Escaping Memories Page 2

  Instead of jumping back like she expected him to do, he jumped forward, landing on top of her. Her head hit the bottom of the toilet with a soft thud as he pressed his weight over her body and pinned her arms to her sides.

  "What the hell is the matter with you?" Logan asked with a ragged breath, trying to keep most of his weight off her, but enough to keep her pinned down without attacking him.

  "Get off me!" she screamed.

  "No. You attacked me. For no damn reason, I might add. Who are you?"

  "I don't have to tell you. Get off me."

  Logan inhaled a patient breath. "I am not releasing you until you tell me who you are and what the hell you're doing in my cabin?"

  "Your cabin?"

  "Yeah. Trying to start my vacation out right and it's been shit from the get-go. I can't take much more. Now I'm going to repeat it one more time, nicely, what are you doing in my cabin?"

  "Nicely? You're pinning me to the floor. I wouldn't exactly call that nicely," she said with a strained breath.

  "Well, you attacked me first. How can I be that nice if I have no idea if you're going to kick me again? Are you going to kick me again?" Logan asked, trying to relieve a little more of his weight off her, but still maintaining a good grip on her arms.

  "Are you going to hurt me again?" she countered.

  "What are you talking about? I never hurt you to begin with. You kicked me first."

  "You're hurting me now. Your hands...they hurt where you're holding me," she whispered in pain, unable to hold it in any longer.

  He looked down where he held her wrists and let go without issue. He made no move to lift his body off hers, though. He still didn't trust her not to kick him.

  "I'm sorry. My intention was never to hurt you. You were kicking at me. Now, please. What are you doing in my cabin?" Logan asked with a soft voice.

  "I don't know."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know."

  "Work with me here. I don't want to hold you down. But I want answers."

  "Why should I tell you anything? Get off me. Maybe I will."

  Logan leaned down to get a closer look at her face, seeing a few faint scratches littered over her cheeks and forehead. "You will tell me. I'm not getting off you until you do."

  "Who made you the boss?" she said, trying not to show fear as he came closer.

  "I'm the sheriff. Doesn't get much bossier than that. Now who the hell are you?" Logan said, his tone issuing no argument.

  "I don't know."

  "I swear..."

  "I don't say that to be smart. I truly don't know. I have no idea where I am. I found this cabin and the door was open..." she paused, the horror of everything entering her mind, making her body tremble beneath his. "I don't know who I am. I can't remember anything."

  Chapter 2

  Logan's body jerked from that admission, quickly moving off her and back towards the door. "Let's start over. And I sure in the hell hope the bathroom light works. I can't take much more."

  Logan found the light switch with ease and flicked it up. The bright lights pinned his eyes in a glare for a brief moment, until he adjusted them enough to get a good look at the woman. She sat up, scooting hard against the toilet. He tried hiding his flinch as he took a good long look at her. Her hair was matted, twisted in knots, snarls, and a few twigs and leaves covering about. Her face, as he originally thought, was covered in scratches, nicks, and a few smears of blood. Her clothes, if one could call the rags she wore clothes, hung from her body loosely. He assumed at one time, maybe a bright white dress, now dark gray with holes sprinkled around, the edges tattered and more leaves clinging around the drab outfit. She wrapped her arms tightly against her stomach, making it difficult to see much, but he saw the scratches, the bruises. She also tucked her legs underneath her body, not giving much of a view. He didn't need to see. He could discern enough from what he already saw.

  "I'm not going to hurt you. I swear. I'm Sheriff Logan Caldwell. We're in Lucky, Minnesota. Do you know the town?" Logan asked, staying near the door. He could see the fear in her eyes, yet he had felt her bravery.

  "No."

  "What's the last thing you remember?"

  "I don't know."

  Logan ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep an amiable expression on his face. "What's your favorite color?"

  She burrowed her brows in confusion. "I don't know."

  "You remember absolutely nothing? Where you're from or anything at all about yourself? Am I understanding you clearly?"

