Loverboy (2 page)

             
Despite the aches and pains that are pulsing and throbbing, I pull the blanket up around my shoulders a bit tighter and close my eyes. I suddenly feel exhausted again. Apparently I’d just been through hell, and I looked like it too, so I didn’t see anything wrong with letting myself fall into a nice, deep sleep.

- 2 -

Nick

The Next Day

I didn’t expect to see Charlotte Murphy in such a bad state. After what she had just been through, though, she was very lucky to even be alive. But, the cuts, bruises, and swelling are a heart wrenching shock to see. I still haven’t spoken more than ten words to her. Not after I burst into her room last night just before she fell asleep again. And, even if I had, her memory was still incredibly fuzzy, more than likely from the amount of drugs and suffering her attacker had put her through. Up until now, she had no idea just what she’d lived through. She’d survived a brutal attack from one of the city’s most notorious serial killers. There have been five other victims, all just as beautiful and as talented as she. But sadly, all five had lost their
lives. Women in the city were dropping like flies, and we as police had no idea where to even begin! The killer left nothing, not one trace of evidence behind.

I let my feet kick out in front of me as I push my uncomfortable chair back onto its hind legs. I run my hands up my face and through my hair. I haven’t slept but a few short hours; just a short snooze here and there. Charlotte is the killer’s only survivor, and we are sure he’ll target her again to finish his business. That’s where I come in. To make sure that doesn’t happen. Right now, the worst thing in the world that we could do to her would be to leave her alone. And with me on the job, that will never happen. See, I’m just an
every
day patrol officer. But, that’s not what I really want. I want to climb the ladder and be somebody. Guarding Charlotte Murphy is my chance to show everyone how seriously I take my job, and just how good I am at doing it.

I throw my neck from one side to the other, making it crack loudly. Waiting is the hard part. Once she wakes up, I am supposed to finally introduce myself and ask her a few questions. I’m supposed to give her the run down about how she will have 24-hour police protection. But,
until she wakes up, here I sit, in the most uncomfortable chair I have ever sat in before, and wait. As luck would have it, I don’t have to wait long this morning. I don’t know which is worse, waiting or having to ask the poor girl to remember what she could.

I draw in one long deep breath as I stand up to stretch. A doctor and a nurse have both gone in her room to answer the call light that came from inside. I begin to pace the floor outside the room slowly. I don’t know why, but my nerves are in a tight ball, and for some reason, I feel as though it is a little personal. I take another long breath in and exhale slowly. I am sure I will be the next one to go in her room, and I’m not sure how either of us will handle that. The nurse and the doctor both leave the room quicker than I expect. The doctor is kind enough to let me know that she will see me now. I nod, and begin to slowly push open the door.

“Charlotte,” I say, keeping my voice as low as possible.

“It’s Charlie,” she replies back as I slide myself past the doorway and into the room.
             

She’s sitting up in bed, wrapped up in her sweats and blankets. Her eyes are bruised, with shades of black and blue framing them. There are large cuts; some with stitches, others with bandages all lining her face and neck. The only other skin revealed on her body, her hands, are in equal condition. Her right arm, having the IV running from it as various liquids are being pumped into her system. But, underneath the bruises, IV, bandages, and stitches is a beautiful young woman. Her skin is a soft ivory
,
that, without the marks, would probably be flawless. Though I can’t make out the color, her eyes are lighter, brighter, and seem to glow. Her hair is a warm honey color that, despite being a tad messy, is still shiny and near perfect as it sits on top of her head in an up do that’s beginning to fall around her face.

“Hi,” I say, swallowing hard.

“Hi,” she says, and I can immediately tell she’s forcing herself to be friendly. I don’t blame her. A man isn’t exactly the best for a job like this.

“I’m Nick Andrews; I was sent here...”

She immediately interrupts to nod her head. “I know.”

“Is there anything I can get you, Charlotte?” I ask.

