The White Robe Chapter 30
#21 of The White Robe
Caitlin's Salvation.
The world exploded in pain once again as Sinclair's hand connected with Caitlin's face. She curled herself into a ball on the grass and tried to bring her hands up to cover her head against the onslaught. The orange light of the courtyard illuminated everything in the night with its eerie glow and she shut her eyes against it, trying to block out what was happening.
It had only been a few hours that she'd been left alone, and then Sinclair had come through the door. He was dressed in his uniform, but he didn't have his belt with him. There was nothing on him that she could grab or otherwise use to defend herself, and she knew that he'd planned it that way. Everything about the way that he was doing things spoke to him being proficient at taking advantage of the condemned.
As she pulled her hands up to shield her head, she felt Sinclair's hands on the collar of the robe, pulling the front apart without even bothering to untie the belt that was still wrapped tightly around her waist. She was torn between keeping her hands at her head or trying to stop him from disrobing her completely. The urge to defend herself finally won out and she reached down to wrap her hands around Sinclair's big wrists.
She realized quickly how much of a mistake that was. As she tightened her grip on his wrists, his booted foot connected hard with her side, sending a wave of concussive pain through the rest of her body. She cried out in pain and wriggled herself into a position away from the assault. It hurt everywhere every time she moved, and now it even hurt to breathe.
The kick had done what it was meant to, though, and Sinclair took advantage of the moment of slackness in her muscles. His rough and strong hands quickly pulled the belt free from around her waist and before she could react, he pulled her arms above her head, forcing them against the pole.
She felt the fabric of the belt pressing against her wrists and the cold metal against the back of her hands and in a last, desperate attempt to stop Sinclair from forcing himself on her, she kicked out blindly with one powerful leg.
Sinclair yelled in anger and pain as her foot connected between his legs with all the force she could muster. She didn't have time to feel anything, though, before his hand crashed down against her face again. Stars exploded behind her eyes as his fist forced her head back against the concrete that held the pole aloft. Everything took on a blurry tone when she opened her eyes, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood against her lips and the side of her head.
She looked around through dazed eyes and barely recognized Sinclair standing over her. The ringing in her ears partially covered the guard's sadistic laugh, and she finally noticed that nothing hurt any longer. Where once it hurt to breathe or move, there was nothing but the fuzzy feeling in her head. She couldn't focus on anything long enough to feel any sensation at all.
She was vaguely aware of the rough robe parting in the front and the cool night air blowing across her bare skin. Something in the back of her mind told her that she should be fighting, that she was in trouble, but nothing made it all the way to the front of her brain long enough for her to do anything about it. Even the fear that had permeated its way through her over the last few hours was gone. It was peaceful, and she didn't want to go back.
When her eyes tracked back to Sinclair's face, she could see the anger still there, but there was something else. There was fear. As if she was watching a movie, all the scenes that she remembered of Lilly sitting at the pole came back to her, and she remembered that she had never once seen the girl bruised or bloody. She realized that Sinclair had crossed a line, and he knew it. Despite the growing concern about her inability to feel anything, she found the energy to smile at him.
Sinclair drew back his hand and slapped her face again, but this time it was much lighter, to the point that all she felt as a little pressure as his hand connected.
"Time to wake up, little pussy. Daddy Wolf is going to make you scream," he said. Caitlin almost didn't hear him over the rushing in her ears.
She didn't fight as he reached down and spread the rough cloth all the way off her front, leaving her nude and open to the guard's view. She didn't have the energy any longer and she felt the darkness closing in at the edges. There was a slight worry in the back of her mind about how much damage the big guard had done to her with that last hit, but it was a vague worry, something that she couldn't bring to the front.
She let her head roll to the side and the world blurred further. At the very edge of her hearing she heard someone shouting. She couldn't make out the words, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to. All she wanted was to sink into the quiet darkness that was quickly overtaking her.
She could hear Sinclair shouting something, and it caught her attention that his voice was very different from the voice that was yelling first. Sinclair sounded angry, and the other voice sounded emphatic, authoritative. There was something familiar about that other voice, too.
"Momma Wolf," she managed to mutter when she recognized the voice. She didn't know if Orfeo could hear her, and she knew that her Momma Wolf wouldn't be coming to save her.
