A Soul to Rescue Ch. 02: Waiting

Chapter 2: Waiting

Rain beat down on the tin roof above Devon Connors' head, save for a few spots where no roof existed. Thankfully, she'd been shoved into the only spot in the room that didn't have a hole in the ceiling, a dark corner behind the door. In all honesty, it was the first time she'd been thankful for that dry little corner. She'd envied the girls that had holes above their heads for nights now. At least, she thought, they could look up and see the clouds or blue sky during the day and the stars at night, reminding them that this stinky, hot, disgusting little room wasn't all there was to the world.

Her stomach cramped from hunger and her muscles cramped from lack of exercise. She'd been stuck in that position for far too long, her hands chained a few inches above her head. Her wrists were sore and raw, but at least she still could still feel them. At least she still had all off her fingers. Exhaustion and dehydration pressed down on her, making her weak and slow. She hadn't slept more than two or three hours at a time in weeks.

The room reeked of urine and human waste, but at least the rain provided a relief from the heat and steamy humidity, and the flies weren't swarming them for the moment. Some bastard flung the door open, banging it against her toes and knees, returning a girl to the room. They came and went at all hours of the day and night, bringing new girls, returning girls they'd taken out, taking girls, some to be returned, some to never be seen again. Those were the ones that bothered Devon the most, the ones that never came back. She could only imagine what was happening to them. She'd cried for them the first couple of nights, but the tears became scarcer when dehydration set in, but her heart still broke for them.

Each time the door opened, she prayed it would be Hannah or their rescue, but with each face of a girl she didn't know, she prayed a prayer of thanksgiving that her best friend wasn't there to endure this hell. Guilt and shame mixed with relief and loneliness. But, she'd been told that first day that they had Hannah, too, so she'd been looking for her in every set of eyes she saw. And she just prayed that they were lying to her, that Hannah hadn't been one of the ones that never returned.

Even in the darkness, Devon could make out the silhouette of the girl just returning enough to know who she was – the Hispanic girl with long black hair and big brown eyes. Devon assumed the girl's name was Camila, since she kept repeating it over and over whenever anyone would talk to her. She didn't speak a word of English, but it didn't take much to understand the sadness in the girl's eyes and the fear in her voice. Clearly, this hadn't been what she'd signed up for, this hadn't been the dream she had left home to live.

Devon had kicked her own water bottle over to the girl the day before when one of the bastards who kept them here had taken Camila's. It was the only time Devon had seen anything resembling a smile cross any of the girls' faces, not that she expected much more. This wasn't the relaxing weekend she and her best friend, Hannah, had planned. This was straight from the pits of hell.

The son-of-a-bitch that brought Camila back, cursed at Devon on the way out, and raised his hand as if he was going to strike her again, but just laughed when she flinched, doing her best to duck her head behind her arms. She had fought them from the start, earning her several beatings, but at least she still had her virginity. And she would continue fighting them, continue biting and clawing and kicking and punching if it meant they would stay off of her. She would rather they put a bullet through her brain than touch her.

But a part of her was certain they wouldn't. A part of her was certain they were saving her, keeping her untouched in that way. She was a smart girl, she knew they were waiting to sell her. But, they'd busted her lip and blackened her eyes. They would have to wait until the bruises went away to fetch the highest price possible, so she kept doing anything she could to keep the hits coming. But she knew their patience was already growing thin and their tolerance wouldn't be infinite – eventually, they'd get fed up, eventually, they would kill her.

She must have fallen asleep for some time, but for how long, she didn't know, for when she came to, the rain had stopped and the sun was out, peeking through the holes in the roof. The two windows were blacked out by paint and ratty, threadbare blankets, but enough light came in through the roof that she could see the details of the room easily enough.

Only three other girls were in there with her, at the time. Camila was gone again, and another one that had spoken kindly to Devon when she'd first come was missing, too. She didn't know the other one's name, nor did she know the names of any of the girls currently chained along the wall. One was new, though. Bless her heart, Devon thought, her nightmare was just beginning.

A few hours later, the door opened again, slamming into her. She hollered out and spit at the man, but he just spit back on her and laughed. But, instead of moving past her like they usually would, he reached down and grabbed her shackles, unlocking them from the wall and pulling her upwards. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out as the rusty metal pinched her raw and bloodied wrists.

It was the first time in days she had stood and her legs and back were sore and stiff. But he didn't allow her time to adjust, to stretch her aching muscles, he just yanked her forward and shoved her towards the door.

