Page 8 of Baby Girl
There is a muted thud, like flesh hitting flesh—a slap to a chest, maybe?
“I got out!” There is a sob wrapped around Emery’s words. “I got out, I was making something of myself. Why the hell couldn’t you leave me alone? Clean up one of your own messes for once? You can’t use me like this forever!”
My heart sinks with every one of her words, sure I know what she is saying but not wanting to believe it.
Derek turns to me, and I see my own devastated emotions reflected on his face.
We’ve all known, in the backs of our minds, that our girl has gone through things, terrible things that no one should ever have to endure. But if this is exactly what we think it is…
The calmness that has taken over my system for the past half hour falls away as a white heat spreads through my torso and out to my limbs. Tightening my grip around the wooden plank until the edges bite into my skin and my knuckles ache, I’m forced to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming out my rage.
Suddenly, I’m incredibly glad we didn’t call the police.
Derek’s phone lights up in his hand, and I glance at the screen.
Xavier:10 sec. BU arriving in 2min.
BU?
Derek shoves his phone into his pocket and raises the gun. I want to question where he learned to hold a gun like that, but figure now is not the right time. If I had to guess, I would say Xavier has something to do with it.
“Be careful of rotten floorboards,” I whisper as I press my free hand onto his shoulder.
He nods, then starts a countdown. “Five, four, three, two, one.”
Raising his leg, Derek kicks in the back door, which gives him zero resistance, and a similar noise from the front of the house reaches us. The back door opens into a kitchen area with only one other entry, but only if you ignore the massive gaping hole in the wall that leads to the next room, which is where the only source of light is coming from.
Xavier and then Darcy appear in the hallway within seconds, and I indicate the room where I can hear a physical altercation becoming more aggressive as Emery screams. I try to shut it out, but fuck, hearing her scream like that, with pain and fear? That is something I never, ever, need to hear again.
Derek and I go to the hole while Xavier and Darcy go through the door, the crackling of the taser announcing their arrival.
Xavier’s voice rings out over the screaming and the asswipe’s demands for us to stay back. “Lower your weapon. Let the girl go.”
Derek steps through the hole, bringing him within feet of Emery, her back pressed to Tray’s chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and with a knife against her throat, leveraging her to her tiptoes. “Drop the knife!”
“Get the fuck away! I’ll split her throat open, I’ll do it! Stay back!” the piece of shit screams, spittle flying from his terrified lips.
My eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting, but what I see makes my fist squeeze around my heart. Addict. His face iscovered in sores, lips chewed to shit, eyes wild as he tries to process all the information slamming into him right now.
“Lower the fucking weapon now, or a bullet is going in your skull,” Xavier threatens, cutting over Tray’s demands. His words are so cold that the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
He doesn’t really mean that, right? Yeah, I want to beat the shit out of Tray, but we’re still calling the cops to deal with him after. Right?
I step through the hole, then scan Emery from head to toe. One of her arms is hanging uselessly by her side, while the other clutches at the forearm wrapped around her shoulders, and one cheekbone is red and swollen and has the smallest split in it.
Tray yanks her back higher against him, trying to cover more of his head with her body, but cutting off her blood flow to her head. The color leeches from her—her skin pales and her eyelids droop.
“Derek,” I mutter, not sure exactly what I’m trying to say to him, but he sees it.
“Emery, baby, you got this, stay with us,” he encourages her, his voice straining as he tries to sound calm. “Keep your eyes open, baby.”
Her eyelids flutter and she looks up, but it’s clear that she can’t focus. I glance around, trying to see if there is anything in the room that will give us even a few answers, and my gaze lands on the plastic-wrapped block of white powder with the corner cut open. There are discarded needles, spoons, and… is that a tire tube?
Is she high?
No, she can’t be. Her voice was clear, sharp. This is something else. My heart makes itself known once again, beating heavily in my chest as I turn back just in time to see Emery’s eyes close and her entire body sag against the arm supporting her. Tray can’t handle the sudden weight on his arm, and they both tipforward for a moment before he releases her and leaves himself completely exposed.
I don’t get any time to process the fact that she passed out, because there is a quiet thud andpffft, and then Tray’s shoulder snaps back and he is flung back against the wall of the house.
