Tortured Sinner by Tessa James

Johnny – 14

Ishould be doing a million other things than what I’m doing right now, but here I am, avoiding all of them and doing this instead.

Franklin gave me an opportunity to redeem myself, so that’s what I’m going to do.

Only, a short while into my detective work, I spot her through a window, laughing and smiling and having fun.

I don’t know why I was able to zero in on her in a room full of people, and I sure as shit couldn’t help the magnetic pull she has on me, dragging me into that packed bar.

I claim a seat near the door, ordering a whiskey neat and keeping my distance from her in case I’m spotted. I just have to make sure she’s okay, that she truly is having a good time, that she’s safe.

She downs drink after drink, enough that I’m worried. Something feels off, like she’s masking some emotion with the endless shots.

I can’t leave, not yet, not until I know for sure.

The girl with bright blonde hair grabs her arm and tugs her onto the pool table.

I cringe when her light-lilac shirt slides up a little, exposing part of her side. Something primal kicks in and nearly has me jumping from my seat to toss my denim jacket around her and shield her from all of the prying eyes.

But the fabric goes down and I stay put, not making a scene in front of everyone.

If she wants to dance, she can dance.

I try not to be another one of the many looking her way, but each time she sways to the edge of the table, I find myself inching closer in her direction.

I pay my bill and down the rest of my drink, somehow sensing the finale coming soon. I shouldn’t intrude. I should let her carry on and do what she wants. But something inside of me won’t allow me to stand back and watch it unfold.

She does exactly what I think she’s going to do—she falls, and thankfully, I time everything just right to catch her in my arms.

I bring her to her feet and the blonde girl shoves me.

“Get the fuck off her,” she spits.

I calm myself, not wanting to react negatively to her friend. I’m sure this comes across like I’m some random weirdo trying to cop a feel, when in reality, I’m desperately working to make sure that doesn’t happen.

“I’m trying to help.” I extend my hands to show them that I’m not a threat. “Why’d you let her get this drunk?”

The blonde grabs her from my arms and moves her quickly—too quickly. “Do you know this guy?”

I move on instinct, catching her when she’s about to fall. It takes everything I have to not scoop her up and take her away from here immediately.

“What’s her name then, if you know her so well?” Her friend tries to break her away from me again.

After all this time, all that we’ve been through, I still don’t know her fucking name. How is that even possible?

"Johnny." Her voice is just a whisper. Her hand cups my cheek, and I'm reminded of a few nights ago when she did the same thing moments prior to me passing out in a pain-induced stupor.

I stare into her ocean blue eyes, eager for her to know I’m here. “It’s me.”

The friend blurts something out, but I don’t hear her, not when I’m focused on the helpless creature in my arms.

“I think she’s had enough for tonight.” I hold onto her, so she doesn’t fall. “Can you stand?”

“I’m not already?”

I help her stand, giving her my arm to stabilize her. I ignore the shock of electricity coursing through my fingers as they graze across her bare skin.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” I move her through the crowd and toward the door, not caring to continue the mind-numbing conversation with her friend while the other two girls stood back and gawked.

They’ve all had more than enough to drink tonight, but the two friends seem to be a bit more experienced in this department.

“Ay, Johnny!” The bartender catches my attention on the way out. He points to the sloppy girl in my arms. “She hasn’t paid her tab.”

I reach into my pocket, fishing a hundred out and slapping it onto the counter. “Does that cover it?”

He slides it across and holds it up to the light. “Yep.”

I continue to navigate us through the crowd and out into the brisk night. It’s refreshing to get away from the thick atmosphere of that bar.

I glance down at the girl at my side. “You okay?”

She’s not heavy by any means, which makes me wonder how the hell she managed to drag my ass out of that alley and into my place.

“Mmm,” she mumbles. “I can w-walk.” She pulls herself from my assistance.

I hold out my arms in case she falls again. I don’t want to encroach, but I’d like to be there if she needs me. “I can help.”

“Y-you can’t…help…me.” She walks a few feet and stops, perking up and glancing around. “Where are we?” She blinks stiffly.

I point in the direction of our complex. “We’re this way.”

“Right.” She takes off the opposite way.

I steady her by the shoulders and spin her around to the proper route.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” She giggles. “I was…testing you.” She reaches out, weaving her hand around mine, our fingers interlocking, and pulling me with her. “Come on.”