  "Yes."

  Logan nodded, at a loss for words. He'd seen plenty in his life, but he had never come across this before. Memory loss—of everything.

  "Can I come closer? Can I take a look at some of your injuries? I can see you're hurt. I want to make sure nothing requires immediate attention. I should've thought of that right away."

  She leaned inward, trying to ward off any potential touch from him. "I'm fine."

  A small corner of his mouth turned up with amusement. "Fine, huh? You're covered in scratches, bruises, blood, and who knows what else. You don't look fine to me. I said I wouldn't hurt you and I mean it. I just want to help. Let me help." His last words came out rough as he ran another hand through his hair.

  "Why do you care? Just leave."

  "Let's get something straight here. I'm not leaving. This is my cabin, and if anyone's leaving, it's you. Not to mention, I'm the sheriff. It's my job to help people. I already managed to fail to do that this morning, so I'm not failing now. If you won't let me look, then I'll just call the damn doctor," Logan said, frustrated by the whole day.

  He turned to leave when she sputtered, "Please don't!"

  He glanced back at her as she stood up slowly, barely managing the feat without cringing in pain, and took a seat on the toilet. He almost wanted to laugh, but held his face as neutral as possible. He wondered if she knew the lid was already down or not. He imagined it would have given her additional pain to fall butt first into the toilet.

  "Maybe it's best if a doctor has a look. I'm no doctor. The fact you can't remember anything is very concerning," he said.

  "I'm embarrassed as it is. If you want to look to make yourself happy, then look. I don't want to see a doctor. I won't," she said, and went back to wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

  "Don't be embarrassed. I'm sure it's not your fault for whatever happened to you," Logan said, stepping closer to her, limping a little as he did. He chose to ignore the refusal on seeing a doctor for the moment. He needed her to stay calm and cooperative with him.

  "But you don't know that. I could've asked for it."

  Logan knelt down in front of her, getting close to her face as he placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Nobody asks for this. Have you even looked down at your body? I'm afraid to even see what's underneath this rag."

  She turned her head away at his touch. "Embarrassed...scared. Is there a difference?"

  "Yes, there is. I won't hurt you," he said, as he softly reached for her arm, almost prying it away from her waist. He cringed when he saw the deep bruises circling her wrist. The scratches, nicks, and tiny abrasions covering her body said nothing like the bruises covering her wrist did.

  When he made no move to do anything else but stare, she glanced back at him. "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to rack my brain who would restrain a beautiful, innocent woman like you," he replied, in a barely audible voice.

  "I'm not beautiful," she whispered, feeling the dirt and grime that coated her body.

  He reached for her other arm, gently holding that one in front of him, the same deep bruises marring that wrist as well. "Beauty isn't always what you see on the outside, sweetheart."

  "That makes no sense. You just met me. You barely know me. I...I wish I could remember who I am."

  "I wish you could, too. I would love nothing better than to jack the bastard up who hurt you like this."

  "Is it normal for the sheriff to jack som
eone up?" she asked.

  He flickered a look to her face, seeing the corner of her mouth tipping up. "No. But I've had a shitty day. I think I deserve to give a little ass whooping...sheriff or not."

  She made no response except to lift her mouth a little higher. He gave a weak smile in return as he went back to perusing her body. He wasn't comfortable just whipping off the rags she wore, so he ventured a look at her legs. More bruises of varying sizes with more scratches and abrasions covering her legs. He saw blood peeking between her toes. He let go of her arms as he reached for her foot, scooting back a bit as he lightly lifted for a better look. He grimaced in horror, unable to hide it as he saw the tender part of her foot, bleeding with cuts and bruises, a few pebbles and splinters still imbedded on her sole. He gently lowered her foot, having no need to see the other and scooted closer to her again.

  "What do you remember?" He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. "And I don't want to hear, I don't know. How did you find my cabin?"

  She stared at his hand for the longest time, mesmerized by the size of it. He had large hands, delicate even, for a man. She saw no nail peek up from the tops of his finger, his palm facing towards her, and just assumed he clipped his nails regularly. Or was he a nail-biter?

