Page 13

Chapter 13

Elle

THE NEXT EVENING

I yawn, trying not to get pissed that this nurse has come in for the tenth time in the last hour while I’m trying to nap.

I sent everyone home earlier to get some rest, yet over half of the club has decided to stay the night and into the early morning in the waiting room.

But there’s no point in everyone wearing themselves out.

My dad is asleep on the pull-out recliner that converts to a bed. I made room for Christopher in the bed with me, and my mom is home to make sure my brother Lawson is good.

The nurse offered to take Miracle to the nursery for the night so I could rest but I couldn’t bear the thought of her being out of my sight for even a moment. I know it's irrational, but the protective instinct that has taken over me is all-consuming.

I glance over at Miracle's bassinet, where she sleeps peacefully, her tiny hands curled into fists near her face. The sight of her fills my heart with a love so intense it takes my breath away. I still can't believe she's really here.

Christopher stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he pulls me closer. Even in sleep, he seeks to comfort and protect me. I snuggle into him feeling safe.

The nurse finally finishes her checks and leaves the room, the door clicking softly behind her. I let out a sigh of relief, hoping to catch a few more precious moments of rest before Miracle wakes for her next feeding.

Just as I'm about to drift off, a soft whimper emanates from the bassinet. My eyes snap open, and I carefully extract myself from Christopher's arms, trying not to wake him. I pad softly over to Miracle, scooping her up and cradling her against my chest.

"Shh, it's okay, baby girl," I whisper, gently rocking her as I make my way back to the bed. "Mama's here."

I settle back against the pillows, guiding Miracle to my breast.

She latches on eagerly, her little mouth working as she nurses. I stroke her soft cheek, marveling at the perfection of her features. These quiet moments, just the two of us, feel sacred and precious.

As Miracle feeds, I let my mind wander to the future. I imagine watching her grow, taking her first steps, saying her first words. I picture Christopher teaching her to ride a bike, my dad reading her bedtime stories. A smile tugs at my lips as I envision the incredible life we'll build for her.

Christopher begins to stir again, his eyes blinking open. He turns his head, his gaze landing on me and Miracle. A sleepy smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. "Everything okay?"

I nod, my own smile mirroring his. "Just feeding our hungry little lady," I reply softly.

He sits up, scooting closer to us. His hand comes to rest on Miracle's back, his thumb gently caressing her soft skin. "She's incredible, Elle," he whispers, awe coloring his tone.

"I know," I agree, leaning my head against his shoulder. "She's our little angel."

We sit in comfortable silence, watching as Miracle finishes feeding. I gently detach her, lifting her to my shoulder to burp her. Christopher reaches out, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

After a few pats, Miracle lets out a tiny burp, drawing a chuckle from both of us. I settle her back in my arms, her eyelids already drooping as she drifts back to sleep.

"Here, let me take her," Christopher offers, holding out his arms. "You should try to get some more rest."

I hesitate for a moment, reluctant to let her go. But the exhaustion tugging at my body wins out, and I carefully transfer Miracle into Christopher's waiting embrace. He cradles her with a tenderness that makes my heart ache, his eyes filled with pure adoration.

As I watch Christopher gently lay our daughter back in her bassinet, I'm overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude and love.

I settle back against the pillows, my eyes growing heavy. Christopher climbs back into bed beside me, pulling me into his arms. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"I love you, Christopher," I murmur, my words slurred with impending sleep. "Thank you for giving me this life, this family."

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. "I love you too, Elle. More than anything.

Derek

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind churning with thoughts and emotions. The joy and wonder of holding my newborn granddaughter mingle with the lingering pain and anger over what Elle had endured.

I think back to the day she told me about the assault, the way her voice trembled, the haunted look in her eyes. It was a moment that shattered my world, the realization that I had failed to protect my little girl from the worst kind of harm.

But then I think of Christopher, the way he stood by her side, the unwavering love and support he offered. As much as it pains me to admit, he has been the rock Elle needed, the one to help her heal and find happiness again.

I glance over at their sleeping forms, Elle nestled safely in Christopher's arms. A sense of peace settles over me, knowing that she has found a partner who will love and cherish her the way she deserves.

My gaze drifts to the bassinet, where Miracle sleeps soundly. A fierce protectiveness surges through me, a vow forming in my heart. I will do everything in my power to ensure that this innocent child never knows the pain and trauma her mother endured. She will grow up surrounded by love and safety, with a family that will move heaven and earth to keep her from harm.