My breath hitches, and I stare like an idiot at the joined connection. I have to force myself to move, otherwise I’d stand there totally flabbergasted by the ease of our hands fitting together.

We walk a little way until we’re about to pass a food cart.

“I’m starvingggg,” she emphasizes while holding onto her stomach.

Getting something in there to soak up some of that booze is probably a good idea, and considering how adorable she is, I can’t exactly refuse her.

I buy her a slice of pizza and her eyes light up like I gave her the moon. Her reaction warms my heart in a way I sort of wish I could shut off.

She walks slowly and manages to devour it within minutes. She balls up the wrapper and turns, looking for a trash can.

My gaze falls to the red splotch of sauce on her chin. Everything turns to slow motion, and without thinking, I reach up and swipe it away with my thumb. Another one of the things I’ve done tonight that I clearly shouldn’t have.

Her eyes meet mine, and she seems just as surprised as I am by the entire interaction. Her breath is steady and even.

We stay that way for a long second, peering at each other.

Finally, she grins and grabs onto my hand, pulling us in the direction of our complex.

I take her garbage and toss it into a dumpster that we pass.

I don’t say another word on the trek to our building, and thankfully, she doesn’t either. There are so many things I should tell her, but now isn’t the time. I don’t know if there ever will be. An apology would potentially repair things between us, and if that happens, I lose the advantage I have of her hating me. The one that helps keep her safe.

All I have to do is get her home. Get her into her house, and the rest will be history. She’s drunk enough that she’ll probably forget all of this happened and assume one of her friends walked her back. She won’t remember holding my hand or touching my face, or the many times I caught her when she was falling.

I’ll be able to walk away and pretend nothing happened. I’ll live with the secret memory of her skin on my fingertips and the strange sensation in my chest when she’s around.

I’ll cherish it but tuck it away, like a photograph from a long-ago era.

We arrive at the gate outside our complex, and she breaks the connection between us. The absence of her touch stays with me long after it should.

She pokes the access box, and it beeps loudly, blinking red. She sighs and repeats the same thing two more times.

“Here.” I enter my code and the latch unlocks, granting us entry.

She stumbles walking through the courtyard, bumping into a potted plant and seeming highly offended that it had the nerve to be in her way.

I stifle a laugh at how completely adorable she is when she’s drunk. Or maybe it’s not the alcohol and just her that brings a smile to my face. I shake the thought away and focus on the last few steps to get her settled in for the night.

We pause at her door, and she shoves her hands into her pockets.

“Uh…” She reaches behind her, pulling out her cell phone but nothing else. She giggles and leans against her door, a mixture of exhaustion and intoxication settling heavily over her.

"Where're your keys?" I ask her.

She bites at her lip and averts her gaze, like she’s trying to recall a memory.

I force myself to look away from her mouth.

She shrugs. “Where’s yours?” Without warning, she shoves her hand into the pocket of my jeans and tugs the chain out. She holds them out between us and rattles them. “Finders keepers.”

It’s everything I can do to not let my jaw drop to the floor. She’s a fireball when she’s been drinking.

She strolls over to my door and slides the correct key into the lock, turning the handle and going inside.

I follow after her. “Hey, wait, what are you doing?”

She doesn’t bother turning on the light; she just goes straight past the kitchen, and down the hallway, like she’s already memorized where to go. She’s about to step into my room when she strips her shirt over her head and tosses it onto the floor.

“Whoa!” I turn my head and throw my arm up to cover my face.

What the hell is she doing?

I carefully make my way down the hall and peek into the room. “Dude.”

My heart thuds loudly and I shield my eyes again while she unbuttons her skin-tight jeans and steps out of them.

“Johnnyyy…”

I don’t even know her name, and she’s undressed and sprawled out on my bed. Thank God I decided to wash my sheets after I bled all over them.

I backtrack to the laundry room and pull the blanket out of the dryer. I clutch it in my hand and keep my eyes sealed shut on my way to where she is. I toss it onto where I think the bed is and squint to confirm she’s covered.

She sighs and nuzzles into the pillow. “This is nice,” she murmurs.

I approach cautiously, leaning down to bring the comforter over her exposed shoulder.