  "Darling, talk to me. Please," he whispered, as he lowered his hand and left them both by his sides.

  She watched as he did, wondering if that meant he was finished looking for injuries on her body. She had enjoyed his touch. He had been gentle, calming the pain that littered her body. Even thinking of when he straddled her body when she attacked him, he had been gentle, keeping his heavy weight from crushing her.

  "I don't know..." She put her hand up this time to stop him from interrupting. "It's so easy to say that because when you don't know your own name, what else can you say?"

  "Just take your time. We'll figure this out. But I need to know what you do remember. Or is kicking me in the knee the first thing you remember," he asked with a short grin.

  "I'll have you know, you kicked me first."

  "I did not."

  "Yes, Sheriff, you did. I felt a shoe wedge in my leg, jolting me out of...the blackness, and I kicked you back in defense."

  He sighed heavily, thinking back when he first walked into the bathroom. "Okay, I concede. When you put it that way, I kicked you first, but I didn't know you were on my bathroom floor. It was dark and I never expected someone to be lying on my floor. That wasn't an intentional kick...that was an accident. I'm sorry if I contributed to any additional pain you may be experiencing."

  "You didn't," she replied with another weak smile. "The only thing I remember is waking up in the dark, trees towering over me. My mind was blank. I could barely function because...I just felt this blinding terror...no idea of what was going on. I got up and just started walking. After a short while, I saw this cabin. The door was unlocked...and...and I don't know, I just stumbled around until I fell. I guess I blacked-out or something."

  "Okay. That's good. That's a start. We'll figure this out."

  "You sound so sure."

  "Well, I have to be sure, otherwise I'll get angry in front of you. You don't want to see that, do you?"

  A small sound, almost like a laugh, escaped her lips. "I can't picture you angry over anything."

  "Hmm...well, I have my moments," he said with a small chuckle. His smile dimmed as he glanced at her wrists. "It looks like you were restrained. We should still get you to the doctor. You have a lot of small injuries that I can see. Probably more that I can't."

  A sudden overwhelming fear came over her. She pulled her arms around her chest and cowered away from him. "Please, Sheriff, please. I don't want to."

  "Hey, honey, it's okay. It's okay," he whispered, grabbing for her arms. He gently loosened her grip, pulling her arms to rest lightly onto her lap. He caressed her arms soothingly until he landed on her hands. He wrapped his larger hands over her small, bruised, dainty hands, and gave another heavy sigh. He had no idea why he felt the need to touch her, to offer any sort of comfort. He could tell she was frightened. She probably didn't even want him touching her, yet, she made no move to pull away from him.

  "You're hurt. In a lot of places. Your feet...I have no idea how you even walked. What happens...what happens..." he cleared his throat, unable to finish his sentence.

  She stared, fascinated at his hands holding hers. She could stare at his hands all day, the sheer size of them, the softness that wrapped around her fingers. So relaxing. She knew they were large when she stared earlier, but now she knew how truly large they were. "What happens, what? What are you trying to say?"

  "What happens if you were touched in an unwanted manner?"

  Her hands started to shake, his grip tightening at the motion. "You mean raped?" she whispered, just barely.

  "Yes," he whispered back.

  Suddenly, her hands stopped shaking. "I hurt in a lot of places, Sheriff. But not there. I can't explain the reason, but I don't think that happened to me."

  "But you don't know—"

  "Please, Sheriff. I don't want to see a doctor. Please."

  "Can you call me Logan? Sheriff sounds so official," he said, offering another gentle smile.

  "Well, you are asking questions and wanting me to go to a doctor in the official capacity."

  "True, but I'd still feel better if you called me Logan instead." He waited for a response, getting a nod of her head as his answer. "Why don't you want to see a doctor?"

  "I don't know."

  "That's becoming your favorite saying. Can you pick a new one?" he asked with a light teasing tone.

