse of the man. The real man. There’s something there that’s familiar to me, something shared, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  I instinctively know that – no matter how terrifying he looks – this man is no threat to me.

  Nigel, however, is the very definition of a threat so I shake my head quickly, responding to his question in the negative.

  He studies me for a fraction of a second longer before nodding, seemingly coming to a decision. Wordlessly, he grabs the scruff of Nigel’s collar and roughly drags him away.

  “What the-” Nigel’s high-pitched protests are cut off as the man places a firm hand around the top of his neck and squeezes, cutting off his oxygen supply.

  “Thanks, Craig!” The nurse calls over her shoulder, already dismissing my tormentor and the bulky man who is frogmarching him away.

  “Wait,” I groan, my quickening heartbeat pounding in my chest.

  He’s hurting and embarrassing Nigel. He won’t like that, not one bit. And public image is so very important. He’s being embarrassed in front of every single person in the hospital.

  And I’ll be the one to suffer for it.

  I’m suddenly feeling very sober as I struggle to manoeuvre my broken body away from the bed. I don’t know what to do but I know I need to stop this. I need to do something.

  There are alarms and beeping sounds all around me and I feel lightheaded as my brain issues signals to my body which are repeatedly rebuffed. I lie almost immobile in my bed as my mind screams for action.