Darkness Before Dawn

pain before placing his lips over my ear. "You never answered me, bitch. You thought you were gonna leave here? You thought I was done with you?" he rages.
    "No," I whimper.
    "NO WHAT?" he shouts, causing an instant ache in my eardrum.
    "Didn't think-" I begin.
    "NO! YOU DIDN'T THINK!" he shouts again before grabbing a handful of my hair and pounding my head to the floor.
    He gets up, scooping my body with him before slamming me back down on the ground, making my head tilt back and forth like a rag doll. He gives me no time to collect myself before kicking sharply on my right side.
    "Ah!" I shriek. "Please!"
    "Shut up, bitch! Shut the fuck up!" he yells.
    "Please stop!" I say, my voice low and guttural, before he slams his fist against my face. I hear more than I feel the crack and instantly taste the iron in my mouth.
    He kicks me again, closer to my stomach, right over my left hand making me scream in agony. "Please!" I beg in a whisper, feeling the strength in my fight fade with each blow. "Please...baby..."
    "What? You don't like to be hit? You think I didn't scream when they did this to my fucking face? THIS," he shouts, and I know he's pointing at his face, but my heavy eyes won't open to let me see. "OPEN YOUR EYES, GODDAMMIT! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"
    I pry my eyes open as far as they go, tears spilling down my face and sobs sputtering out of me. "Baby," I plead, my voice barely a whisper. My eyes shut again before I can stop them.
    The next time I flutter my eyes open a little, I see him put his arm behind his back and bring something to the front of his body. My eyes open as wide as my face allows and I bring my hands up to shield my face. I hear Dean screaming loudly and rushing toward us. The last thing I see are Benny's dark hateful eyes before he slams the bottle of liquor over my head and pushes me into blackness.

 
     

 

    The sound of my ringing phone makes my heart and stomach simultaneously clench. Anytime it rings, a surge of hope streams through me only to be quickly covered in dread because every time it rings it's a let down. I stare at it for a second longer before answering.
    "Hello?" I ask and hold my breath.
    "This Cole?" asks a male voice I don't recognize.
    "Who's this?" I ask quietly.
    "Blake's at St. Joseph's Hospital. You should probably go as soon as you can. Critical."
    The air swishes in and out of my body so quickly, I barely have time to recover my breath before answering. "What? Who...who is this?" I stammer.
    "Blake. St. Joseph's. Critical. Don't got time." Then the line goes dead. I look at my phone for a minute and shut my mouth before my brain kicks in again, adrenaline already a resident in my heart. I grab my keys and run out of the apartment dialing Aubry's number on the way to the car. When it goes to his voicemail, I try Connor's number instead to see if he heard anything. Today was supposed to be the day he picked me up to get Blake wherever she is and my stomach is in knots thinking about something going wrong.
    "Yo, bad news," he says as a greeting.
    "What?" I ask, anxiety overtaking my body.
    "It's not happening today," he replies, sounding exhausted.
    It occurs to me that this wasn't a prank call—this wasn't a way for them to get me there so they could take me too. This is real. Blake's really at the hospital, and the thought of the words Blake, hospital, and critical being in the same sentence hit me like a ton of bricks.
    "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I just got a call," I mutter, letting go of a sharp breath.
    "No shit? What's going on?" he asks and sounds genuinely confused, but then, he always does.
    "Some guy said Blake is at St. Joseph's and critical."
    "Fuck. Meet you there," he says and hangs up.
    I contemplate calling Mark or Aubry but I can't process anything more. My mind is a jumbled mess, yet blank at the same time, so I just repeat the mantra: Please let her be okay, all the way there.
    I arrive at the hospital and run full speed to the ER. I tell the front nurse that I'm looking for Blake Brennan.
    "Are you family?" she asks.
    "Yes."
    "What's your relation?"
    "Husband."
    She crinkles her salt and pepper eyebrows together and eyes my ring finger before her eyes trail over my wrinkled shirt.
    "Uncomfortable," I explain as I wiggle my fingers. "I don't wear it."
    "So you're Mr. Brennan?" she asks with a raised brow.
    I let out a breath. "Yes," I reply through gritted teeth. I swear to God, I'm going to marry that fucking girl and change her last name as soon as