Her eyes open slowly, and for a second, I worry how she’ll react to seeing me here in front of her.

She reaches toward me. “Are you real?” Her hand grips onto mine.

I kneel there, next to the bed, wondering the same about her. “Yeah.” I study the way our skin touches, not wanting to forget a single detail. “Can I ask you something?”

Part of me is hesitant to have the answer, that if I finally know, maybe she’ll vanish before my eyes, never to be seen or heard of again. Disappearing quicker than she appeared. Leaving a bigger void than the one she created when she suddenly showed up in my life.

If I solve the mystery, will I lose her?

“Anything,” she whispers.

I swallow the lump in my throat. If I’m going to do this, what better time than now? At least, if she evaporates into thin air, I’ll be with her when it happens.

We’ll have been together.

“What’s your name?” Each word is more difficult than the last to get out. I hold my breath, afraid of the unknown. The irrational possibility that she’s just a figment of my twisted imagination.

Her lips part slowly. “Claire.”

And with that one syllable, a new life is awakened within me.

“Claire.” I let it roll off my tongue, testing the name out.

It’s beautiful and angelic, like her, and I’m not at all surprised with how familiar it feels.

Moments pass and she stays, disproving my foolish fears.

She struggles to keep her eyes open, and once they close, she becomes even more delicate than before. There’s a saying about not plucking a beautiful flower, because when you do, it will wither and die. Well, Claire is an elegant flower that should never be picked. Not a soul could ever be worthy of what she has to offer. She is a gift from the universe that should not be disturbed or tainted by this cruel world.

It pains me to know that there’s no way I can have her in my life. Not if I intend on putting her safety first. The best thing I could ever do for her is to push her away, not allow what’s going on with me to corrupt her in the same manner it’s doing to me.

At the very least, I owe her that.

I pull my hand away from hers, despite fighting the desire to keep it there for as long as possible.

Her dark brown eyebrow raises, and she extends her arm into the space between us. “Stay.”

My heart constricts, but I remind myself that she’s drunk. She probably doesn’t know what she’s saying. Maybe she thinks I’m someone else. Anyone other than me. I have done nothing to deserve the privilege of staying here with her.

“Johnny…” She adjusts her head on my pillow and exhales deeply.

If tomorrow comes and I have to say goodbye, at the very minimum, I can give myself the night.

I tuck a strand of her long hair behind her ear and glance over to the recliner in the corner of my room. I quietly grab a blanket from the linen closet and settle into my makeshift bed.

It’s not far, but it still doesn’t seem close enough. I’ll be able to keep an eye on her in case she needs anything. Or I tell myself that to excuse my decision of sleeping in here instead of on the couch in the living room.

I stay in that old chair for hours, praying for sleep to finally take me. But it never comes. I watch her steady in and out breaths to reassure myself that she’s okay, and contemplate what the fuck I’m going to do about the Franklin situation. I can’t seem to shut my mind off and get any of the rest I desperately need.

I’m never going to heal from all of these injuries if I can’t doze off for even a minute.

Claire rolls over and flops her arm against the bed. Her face is strained, and her leg twitches under the blanket. She mumbles something but I can’t make it out.

I raise my head and take a better look.

“Stop,” she urges.

She’s having a nightmare.

My first instinct is to wake her up, but if I learned anything from the night terrors my cousin has when he’s home from his deployment, it’s that you should avoid disturbing someone during an episode. It can cause them to be confused and disoriented, and often does more harm than good.

It’s for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier to sit back and watch.

“Get off me.” She grips at the sheet and moves her head.

Something is trying to get to her in her dream, and I wish like hell I could be there to save her.

She turns the other way. “Please, Griff, you’re hurting me.”

Not something, but someone.

A metaphorical knife cuts through my chest at the plea that leaves her mouth.

Even in her imagination, how could anyone ever hurt her?

I hop out of the chair and rush to the side of the bed. If this goes any further, I have to wake her up. I can’t allow anyone to lay a hand on her. Real or not.

“I said stop.” She flails one last time and then the tension in her body relaxes.

I let out a sobering breath and sink against the mattress. I close my eyes and lean my head back. A second later, a warm hand lands on my shoulder.

I glance over and see that her eyes are closed, telling me that she probably didn’t do it on purpose. In the words of Bob Ross, it’s a happy little accident.