Elle

I t’s now later in the afternoon and Meadow said I could go home if I wanted. She is going to be staying with me anyway, so there’s really no point in me being here.

I have Miracle on the bed in front of me. My dad left to go get things ready at home and to pick up my prescription. Christopher is in the bathroom. He has the door cracked so he can still see me. I’m getting her dressed to go, her car seat on the floor next to us.

As I finish packing up my belongings, a soft knock at the door draws my attention. I look up to see a familiar face peeking into the room—my old science teacher, Mr. Evans. He smiles warmly as he steps inside, a small gift bag in his hand.

"Elle, congratulations!" he exclaims, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. "I heard about your beautiful baby girl and I just had to come by and see you."

I'm surprised and touched by his visit, having not seen him since that day at school when I picked up my schoolwork. "Mr. Evans, thank you so much for coming," I say, motioning for him to come closer. "It's so good to see you."

He approaches the bed, setting the gift bag down on the nearby table. "I couldn't miss the chance to congratulate one of my brightest students," he says, pride evident in his voice. "I always knew you'd go on to do great things, Elle."

I blush at his praise. "I had a pretty great teacher to inspire me," I reply, smiling up at him.

Mr. Evans chuckles, waving off the compliment. "You had the drive and determination all on your own, my dear. I just provided a little guidance along the way."

He reaches for the gift bag, handing it to me with a flourish. "A little something for the new mama and her little one," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I take the bag, carefully removing the tissue paper to reveal a beautiful, hand-knitted baby blanket in soft shades of pink and cream. Nestled beside it is a small, plush teddy bear with a satin bow around its neck.

"Oh, Mr. Evans, these are lovely," I breathe, running my fingers over the intricate stitching of the blanket. "Did you make this yourself?"

He nods, a hint of pride in his smile. "A little hobby I picked up," he explains. "It keeps my hands busy and my mind sharp."

Christopher comes out of the bathroom, taking in the scene, and moves to stand next to me with my teacher at the end of the bed.

I feel uneasy under Mr. Evans's intense gaze, his smile now seeming more unsettling than friendly. Christopher must sense my discomfort, as he places a protective hand on my shoulder, his posture subtly shifting to a more guarded stance.

"Thank you for the gifts, Mr. Evans," Christopher says, his tone polite but firm. "We appreciate you taking the time to visit, but Elle needs her rest before we head home."

Mr. Evans's eyes flicker to Christopher, something dark and unreadable passing over his features for a brief moment before his smile returns.

He doesn’t take the hint that Christopher was offering but turns his eyes to my daughter. My nightgown is pushed down, showing my boobs, and I pull the neckline to cover them.

Mr. Evans's eyes linger on Miracle, a strange intensity in his gaze that sends a shiver down my spine. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the edge of the blanket she's swaddled in. "May I hold her?" he asks, his voice soft but insistent.

I hesitate, an inexplicable sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. I look at Christopher, hating to tell someone no, but I’m not comfortable with the idea.

“I don't think that's a good idea," Christopher says, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of warning. He moves to stand beside the bed, placing himself between Mr. Evans and Miracle. "Elle needs to rest, and we're about to head home."

Mr. Evans's smile falters, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he quickly masks it. "Oh, come now," he insists, his tone cajoling. "It will only take a moment. I just want to hold the little angel and offer my blessings. After all, Elle was one of my favorite students. It would mean the world to me."

He takes a step closer to the bed, his hands outstretched, fingers twitching with barely restrained eagerness. I clutch Miracle tighter to my chest, an icy tendril of fear snaking down my spine. Christopher moves to block Mr. Evans's advance, his body a solid wall of protection.

"I said no," Christopher repeats, his voice low and threatening. "I don't know what game you're playing, but it ends now. You need to leave, Mr. Evans. Before I make you leave."

Mr. Evans's eyes narrow, a cold, calculated glint replacing the once friendly twinkle. "Don't be ridiculous," he scoffs, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm merely here to congratulate Elle and see the baby. There's no need for such hostility."

He takes another step forward, his hand darting out to grab the edge of Miracle's blanket. I recoil, a gasp escaping my lips as I yank her away from his grasp. Christopher's arm shoots out, his hand clamping down on Mr. Evans's wrist in an iron grip.

"I won't tell you again," Christopher growls, his face mere inches from Mr. Evans's. "Get out. Now."

