Freak of Nature - By Julia Crane Page 0,47
time.
In her mind, she watched herself cross Washington Blvd, the main street of her town. She’d done it a thousand times over her lifetime. She paused at the center line, waiting for a car to pass. A truck: Mr. Freeman from the bakery smiled and waved from the drivers seat. She hurried across the street and turned down Lance Drive, a side street that would get her home faster. It was a moonless night, and the streetlights gave off an eerie glow. That’s when she heard it: a woman screaming, begging for someone to stop.
In her memory, Kaitlyn froze, then jumped to action. Whipping out a cell phone, she dialed nine-one-one and in a hushed voice told the operator a woman was being attacked. She gave the street, and clicked off the line. Kaitlyn ran up the hill in the direction of the screams which had softened into muffled whimpers.
She spun around, searching. It took her a few moments to realize the sounds were coming from behind a large dumpster. Kaitlyn gasped when she saw a man on top of a woman, her clothes were ripped and face bloody. The man was too intent on the woman to notice Kaitlyn approaching.
She glanced around, searching for something to use as a weapon. A metal pole was sticking out of the dumpster, so she pulled it out, trying to be quiet. Kaitlyn grasped the pole like a baseball bat and swung as hard as she could at the man’s back.
“What the hell?” he screamed slumped forward grabbing his back.
“Help me,” the woman said, mascara running down her cheeks. “Please.”
“Get off her, you asshole.” Kaitlyn’s hands shook as she held the metal weapon.
The guy ignored her and kept slamming himself into the defenseless woman as if having Kaitlyn watching turned him on even more.
“Get off her!” She drew back again and smashed him on the head.
That caught his attention. He jerked up, stumbling away from the prone woman. “Bitch.” Blood trickled down the side of his face. He pulled his jeans up, but left himself hanging out.
Kaitlyn spared a look at the woman; she was frozen in fear.
The man turned and faced Kaitlyn, completely exposing himself. He grabbed himself, and yelled, “You want some of this?”
Kaitlyn refused to look down. She swung, but the man blocked it and grabbed the pole from her. Kaitlyn took off in a sprint, but he was faster.
He tackled her to the ground and pushed his pants down. His naked body pressed to hers. Her face was shoved into the pavement. “You like it rough? I’ll give you rough.”
He roughly rolled her around and climbed on top of her.
“No!” Kaitlyn screamed, shoving a hand in his face.
He grabbed her arms and pinned her down, then punched her in the face. “Not so tough now, are you?”
He paused as sirens wailed outside the alley.
“I called the cops, jackass,” Kaitlyn spat.
He jumped to his feet, pulled up his jeans and kicked her several times in the side. Searing pain shot through Kaitlyn, sending black spots across her vision. He jerked her to her feet, and she lashed out, scratching his face.
The man howled. “You stupid bitch!”
He shoved her hard, throwing her to the ground. Her head slammed against the sidewalk. Everything started to fade, and the last thing she saw was a bright white light.
The next thing in Kaitlyn’s memories was her eyes fluttering open and seeing Lucas’s exhausted eyes staring at her by her hospital bed.
So that was how she had died.
“She’s awake!” he yelled.
Nurses and doctors. Then several flashes of Lucas reading to her, helping her walk, and brushing her hair. He really was with her the whole time…
Kaitlyn shook her head as the memories came to an end, and she could hear movement. She didn’t know how long she’d been stopped, but at least she was hidden in the shadows.
Shaken to the core by the return of her memories, she shook her head, trying to regain momentum. She needed to keep moving or they would close in on her soon.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucas looked up from his computer, as if he had been concentrating on something important, when Harrington stormed into the room. The man’s face was dark red, a vein pulsed on his forehead, and he had balled his hands into fists. The door slammed behind him. “How the hell did this happen?”
“It was always a risk,” Lucas said evenly, carefully composing his face into a calm expression. “Why else would we have armed guards and have kept