But just before the darkness took her, she saw something moving fast from the corner of her vision and with a shouted curse, Sinclair's weight was off her. Her eyes closed, and her ears brought her the sound of a struggle with more yelling.
It quieted and everything inside her mind calmed. Is this it? she wondered. If it was, she wasn't worried. She sank further into the darkness.
The last thing she felt before she lost consciousness completely was her collar being yanked roughly and the metal falling away from her neck.
She awoke screaming and tried to sit up. The pain that the movement brought with it tore an anguished cry from her lips and she lay back down with a whimper. She opened her eyes and whimpered even louder. The bright lights in the room felt like they were searing a hole through her skull. Everything about her hurt. She'd swear later that even the very tips of her fur hurt.
She moaned again and tried to roll over, but a soft and gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Easy there, girl," came a familiar voice.
Caitlin eased her eyes open a little once again, careful not to open them too far. The figure in front of her was blurry while her eyes adjusted but eventually came into focus.
"Momma wolf," Caitlin said, in wonder at her hoarse voice. Her words were barely a whisper and even that hurt more than she wanted to admit.
"Yeah," Orfeo said with a small smile. "Don't move too much. The doctor says you're going to be okay, but he doesn't want you thrashing."
Caitlin laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes again, sighing in relief when the light was blocked again.
"Doesn't matter," she whispered. "Going back."
"No, Caitlin," Orfeo said. Her voice was husky and quiet and the tone had Caitlin opening her eyes again. She could hear the tears behind Orfeo's words. "You're not going back."
Caitlin wiggled her fingers and tried to move her hands. To her shock, they moved easily and there wasn't a trace of restraint. There were no handcuffs, and though she could still almost feel the horrible touch of the belt at her wrists, it wasn't there in reality.
Then she opened her eyes the rest of the way and looked down her body. She was in a simple hospital gown. The white robe, that hated rough fabric, was gone.
"Inspector Corbett found new evidence, Caitlin," Orfeo said when Caitlin settled back down. "It wasn't you. You didn't kill anyone."
"Who-" Caitlin started to ask.
"Lay still, girl. Just rest."
Orfeo's hand was cool on her forehead, gently laying against one of the only places that didn't hurt. A small smile crossed her face when she heard Orfeo start to hum a soft, slow tune. She recognized it as the same lullaby that she'd sung to Lilly when she was treating her at the pole. A part of her wanted to ask what the melody was, but the rest of her just wanted to lay still and listen to it. For some reason, here in this place, it brought her comfort.
"Stay with me, Momma Wolf," she whispered. Her voice was pleading and even she could hear the fear still there behind the words.
"I'm not going anywhere, girl. Just sleep."
Caitlin drifted off to the sound of Orfeo's lullaby and the feeling of her rough hand gently stroking her head.
When Caitlin awoke next, there was a different hand in hers. It was softer and more delicate than Orfeo's. She slowly opened her eyes, noticing for the first time the prongs of plastic held against her nose and the cool flow of oxygen into her nostrils. She took a breath and hen her eyes focused, she found herself looking at her sister, tucked neatly into a chair next to her bed, breathing evenly with her own eyes closed.
"Sarah," she whispered.
Sarah jumped and looked over at Caitlin and then smiled.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Cait," she said. "Don't go anywhere."
She pulled her hand from Caitlin's and stood up. It hurt too much for Caitlin to move her head, so she just stared at the empty seat, trying to figure out how her sister was there with her. Before she could think too hard about that question, Sarah was back, and she'd brought other people with her. Caitlin turned her head to the side and her vision blurred with tears the moment she saw her mother and her father.
"Hi, angel," her father said as he reached down to pet her head.
"Daddy." The one word carried everything that she wanted to say.
"The magistrate pardoned him, too," Orfeo said from the doorway. "He said that a man shouldn't be in prison for defending his innocent daughter."
Caitlin couldn't speak, there was too much going on inside her head. She just lay there and looked at her family as the tears streamed down her face.
"When the doctor says you're okay, you're going to be coming home," Jeremy said to his daughter. "For now, just rest. We'll all be here as long as it takes."
Caitlin nodded, still crying. She managed to reach out one hand to her father and he took it in his big, strong one, then covered it with his other hand. She laid there for hours until she finally drifted off again to sleep, safe with her father watching over her again.