Mr. Evans wrenches his wrist out of Christopher's grasp, a snarl twisting his features. In a flash, he darts around the side of the bed, his eyes wild and desperate. I clutch Miracle tighter to my chest, my heart pounding in my ears as I try to scramble away.

Christopher lunges after him, but Mr. Evans is quicker. He reaches out again, his fingers clawing at the air as he tries to grab Miracle. And that's when I see it—the anchor tattoo on his wrist, stark black ink against pale skin.

The world seems to tilt on its axis, my breath catching in my throat as a sickening realization slams into me. That tattoo… it's the same one I saw that night in the woods, the night my world shattered into a million jagged pieces.

Memories come flooding back in a dizzying rush: the rough hands gripping my arms, the sour stench of alcohol on hot breath, the searing pain as my innocence was ripped away. And through it all, that anchor tattoo, a twisted mockery of hope and stability.

I let out a choked sob, my arms tightening around Miracle as I try to shield her from the monster before me. "It was you," I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of terror and rage. "You're the one who… who raped me."

Mr. Evans freezes, his eyes widening for a fraction of a second before a cold, cruel smile spreads across his face. "Took you long enough to figure it out, Elle," he sneers, his voice dripping with malice. "I always knew you were a smart girl."

Christopher's roar of fury fills the room as he tackles Mr. Evans to the ground, his fists flying in a blinding rage. The two men grapple on the floor, knocking over chairs and sending medical equipment clattering to the ground.

I'm frozen in horror, my mind reeling as I try to process the unthinkable truth. The man I trusted, the teacher I looked up to, the one who was supposed to guide and protect me… he was the one who shattered my world, who stole my innocence and left me broken.

Christopher pins Mr. Evans to the ground, his forearm pressed against the man's throat. "You sick bastard," he snarls, his voice shaking with barely contained rage. "I'll kill you for what you did to her."

Mr. Evans lets out a choked laugh, his eyes glinting with a twisted glee. "You can't protect her forever," he rasps, his words laced with venom. "She's mine, and so is that baby. You're just a temporary obstacle."

Christopher's face contorts with disgust and fury, his grip tightening on Mr. Evans's throat. But before he can act on his rage, the door bursts open and my dad walks into the room with Mason, Lane, and Reid behind him.

Their faces are etched with concern and confusion as they take in the chaotic scene before them. The once peaceful hospital room is now a mess of overturned chairs and scattered medical equipment, the air thick with tension and barely restrained violence.

Christopher has Mr. Evans pinned to the ground, his forearm pressed against the man's throat, a look of pure rage and disgust twisting his features. I'm huddled on the bed, clutching Miracle to my chest, my eyes wide with terror and disbelief as I struggle to process the unthinkable truth that has just been revealed.

"What the hell is going on here?" my dad demands, his voice booming through the room as he rushes to my side. He takes in my trembling form, the way I'm clinging to Miracle as if she's my only lifeline, and a flicker of fear crosses his face.

Mason and Reid move to Christopher's side, their postures tense and ready for action. Lane closes the door behind them, his eyes darting around the room, assessing the situation with the sharp instincts of a seasoned protector.

Christopher looks up, his eyes blazing with a fury I've never seen before. "This bastard," he snarls, pressing his forearm harder against Mr. Evans's throat, "is the one who raped Elle. He's been stalking her, and now he's after Miracle."

A collective gasp fills the room, a mix of shock, horror, and blinding rage. My dad's face drains of color, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Mason and Reid exchange a look of grim determination, their jaws set and eyes hardening with cold, lethal intent.

Lane steps forward, his voice low and sinister. "Is this true, Elle? Is he the one who hurt you?"

I nod, a choked sob escaping my lips as the truth spills out in a rush of anguished words. "I recognized his tattoo… the anchor on his wrist. It's the same one I saw that night in the woods. He's been playing us all along, pretending to be my teacher, my friend… but he's a monster."

My dad's face contorts with a rage I've never seen before, a fury so intense it seems to radiate from him in waves. He lunges forward, his hands reaching for Mr. Evans's throat, a growl of pure hatred tearing from his lips.

But Christopher stops him, his voice steady and controlled despite the storm of emotions raging within him.

Christopher's hand shoots out, grasping my dad's arm in a firm grip. "Wait," he says, his voice low and steady, cutting through the chaos like a knife. "We can't do this here. Not like this."