  "I'm just scared. You say doctor and my insides cringe with fear," she said, shaking at just the thought.

  "Are you scared of me, too?" he asked, almost pulling his hands away from her when she finally held his hands back with a painful squeeze.

  "No. You calm me. You have a very gentle touch. Even when you manhandled me," she said with a bit of laughter in her eyes.

  "I did not manhandle you. I was trying to thwart any further kicking. But I'm glad I didn't hurt you because that was never my intention."

  "I know. I'm sorry for kicking you."

  "Don't be. You have every right to defend yourself." He looked down at their hands. She still gripped him tightly, making him wonder why she felt the need to hold his hands with such intensity. "Well, if you won't go to the...you know where...then let me help you. We need to clean these wounds. I don't want you developing an infection of some kind. Just let me help you somehow."

  "You really have this need to help."

  "I do. Today, more than any other day," he said, somewhat solemnly.

  "Why?"

  He glanced up at her, the torture clear in his eyes. "It wasn't a good day. Let's just leave it at that."

  "Okay. I feel dirty...I am dirty. I want to...wash off. I don't think I can stand in a shower," she said lightly.

  "No, I imagine you can't. I'll start you a bath. I'll grab you a towel and some of my clothes for now. When you're done, I can help put some salve on some of these wounds. How about that, sweetheart?"

  She nodded, unable to say anything else. His soft touch and soothing words made it unnecessary to say anything else. He gave a deep smile, the first one of the night, and gently released her hands. He stood up, went to the tub turning it on and found the right temperature, then turned the plug closed.

  He gave her another smile and dipped outside of the bathroom, coming back a few seconds later. "Here's a towel. I'll let you take a bath. Just holler if you need me. Do you need help...a...getting in?" Logan asked as he hung up the towel near the tub.

  "No. Thank you...Logan."

  He nodded and started to walk out when he turned around. "Light bulbs. The living room light is out." He opened the cabinet door underneath the sink, eyeing his other box of light bulbs, and smiled happily when he saw it was full. "Bathroom's all yours."

  He stood up, walked out, closing the door as he did. He took a
deep breath and decided to tackle changing the light bulb first. He needed something to occupy his mind other than the injured woman in his bathroom. No memory, bruised body...those wrists.

  He pulled his phone out, switching the flashlight function on and placed it on the table for enough light to see what he was doing. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and shoved it underneath the light fixture hanging in the middle of the room. He placed one foot on the chair and grimaced in pain when he stepped up with his other leg. His knee almost buckled as the pain flowed up his leg.

  He quickly went about the task of changing the light bulb, almost done screwing the glass fixture back on, when he heard a scream. He scrambled down the chair, rushing to the bathroom. He threw open the door to see his mystery woman lying on the floor, naked, and crying.

  "Hey, honey, what happened? Are you okay?" Logan said tenderly as he helped her sit up, trying not to stare at all the wounds covering her body. So many it tore at his heart.

  "I managed to get my dress off...it hurt raising my arms, but I did it. But when I went to stand, my feet gave out," she said through the tears streaming down her face.

  "I'll help you. It's going to be okay. I promise." He didn't even think about what he was doing. He bent down, carefully putting his arms underneath her, and lifted her up as he heard her painful intake of breath. "I didn't make the water too warm, but it may still sting a little. Some of your wounds are fresh."

  She nodded into his chest, grabbing a fist full of his shirt. "I'm scared."

  "Please don't be. I won't hurt you, I swear."

  "That's not what I meant," she whispered, still refusing to release the grip on his shirt.

  He wanted to put her in the bath, but he was afraid she wouldn't let go. "What did you mean?"

  "I don't know."

  "We gotta work on that, sweetheart. This 'I don't know' business," he said with a soft laugh. "Let's get you clean."

  He bent down onto his knees, quite awkwardly as she grabbed a hold of him tighter. "You have to let go so I can put you in the bathtub. I won't look."

  "You already saw me when you busted in the bathroom," she whispered into his chest.