The female cop must have called for another ambulance while I was being pulled off Josh. I wanted to scream at them to leave him there to rot. He didn’t deserve any help. He deserved handcuffs or a bullet to the head.
More cops arrived and they sat Ian and me with our backs against a nearby wall. Ian answered the questions asked because I couldn’t be bothered. My eyes were glued to Gianna.
My girl was hurt and I couldn’t do one thing to make it better. I hadn’t protected her. I hadn’t been on time to save her.
When one of the cops dropped a bloody flashlight into an evidence bag, I wanted to scream.
As they wheeled Gianna on the gurney out of the cafeteria and I couldn’t follow, I did scream.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“There is always some madness in love. But there
is also always some reason in madness.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
CALEB
“I should have hit him in the head with that chair,” Ian mused for the hundredth time.
“Shut the hell up,” I mumbled, keeping my forearm over my eyes as I lay on the bunk. I might be forced to share a cell with him, but that didn’t mean I had to look at his ugly mug.
“How many ribs do you think I broke, C?” Ian asked, pretending to be oblivious to my need for solitude.
“Do not nickname me. We are so not on a nickname basis,” I ground out between clenched teeth.
Somehow I’d wound up in hell. Had I missed the part where I died? Who’d decided it would be a good idea to throw us in a cell together? Last night, Ian and I had taken turns beating the crap out of Josh. What made the cops think we wouldn’t turn on each other? I’d imagined punching Ian in the face many times since we landed in here. Knowing us though, if we started fighting, we wouldn’t stop until we were out of here, or they separated us.
After the paramedics had taken Gianna and Josh to the hospital, the cops took me and Ian to the police station. They’d grilled us separately for hours, making us tell our story over and over. My dad had showed up with a lawyer, the same one my parents used for me before. Only a lawyer had shown up for Ian.
When there wasn’t a cop in my face, I was freaking out about Gianna.
I should’ve been more alert when it came to Josh. I should’ve known he wouldn’t let it go and he’d do something extreme. Looking back, the signs were there, but my head had been someplace else. Lost in Gianna, I’d stopped taking anything else seriously. Stupid mistake, and my beautiful girl had paid for it.
Before they were done interrogating us, I’d asked my dad to run down to the hospital and check on her. I’d also bitched to the cops until they finally let me know Josh had in fact been handcuffed to his bed at the hospital. I guess once they’d realized he was the one to brutalize her, it wouldn’t be such a great idea to have him free in the same hospital as her.
My dad wasn’t back by the time they’d moved us from the police station to the holding facility for juveniles. They were supposed to release us into our parents’ custody once our parents showed up. For Ian that might be awhile, since he was pretty sure his dad was out of the country.
I wasn’t worried about my dad showing up. My mom would have already been here, but she was in Phoenix again for an art show. If my dad hadn’t come back from the hospital yet, it was for a good reason. I just prayed he came back with good news about Gianna.
I should’ve probably been grateful Ian hadn’t shut his trap. Otherwise I’d probably be going crazier. I felt already as if I was on the edge. I wasn’t satisfied with the beating Josh got. The things he’d done to her. . . .
Some broken ribs and a busted up face didn’t even begin to cover what he deserved. He deserved to go to hell. Forget prison, straight to hell should be his destination.
I was also trying not to freak out about the fact I wasn’t with Gianna right now. Sure, her mom was down at the hospital and her dad was probably on a plane right now from Houston. But she needed me. And I badly needed to see her.
I’d heard the paramedics listing off her injuries, so I knew none of them were life threatening, but she must be in severe pain. And not just physically. I didn’t have any experience dealing with anyone who’d been sexually assaulted, but I could imagine the kind of comfort and patience she needed.
I’d do anything to make it better for her. It was tearing me apart, what she’d suffered. Desperation to get to her had me jumping up to pace the cell.
“Caleb Morrison,” a deep voice said from outside the cell. Automatically, I spun around, eager to get out.
“Yeah?”
“Your dad’s here to take you home,” the guard informed me while unlocking the bars.