My dad whirls around, his eyes blazing with a fury that threatens to consume him. "Why the hell not?" he snarls, his voice trembling with rage. "This piece of filth deserves to die for what he did to my daughter!"

Christopher meets his gaze, his own eyes hardening with a cold, calculated determination. "I know," he says simply, his words measured and deliberate. "But if we do this here, now, it'll be too quick. Too easy. He doesn't deserve that mercy."

A heavy silence falls over the room, broken only by the ragged breaths of the men surrounding Mr. Evans's prone form. Christopher's words hang in the air, a dark promise of retribution yet to come.

"We take him to the basement," Christopher continues, his voice low and menacing. "There, we can take our time. Make him suffer in ways he never imagined possible. We'll break him, piece by piece, until he's begging for the sweet release of death."

A shiver runs down my spine at the cold, ruthless intensity in Christopher's voice.

My dad's face twists into a grim, satisfied smile, a spark of dark anticipation glinting in his eyes. "The basement," he echoes, nodding slowly.

Mason and Reid exchange a look of silent agreement, their postures relaxing slightly as they realize the situation is under control. Lane moves to the door, his hand resting on the handle as he prepares to ensure a clear path to the waiting vehicle outside.

Christopher leans down, his face mere inches from Mr. Evans's. "You hear that, you sick fuck?" he whispers, his words dripping with venom. "We're going to take our time with you. By the time we're done, you'll be begging for the mercy of a quick death. But we won't grant it. Not until you've experienced a fraction of the hell you put Elle through."

Mr. Evans's lips curl into a sickening smile, his eyes glinting with a crazed, obsessive light as he stares up at me from his pinned position on the floor. "You don't understand, do you?" he hisses, his voice dripping with a twisted, perverted affection. "Elle is mine. She's always been mine, from the moment I first laid eyes on her in my classroom."

He lets out a maniacal laugh, the sound echoing off the hospital room walls and sending chills down everyone's spines. "I watched her, day after day, as she sat in my class, so innocent and pure. I knew I had to have her, to possess her in every way possible."

I tremble on the bed, clutching Miracle tighter to my chest as tears stream down my face. Christopher's grip on Mr. Evans tightens, his knuckles turning white with the force of his rage.

"That night in the woods," Mr. Evans continues, his voice taking on a sickening, dreamy quality, "was just the beginning. The way she struggled, the way she cried out… it was exquisite. I savored every moment, every scream, every tear. It was a symphony of pain and pleasure, and I was the conductor." He licks his lips, his gaze roving over my body with a predatory gleam. "I couldn't get enough of her. I needed more. So, I followed her, watched her every move. I was there, in the shadows, always waiting for the perfect moment to strike again."

Mr. Evans's eyes flick to Miracle, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "And then she gave me the greatest gift of all. A child, a perfect blend of her beauty and my power. That baby is mine, just as Elle is mine. And I will have them both, no matter what it takes."

He strains against Christopher's hold, his face contorting with a manic determination. "You can't keep me from them forever. I'll find a way. I'll always find a way. Elle belongs to me, body and soul. And I will never stop until I possess every inch of her, until I've broken her completely and remade her in my image."

The room is silent, save for the ragged breaths of the men and my muffled sobs. Christopher's face is a mask of pure, unadulterated hatred, his body trembling with the effort to restrain himself from ending Mr. Evans's life right then and there.

"You're wrong," Christopher growls, his voice low and deadly. "Elle is not yours. She never was, and she never will be. You're nothing more than a delusional, sick monster who preys on the innocent. But your days of torment are over. We're going to make sure of that."

With a swift, brutal motion, Christopher slams his fist into Mr. Evans's face, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the hospital room. The force of the blow sends a shock wave up Christopher's arm, the delicate bones in his hand fracturing under the impact. But he barely registers the pain, his focus solely on the monster beneath him.

Mr. Evans's head snaps back, blood spraying from his shattered nose and split lip. His eyes roll back in their sockets, a gurgling moan escaping his throat as he teeters on the brink of unconsciousness. But Christopher isn't finished, not by a long shot.

He rains down blow after blow, his fists pummeling Mr. Evans's face and body with a relentless, savage fury. The once pristine hospital floor is soon slick with blood, the coppery scent mingling with the sterile odor of disinfectant. Christopher's knuckles split open, his own blood mixing with Mr. Evans's, but he doesn't stop, can't stop, until the monster is reduced to a broken, whimpering mess.