The house was a small shack in the middle of the woods, surrounded by trees and overgrown foliage. The man behind her shoved her through the door into the backyard and immediately Devon was hit with a blast of icy cold water from a hose. The man behind her cursed and shoved her to the ground so he could get out of the way of the water. Her hands and knees scraped against concrete, and she just curled up into a ball, shielding her battered face from the stinging spray. Once she was thoroughly drenched, someone pulled her up by her hair and turned her around to see her face.

He wore a mask, they all did. But, she recognized his eyes. In an instant, she knew she'd looked into those evil eyes before. She knew him. She felt a dizzying sickness blossom in the pit of her stomach as things started to click, as memories started to surface.

"Hello, Devon," he said, and there was no mistaking it. She was right.

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead of words, the only thing that came out was puke.

He cursed and stepped away as she vomited on his shirt and shoes. He slapped her and instantly the cold water blasted her on the back again, before moving down to wash the vomit from the small concrete slab. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and waited for her biological father to step back up to her.

Suddenly, all fear was gone and a cold, deadly hatred sat in its place. She would kill him. She would find a way and she would enjoy it. That sort of evilness didn't deserve to live. She would end him, or she would die trying. But, before he could come back to her, Devon heard an order that had a mixture of relief and disappointment washing over her.

"Drop your weapons!" a male voice shouted from behind her. She stood facing the shack, but a quick glance to either side revealed several uniformed police officers closing in around them, all with guns drawn and ballistic vests and helmets with the word SWAT emblazoned across them.

Several curses and a loud pop rang through the air in the same instant that Devon felt the worst pain of her life. She fell to the ground, doubled over from a gunshot wound to her side. Another deafening pop and a gun clattered to the ground by her feet. A pool of blood started to run towards her, but she couldn't care. A dark red tinge started to press in around the outside of her vision, and she hit the ground just as the darkness overtook her.

****

It was raining again, and somehow it seemed fitting to Jake Connors as he stared out the window, watching as raindrops made little streams down the glass outside of his sister's hospital room. The image of how he found her kept replaying in his head, seeing the way she had curled up into a ball and watching that damned piece-of-shit father of hers abuse her. At the time, he'd been grateful that it wasn't him that pulled the trigger to take the monster's life, but now a part of him felt cheated and gypped out of something that could have been so satisfying.

He felt guilty for feeling that way. He was a good cop, like most of his brothers and sisters in blue. But, for some monsters, there was no redeeming quality, nothing worth saving. And the man that had sired Devon was one of those monsters – so vile and evil and that there was hardly a human quality about him. He was more demon than man.

It had only been a few hours since Devon and five other girls had been rescued, all of them needing varying degrees of medical attention, and Jake had watched Devon go from the healthiest one to the most critical in an instant. But, she'd be fine. At least her physical body would be. Her emotional state was something still unknown.

His cell phone rang; it was his oldest brother James.

"Hello?" he said, his voice raspy. He got up from his spot in the window and stepped out into the hall, not wanting to bother Devon's rest.

"Jake? Dad said ya'll have Devon. How is she?" Jake could hear James' kids in the background chanting their aunt's name and their mother shushing them. A small smile crept across his lips as they giggled and ran out of earshot.

"She's sleeping now. A quick surgery to retrieve the bullet and patch her up. Everything's fine. They're pumping fluids and pain meds into her and letting her sleep it off. Doctor says she'll be fine in a couple of days." His own tiredness was evident in his voice. For the first time in weeks, he was allowing himself to truly relax.

"Need us to come? We'll be there in a few hours if you do." James' wife was in the background dictating to James what to say. "Laura says she can stay and you can come back for work."

"No, no. I've got the time and freedom. Ya'll have the kids to care for. I'm sure I'll need her when we get home. Just tell Paul to drop by and check on Sunny. I left so quick, I didn't even think to leave enough stuff out for him."

"Will do, brother. Keep us posted and see you in a few days."

In reality, Jake knew he wouldn't be able to keep the family away when they got back to Nashville. He would try to keep things calm, to allow Devon time to recoup and heal from her trauma without their big, crazy family smothering her, but he knew it wouldn't work that way. His older brothers and their wives wouldn't allow it. And Paul had already called three times that morning to see if there were any changes. Their parents would be the most understanding. But, he was certain they would insist on Devon staying with them, but Jake wouldn't allow it. He would put his foot down; he would insist on her staying with him. He'd take time off work if he had to. Lord knows he had the time to take. He hadn't missed a day of work since he started at the department.

It would be months before he would trust Devon out of his sight again. And the rest of them would just have to accept that. And they would. Especially when Devon would see things his way, when Devon would choose him.

He sat back down in the window of Devon's room and stared out the window, waiting for her to wake up.