“It’s Charlie,” she says again as she pushes a large gob of hair from her eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“Charlie; everyone calls me Charlie,” she explains. “Call me Charlie.”

I nod. “Alright, Charlie; call me Nick.”

She looks up at me, finally meeting my eyes for the first time. Her eyes are large and blue. I can see that tears are very visibly beginning to fill them. She sniffles and dabs at her eye. “Nick?”

I nod. “Family name,” I say, pulling a chair next to her bed, “After my uncle on my father’s side.”

She nods and carefully brushes a tear away that has dribbled down her cheek, “So, why did they send you?”

I never expected her to be blunt.

“Unfortunately, we really don’t have many ladies at the department,” I explain, “and, my boss just thought I would be the easiest to talk to.”

Her eyes meet mine again, and she purses her lips that I can see have tiny cuts lining them. “Can I honestly trust you?”

I nod. “Of course.” I add, “I wouldn’t make you say anything that you’re not comfortable with, either.”

“How do they expect me to talk to someone that I don’t even know?” She asks.

“Good point,” I say. “I’m Nicholas Christopher Andrews; I am twenty-five years old. My mom is Diane, and my dad is Gerald. We’re from Maine. I have four younger sisters. They call me the pretty boy at the department, which I hate. Um,” I take a deep breath in and release. “I love dogs; my apartment is usually a mess. But, I love being lazy.” I reach behind me and dig my wallet from my pocket, where I fish out my driver’s license to pass to her. “I really hate that picture; I hadn’t had a haircut.”

I watch her as she carefully reaches forward, but then she hesitates. I can tell she’s scared to death. Not just of me, but of everything. She’s unsure, uneasy, and it’s a heartbreaking sight to see. Even for a guy like me. It’s
been a while since I’ve seen an expression quite like this, and it never gets easier.

“It’s okay,” I reassure her.

She finally takes it and glances down. “Twenty-five, huh?” She asks.

I nod.

She looks up at me and studies me carefully. “You look nineteen.”

“Some guys have all the luck, you know?” I say, as she extends my ID back to me.

“So, I’m guessing you want to know what I can remember?” She asks.

I nod. “I just want to see if you remember anything new, or anything at all for that matter.”

She nods. “I understand.” She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a few deep breaths. “I remember that I was at a friend’s party. When things weren’t going as planned, I left early.” She takes another long breath. “I remember I walked, since I walk everywhere. I had decided to cut through Central Park.”

I can see that she’s beginning to obviously struggle as her eyelids start to flutter and her hands give a little twitch. “It’s okay, Charlie, you can go slowly. Take your time.”

She nods. “I had cut through the park, because I love it. I never thought that anything like this would happen. I remember this guy; he grabbed me,” she says, her voice growing softer.

“Can you remember where he took you?” I ask.

She gives her head a shake. “Just that it was cold; very cold and dark.” She finally opens her eyes and looks at me. “I was on the floor. It was like a basement with windows that were up high.”

“That’s good,” I say. “That’s great, Charlie; anything else?”

She gives her head another shake, “Nothing yet. So far, that’s all I remember. I don’t remember when he…” She stops suddenly.             

I can tell she’s beginning to struggle once more. There’s pain in her eyes and face. She looks lost,
heartbroken, and completely down. I feel horrible for her, and find myself choking back a few tears of my own for some reason. “It’s okay,” I say, “best to take it slow anyway. It makes it easier to remember everything. But, what you just remembered is great. We can use that.”

She finally let out a smile. “Think you’ll find him?”

“I know we will,” I say. “It just takes time.”

She nods. “I know that you’ll be here while I’m in the hospital,” she says, “but what happens when I go home?”

Home. I don’t blame her for wondering about that. She may not know what she’s lived through just yet, but she knows enough to be frightened. Luckily for her, the police department has come up with a clever tactic to make her feel at ease on her road to recovery. I clear my throat one more time and take a breath. 