The room is silent save for the dull, rhythmic thud of knuckles meeting flesh and the ragged breaths of those in the room.

I’m in complete shock.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Christopher relents, his chest heaving with exertion, his hands dripping with blood. Mr. Evans lies motionless on the floor, his face a swollen, unrecognizable mess of bruises and lacerations. His chest rises and falls in shallow, labored breaths, the only sign that he still clings to life.

Christopher turns to face the others, his eyes wild and haunted, his face splattered with crimson droplets. "Get him out of here," he rasps, his voice raw and hoarse. "Take him to the basement. I'll be there soon."

Mason and Reid move forward, their expressions grim and determined as they haul Mr. Evans's limp form up from the floor. They drag him from the room, his feet trailing behind him, leaving a smeared trail of blood in their wake, down into the hospital hallway.

Christopher turns to look at me. I clutch my baby to my chest, horrified by what happened.

The fact that my teacher is the one that assaulted me, someone that I trusted and was a part of my life.

Christopher’s eyes soften as he takes in my trembling form and the way I clutch Miracle protectively to my chest. He takes a step toward the bed, his hands held out in a placating gesture, as if approaching a frightened animal.

"Elle," he says softly, his voice breaking with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that, to relive that nightmare.”

My lips are trembling like the rest of my body, tears streaming down my face as my dad comes over to take my baby from me and hold her.

I nod mutely, trying to process the shock and horror of the revelation. My mind reels with the knowledge that the man I trusted, the teacher I looked up to, was the monster who violated me in the most heinous way possible.

Christopher approaches the bed slowly, his arms outstretched, offering comfort and solace. I collapse into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as heart-wrenching sobs rack my body. His strong arms wrap around me, holding me close and enveloping me like a protective cocoon.

"Shh, it's okay, Elle. I've got you," Christopher murmurs, his voice low and soothing, like a balm to my shattered soul. "You're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore. I won't let anyone ever hurt you again."

His hand strokes my hair, fingers gently untangling the knots and smoothing the strands. The tender gesture, so filled with love and care, only makes me cry harder, my tears soaking through his shirt. But Christopher doesn't seem to mind, only holding me tighter, rocking me gently as he whispers words of comfort and reassurance.

"You're the strongest person I know, Elle," he says, his lips brushing against my temple. "You've survived so much, and you've come out the other side even more beautiful and resilient. I'm in awe of you, of your courage and your grace."

I cling to him, my fingers fisting in his shirt, anchoring myself to his solid presence. In his arms, I feel a glimmer of hope, a tiny spark of light in the darkness that threatens to consume me. Christopher is my rock, my safe haven, the one person who can chase away the shadows and make me believe in the possibility of a brighter future.

We stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms, the rest of the world falling away until it's just the two of us. Christopher's heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear, a soothing rhythm that gradually calms my racing pulse and eases the tightness in my chest.

When my sobs finally subside, Christopher gently cups my face in his hands, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are filled with a fierce, protective love, a love that I know will never waver, never falter, no matter what storms we may face.

He leans in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to my lips. It's a kiss filled with promise, with hope, with the unshakable belief that together, we can overcome anything. I melt into the kiss, pouring all my love into it.

When we finally break apart, Christopher rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with my own. "I love you, Elle," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world.

My heart aches at the words he said to me, about me and Miracle. “It’s hard to believe—it’s hard to believe that I never thought it could have been him until this moment. I feel like I’m a failure.”

“Listen to me, Elle," he says, his voice low and intense. "What happened to you was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. That monster took advantage of your trust, your innocence. He was your teacher, why would you suspect him?”

Oh my God, he killed all of those girls too? He is insane.

I nod, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks at the conviction in his words. "I know," I whisper, my voice hoarse and raw. "I know you'll keep us safe. But, Christopher, the things he said… about Miracle…" I trail off, a shudder running through me at the memory of Mr. Evans's twisted, possessive words.

Christopher's jaw clenches, a flicker of rage sparking in his eyes before he tamps it down, focusing all his attention on me. "Miracle is our daughter, Elle. Yours and mine. She will never be his, no matter what sick delusions he harbors. We will protect her, raise her in a home filled with love and joy and laughter. She will know nothing but happiness and security, I promise you that." He has a fierce glint in his eye as he looks at everyone in the room. “Let's get the fuck out of here and get you home.”