Ari and Brett

A Rose Called Miracle: Book #3, Pt. 5

Author's Note: This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is purely coincidence.

If you are uncomfortable with the subjects of control, restraint, discipline, and mild corporal punishment, please go no further. Likewise, this story is peopled with hetero, interracial, and LGBTQ+ characters and couples, and indirectly--incest; if you can't deal with that, leave now--you'll only be offended. Also, I apologize to BDSM aficionados--in this story I pretty much ignore proper BDSM safety measures as the characters develop their relationship. Please do not use these writings as a 'how to' guide. Lastly, if anyone reading 'A Rose Called Miracle' has enjoyed my characters, feel free to take them on new adventures--but please don't mess too much with the canon.

BRETT AND KARI (A Master/slave story of Love and Loss)

***There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein

***For those who are willing to make an effort, great miracles and wonderful treasures are in store. Isaac Bashevis Singer

CHAPTER 17

KARI'S NARRATIVE

I busied myself unwrapping our food and laying everything out neatly; I still couldn't bring myself to begin eating without Brett's approval. I sat still and upright, hands folded in my lap and waiting.

"Cupcake? Is that you, you little cunt! It is you, isn't it?" The harsh, strident voice rang out across the dining area. "Where the fuck have you been hiding? And what the fuck have you done to yourself?"

'Oh God No!' I screamed silently. "Philomena!" I gasped as the giant woman surged across the room, grabbed me by my hair before I could run, and yanked me out of my chair. She slammed her fist into my right cheek and then backhanded me on my left.

She started dragging me toward the door, kicking at me as she went. "You just wait 'til I get you back where you belong. You little whore, I'll teach you to run away from me. I'm going to beat you so bad...you just wait 'til I gets you into my new pain room."

I screamed as panic flooded through me. Philomena kept dragging me toward the door and I couldn't get to my feet. I screamed again. I saw people with phones. "Call 911," I screamed. Philomena punched me twice in the face.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" I saw Brett running from the back. "Let go of her right now!" He slowed slightly; pointed at me; and stalked toward Philomena.

"No!" I shrieked when I saw the small gun in Philomena's hand. But I wasn't in time. I heard three loud 'POP's'. Brett stopped, staggered, and looked down at his chest. His hand got about halfway to his chest before it dropped again and he toppled sideways. His head smashed into a table and then bounced lifelessly on the floor.

Screaming incoherently, I viciously kicked Philomena. She grabbed at her crotch, releasing my hair. I rolled away and crawled to Brett's side. His eyes were open, but dancing crazily and seeing nothing. Blood dripped from his ear, mouth, and a gash on his scalp. I could see three holes in his shirt. I begged people to help us.

EMT's and police arrived simultaneously--after what seemed like hours. "Get her out of our way!" One of the EMTs ordered the cops. I fought like a wild woman to stay with Brett. "Please don't let him die!" I sobbed.

"Please Miss, let them work." One of the cops spoke gently as he tried to move me out of the EMTs way, "Can you tell me what happened?" He asked. I only stared at him. Was he speaking English? One of the EMTs stripped aside Brett's shirt; I could see the three bloody spots in the middle of his chest. They slapped bandages on his chest and a collar around his neck. A third EMT rushed in with a gurney and the three of them lifted Brett's limp body onto it.

"Miss, did you hear me?" The cop touched my arm and I cringed away from him.

"Miss, what is your name. Who is the injured man? Who did this?" I stared at the cop. "Miss? Would you like to come outside and talk? Maybe some fresh air would help?" The cop gently touched my arm. I stood up and moved to the door with him but suddenly the world started spinning; I fell against the window and slid to the ground.

"World won't stop spinning!" I gagged. The cop danced out of the way so I didn't foul his shoes.

"Officer?" An elderly, white-haired man approached us, "I didn't see what happened; but my wife says that a very large woman--the same woman who did the shooting--struck this girl in the head at least three times. You should take her to a hospital and have her checked for concussion. Look at her face, she's already bruising; and the dizziness and nausea are classic signs"

"Are you're a doctor?" The cop asked.

"I am. I'm retired, but I've seen enough head trauma in my time to..."

"I understand. My partner and I will transport the lady. Thank you for your assistance, Doctor."

The cops helped me into the back seat of their car; the young one drove while the older one joined me in the back. "Miss?"

I looked at him. I had to blink my eyes a couple times to focus. "Yes?"

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked softly.

"Kari. Kari Jensen."

"And the man who was injured?"

"Brett...Brett...Brett Noonan. My fiancé." I don't know why but I felt compelled to show him my ring.