“Well, I’m sure we’ll send police protection to your house,” I tell her. “We want you to be comfortable; heal at your own pace. Being in your own home should offer you some comfort.” She makes a strange face. It is an odd situation. Not one that the police would normally use. But, when we have a survivor as delicate as Charlie, we want
to cater to her every need. Many counselors believe that being in her own home will help her. In my own opinion, they’re right. Who could heal completely if we stuck her in some hotel, surrounded constantly by police? I give her a wide smile. “Look at it like having your own personal body guard.”

She leans back into her bed. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

I nod, standing and straightening my uniform. “I’ll leave you to get some rest, but I’ll be just outside. Let me know if you can remember anything else.”

She nods as I see myself out the door. Hopefully, over time, things will be easier for her.

- 3 -

Charlie

It has been a long week. Long, tiring, and draining while trying to remember, trying to heal, trying to live in general. It’s not every day that you’re kidnapped by one of the current most wanted serial killers. A serial killer that, after months of tracking, finally had a name; Loverboy. Just thinking about the name makes me sick to my stomach. I still haven’t regained much of my memory; just a few tidbits here and there. Not enough to catch Loverboy, like I had hoped.

And, after spending a week in the hospital, many of my wounds are on the mend enough for the doctor to feel as though releasing me is the best idea. I feel safer in the hospital. I can’t imagine how being home is going to make me feel. At least here I have Nick right outside the
door, and he isn’t about to let anyone pass without a thorough questioning, which I am eternally grateful for. But, home? My apartment is small, big enough for just me, but lonely, too lonely, and certainly not as safe as I like it. Though it’s a secure building, there’s not much protection. I don’t have a gun; I don’t own a tazer. I let out a breath as I feel the fear wash over me. I don’t want to be alone, and I’m not ready for it.

I remember Nick had mentioned about having protection at my home, but that was the last I heard of any protection. Now, here I am, slowly dressing as I fight through the surges of aches and pains. I am lucky that a good friend stopped by my apartment and brought me some of my own clothes and shoes. I can’t describe just how good it feels to put on my own fabric softener scented clothes. That seems to be enough to ease my mind for now as I take another deep breath. I carefully layer a few tank tops and gingerly pull the open sweater around me. I take another look at myself in the mirror. Though on the mend, the cuts and bruises are certainly all visible. A few of them even had the stitches removed. I still can’t help but wonder how many of them will leave scars. I blow a tuft of hair from my eyes and begin brushing my
hair back. No sense in worrying; I am alive. I pull my thick gob of blonde hair into a pony tail. I sigh deeply when the knock at the door makes me jump. That part still hasn’t gotten easier. It seems that even the slightest noise can make me jump now.

“Charlie?” I can hear Nick’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Yeah?” I answer, sliding into my slip-on UGGs.

“Is everything okay?” He asks.

I nod, stepping out of the small bathroom and open the door all the way. “I’m fine, just getting dressed. You can come in.” As horrible as my ordeal has been and as awkward as I have been around men, Nick is completely different. After having spent a week with him, I am beginning to warm up to him. I am almost sad to be out of his protection.

“I have good news.” He smiles.

“They caught him?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I wish I could tell you that, but no; I’ve actually been ordered to accompany you home
and be your live in body
guard.”

“Really?” I ask. For some reason, some part of me swells with happiness and relief. I feel a little of the fear I had been carrying around lift off my shoulders. At least now, I know that I won’t be going home alone. And that
,
is the biggest relief yet.

He nods again. “They figured since you have been doing so well with me, it wouldn’t work out to change things around, and everyone thinks that your recovery will go smoother at your home.”

I nod. “I’m sure they’re right.” I take a seat on the bed that I’d just spent a week in. They may be right, but it doesn’t make it less scary for me. Honestly, I’m so scared right now, I can barely stand up, and if I do, I want to curl up in a ball and never move. I take a few breaths that ease me back into a relaxed state.              

“Is everything okay?” He asks, closing the door behind him.
             