"Do you know who shot him?"

"Shot? Shot who?" My head throbbed violently and I couldn't concentrate.

The cop sighed, "Miss Jensen. Who shot your fiancé, Brett Noonan?"

"Brett's been shot! No! I've got to see him! Where is he?"

"He's at the hospital. We're taking you there now to have you examined. Now, Miss Jensen, can you tell me who shot Brett; who beat you?"

"Philomena."

"Last name?"

"Don't know."

"How did you come to know her?" The cop asked.

I shook my head--regretted it immediately--and just stared at the front of the car. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to remember--but I couldn't stop the memory.

"When I turned 18 I was released from CPS. My fosters dumped me when the state stopped paying them for my care. They dropped me off outside the local bus terminal and wished me luck. I caught the first bus through; it brought me here. When I stepped out of the station, I was looking around trying to figure out which way to go. Somebody grabbed me and threw me into a van."

"You were kidnapped?"

I nodded. "Yes sir. For the next...I don't know how long it was, it was always dark...I was beaten and starved...denied water. At last, they dragged me out of that cell, stripped me naked, put cuffs on my ankles and wrists, and put me up on a box under a spotlight. They offered me for sale--but nobody wanted me. I wasn't pretty enough or young enough. I heard some guy yell out 'just kill her and ditch the body, don't waste any more time.' But Philomena gave them $50 to take me off their hands." I shuddered at the memory of her dragging me off the box--still chained and naked.

"She forced you to be a prostitute?" The older cop asked.

"No! Uh Uh! She said I was too plain and too old to be one of... 'her girls'... was how she put it. I was kept as a servant. Cooking, washing, cleaning...especially cleaning up the mess when one of the girls was injured by a...customer."

"Injured?"

I nodded, "If the customer paid enough...girls died."

"How long were you held?"

I had to stop and think about it; I was embarrassed when I caught myself counting the time on my fingers. "Okay, she got me when I was 18; I'm 32 now; I escaped nearly three years ago...so she had me for..." I closed my eyes and tried counting again; drew a blank. "I'm sorry...I can't seem to do the math."

"11 years?" Suggested the cop as we pulled into the hospital's emergency driveway.

I tried to nod, but the world started spinning again. "Is this the hospital where they brought Brett?"

"Yes. It has the best trauma team in the state; we're lucky it's so close." The cop helped me out of the car; I was still fighting dizziness. An attendant met us with a wheelchair. The cop and attendant helped me inside to the reception desk; I was surprised at how empty the large waiting area was. The cops had grabbed my purse so I had my medical insurance card from WAMA.

We didn't wait long before they took me back to a curtained exam cubicle. I sat on the end of a padded table while a doctor asked me a bunch of questions. I answered those I could; but I felt...foggy? Everything I saw and heard seemed to be filtered by a cloud of gauze.

After the questions, the doctor started the physical tests. I did okay, I think, until he flashed a light in my eyes; I promptly puked and came close to falling off the table.

"Wait a minute!" I demanded, my thinking cleared just a bit, "Where's...my fiancé...my fiancé...his name is...his...Noonan! Brett Noonan. Where is he; he was shot. Oh My God! Brett was shot!" I think I remember screaming...nothing after that.

"Stop that!" I swatted at the hand waving under my nose, "Jesus, that smells awful." I groaned in pain; my head felt like it was about to burst. I blinked really hard and got my eyes to focus. I turned my head a bit; through the pain I saw a nurse--older than me but not by much. Between the nurse's uniform--okay scrubs--and the stark décor I came to the hazy conclusion I was in a hospital.

"Good morning." The nurse was disgustingly cheerful, "It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

"Headache. Bad."

"Yes. The doctor says you have a mild to moderate concussion. After you get up and go to the bathroom I'll bring you some Tylenol. Would you like me to remove your collar? Make it easier to breathe, perhaps?" She asked with a smile.

I panicked; she knew about my collar! "It's not a..."

"Hush dear. I know what it is. It's very nice. Mistress Haugen arranged for me to look after you, and several of our sisters are caring for Master Noonan. He was very, very lucky.

"Lucky? He was shot--three times!" I yelled, outraged. My head throbbed and I regretted yelling.

"I'm glad to see you remember. That's a good sign. And Yes! Lucky. Now calm down and I'll explain. First, his attacker used a very small caliber pistol--not very powerful. And second, all three bullets made solid strikes on ribs which prevented serious damage to his internal organs. Of course, two of his ribs are cracked and one is broken which isn't pleasant, but...it could have been so much worse. By the way, you have visitors waiting to see you; you should go clean up a bit."