“It’s just,” I pause. Suddenly I feel the fear creeping back up my body. It seems as quickly as I can suppress the fear it can come right back within seconds.
I bite down on my lip. I’m not sure where to go from here. I’ve survived; I lived, but what happens next? How do you really continue to live after this? How do you carry on after some man…I force myself to stop as I feel my body starting to shake. “I haven’t been home in a while. I’m not sure how it’ll feel to be there. I’m not even sure I can sleep, let alone keep living after this.”

He cocks his head to the side. I can tell that he is reading me, studying me. His lips pout for a moment, then part as he begins to speak. “I believe you will. And, I'll be right with you; not much can get past me.”

I let my shoulders drop and I take a nice long breath. I look back up at him. It’s clear that he’s exhausted. His hair is a mess and his beautiful green eyes now have dark circles lining the bottom. It’s funny… I think now is the first time that I’ve truly looked at him and paid attention. For the first time, I’m seeing him out of uniform: instead, he’s in jeans and a tee shirt. My guess would be to seem natural taking me to my apartment. His hair is a hybrid brown-blonde that has a golden shine. He seems taller to me now, with a muscular build and chiseled features. It’s obvious that being in the hospital with me hasn’t given him much time for grooming, as his face is covered in scruff, unlike the first night I met him. His eyes look as though they’re just begging for sleep. Poor guy; makes me feel bad for him.

He
purses his lips for a moment. “Why don’t we get you home? You’ll probably feel better the minute you step inside.”

“What?” I ask. “Right now?” I can feel my heart beginning to pound in my chest. I didn’t realize I would have to go home so soon. Now? I can’t go home now.

He nods. “It is okay, Charlie. I’ll be right there with you.”

I shake my head. “I really don’t know if I can do this, Nick.”

“You can do this,” he says. “Look at you, you got away. You fought and you got away. Surely you can find the strength to go back into your own home.”

I shake my head. “Not after this.”

“You can. And, I’m going to do it with you.”

I feel a wave of nausea wash over me, and I take a good breath in. I finally look up and nod. “Fine, let’s get me home.”

He smiles and opens the door for me.

It really is an odd situation to be in. And one that I never guessed I would ever be in. After packing the rest of my belongings and being given more than enough prescriptions to last a few months, it’s been explained to me, yet again, that Nick has been ordered to be as covert as he can. Apparently, they think I’ll forget everything, because for the twentieth time I’ve been told that Nick will accompany me home; he will live there secretly as protection. A move that is supposed to aide in my recovery. It’s firmly believed that keeping me in a comforting environment, such as my home, will ease my healing. I’ve been told that I can come and go as I please, Nick will join me, and to not be frightened to simply carry on with life. It certainly seems easier said than done. My body may very well be healing, but as for my head and my heart, I’m not so sure. Nick is trying to explain to me that he’ll spend most of the time in civilian clothes. Even though the killer will probably guess I’ll have protection, we want it to seem as natural as possible. It’s difficult to comprehend a word he’s really saying as he’s guiding me down the hallways of the hospital. I pull my sweater tightly around my body and cross my arms in front of me as we pass a few nurses that give me that heartbroken look. I know how I look, and I know how I feel, but when people look at me like that it just makes me feel even worse. I feel tears beginning to fill my eyes as we near the elevator. I feel my lips quiver as I fight to swallow both my tears and my fears.

I feel his hand come down lightly on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I snap my eyes to meet his, and think for a minute. Am I okay? Am I okay? I am physically. I’m alive, but mentally I’m having a slight breakdown. I haven’t been outside of this hospital in a week. I feel safe and sheltered in here. Now, I’m about to face the world with the help of one single cop.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” I hear him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I give him a nod, and somehow I know that he’s telling the truth. I swallow hard as he jabs the ‘down’ button on the elevator. Maybe once I’m home it will feel completely different. I feel my mind return to it
’
s haze, as Nick explains to me we’re allowed to take his personal vehicle. I suppose, as peculiar as this entire situation is, I’d rather go home in a normal truck than a police cruiser. I let out a sigh and try to give him a nod to signal that I’m half paying attention to him. I am. Well, I’m trying to anyway as the elevator doors open with a light ding.

If I thought that walking through the hospital was quite emotional, being outdoors is just plain mentally straining. I find myself fighting a wave of emotions, tears, and panic attacks as I hear Nick’s voice try to calm me. But as he pulls into the crumbling parking lot to my building, I can’t help but feel terror wash over me. Even though I wasn’t taken at home, I can’t help but to feel as though
Loverboy is there, in some dark corner, just watching me. I take a deep breath, and we both get out of his truck simultaneously. I finally have my first moment of reassurance when I dig my keys out of my pocket. The building where I live is secure. The main front door inside the building is locked 24 hours a day, only tenants, and now the police, have a key. But, I can’t help but to pause as I hold the key at the door.

I feel Nick’s hand drop softly on top of mine. “He’s not in there.”

I force a nod. “I know.” I jam the key into the lock and twist. The door unlocks with a click, and I slowly push it open. Nick shuts the door behind us, and immediately the lock slams back into place with a loud clicking noise.

He looks down at me for a moment. “What floor?”

“Second,” I tell him as we make our way up stairs.

I can feel my legs become wobbly with each and every step we take upward. My ultimate fear is that he’s found me and when I turn my lights on, I’ll feel those arms clamp around me, making it impossible to move or get away. I take a long, slow breath as I fumble with the rest of my keys.

I feel Nick’s hands on mine again as he takes the keys from me. I look up to see a crooked but reassuring smile. “Which one?”

I point to the larger gold one, and wrap my arms tightly around me.

He unlocks the door, pushing it open slowly. A soft breeze wafts under my nose. It still smells the same; warm vanilla and spices. Various fragrances I’d placed throughout my tiny apartment that made it smell like ‘home’ to me. We walk in slowly, and I realize that I’ve forgotten to turn off my table light next to the couch. I sigh deeply, seeing it’s completely empty and everything the same as before I left. I hear the door shut and lock behind me. I turn around to find him still watching me contently.

I smile. “I only have one bedroom, and you’re more than welcome to it.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’ll sleep much better in your own bed. I’ll be more than happy on the floor.”

I point over to my couch. “I have a couch; you can sleep there if you’d like.”

He nods. “Perfect.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but
how exactly does this work?”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I mean, you just basically live here, right?”

He nods. “And make sure you’re protected. This guy is ruthless and, unfortunately, we have no idea what he’s capable of. They figured low-key is best, and they wanted you to be comfortable as well. You’re probably most comfortable here in your own home.” I know he’s repeated this to me several times, but who would ever think that they would find themselves in a situation like this.

I nod. “I see, so can I get you anything? Coffee?”

He shakes his head again. “You get settled, and I’ll be fine.”

“Settled...” I say. “Right.” I look around, unsure of what to do. Finally, I look back at Nick. “I’m just going to take a shower.”

He nods. “Okay, I’ll just be out here.”

I scurry past him and reach for the television remote. “Here,” I say, passing it to him. “For the TV; feel free to help yourself in the kitchen, too.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

I turn slowly and head to where my bedroom is. I pull another set of clean clothes from my closet, a few more tank tops to layer and another open sweater, this one larger. I take a careful look around my bedroom, just to make sure nothing has fallen mysteriously out of place, before I head down the hallway to the bathroom. I turn the water on and wait until it creates steam in the tub, then I carefully pull the silver plug to make the water spew from the shower head. I slowly undress and climb in, letting the scalding water run down and all over my body. I groan softly as a few of the cuts become tender under the hot water. I reach for my shower gel from its usual place in my shower and begin scrubbing my body up and down, making sure not to miss an inch. I scrub hard enough to make my skin glow red, as though I could simply wash the horrible cuts and bruising away; as though I could wash Loverboy away. The light knock at the door makes me jump.

I take a deep breath, and then poke my head from
behind the shower curtain. “Yeah?”