I nodded; and promptly grabbed my head to keep it from exploding. The nurse helped me to the bathroom. When I finished, I got up off the toilet and went to wash my hands. I looked in the mirror; the entire left side of my face was bruised and my jaw was swollen; 'cripes', I thought, 'No wonder I have a headache.'

"Excuse me, Nurse," I called out--regretting it instantly as my head and jaw throbbed--Jesus I needed to remember not to yell--add that to not shaking my aching head.

"Yes?" She stuck her head into the room to see what I wanted.

"My purse? I need my comb." She took off and left me to stare at the mess that was my face.

The nurse returned quickly with my bag, "Thank you...ah..."

"Ruth...call me Sister Ruth if you wish; and you're welcome--Sister Kari."

"Thank you Sister Ruth; but I'm not sure I understand..." I found my comb and swiped painfully at my hair--this wasn't going to work; for the first time I regretted the luxuriant, curly mane I'd grown.

"The Gathering takes care of its members. Master Noonan and you will receive the finest care available. Here, let me help you." She led me back to the bedroom and had me sit in a visitor's chair. She took the comb from me and started to untangle the knots.

"I love your butterfly tattoo, it's so lifelike--even with the unusual colors," Ruth commented as she carefully worked the knots out of my hair, "Did Wanda do this?"

"Yes."

"She is a genius. My Master says he'd like Wanda to give me a tattoo also; but he hasn't decided what he wants. I'm excited...and scared...does tattooing hurt terribly?"

"It hurt; but my master held my hand through a lot of it. It wasn't as bad as the headache I have right now. Plus, the tattoo was my decision, sort of. I had a safe word I could have used if I changed my mind," I answered as Ruth excused herself and went to get my painkillers. She was back quickly, I swallowed the meds, and she continued combing my hair. "In fact," I proceeded as if the conversation had not been interrupted, "While my master and I drove to work yesterday, we discussed adding another tattoo--a large pink rose this time."

"Does the rose have a special meaning?" Ruth asked.

"It does. Very special." I refused to explain further. Eventually Ruth was satisfied that my hair was perfect.

Ruth had me get up and go to the bathroom again. I tried to arrange my hair to cover the bruises--without much success. Back in the bedroom I lay back down on my bed and closed my eyes. Ruth asked me not to sleep. "Kari? Do you remember what happened to you?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her, "Yes. Brett and I..."

"You mean Master Noonan?" She prompted.

"Yes. But Brett doesn't want me to call him master when we're in public. Anyway, Brett and I went to lunch at the Deli where we first met. I was seated, waiting for Brett to return. Philomena grabbed me by my hair; hit me a couple times; and tried to force me to go with her. When Brett tried to stop her, she shot him. His eyes...God his eyes were open...his eyes looked dead. I held him until the medical guys pushed me away."

"Yes." Ruth grinned, "EMT Waters reported that you scratched her and tried to bite her."

"I did? I don't remember that." I felt ashamed. "I do remember a cop taking me outside; I got dizzy and got sick on him. After that I remember the cops bringing me to the hospital--and asking me a bunch of questions." I stopped for a second. "I'd like to see Brett. Please?"

"Maybe in a little while. The doctors have him in a medically induced coma..."

"Coma!" I felt faint and sick again. I started sobbing.

"Shh. Hush now sister." Ruth took my hand and sat next to me on the bed. "The doctors want to let your master's brain rest and heal. The fall and blow to his head were more dangerous than the gunshots." I had the awful feeling she wasn't telling me everything.

A youngish man, 'Doctor' I assumed based on the white coat and stethoscope, stepped into the room. "Good morning Nurse Ruth, Miss Jensen, how are you feeling today?" I saw the way Nurse Ruth looked at the doctor; I suspected that I knew who her master was.

"I'll be better when I can see Brett." I insisted.

"Of course you will." The doctor said agreeably. "Ruth, how is she doing?"

"Headache. I gave her two Extra-Strength Tylenol about 25 minutes ago." She reported, very business-like, "She's lucid. She's aware of the situation and related the events with only minor lapses. The only thing she claims not to remember is trying to bite the EMT as she tried to protect her master."

"Understandable, considering the shock and adrenaline." He turned to me, "Please sit up straight, Miss Jensen." He proceeded to conduct a series of tests--mostly duplicating the ones run when I'd arrived at the hospital. When he did the flashing-light-in-the-eyes thing I flinched, but at least I didn't pass out.

"Much better." The doctor commented. "Is the Tylenol helping?"

"I think so. Now I just feel throbbing pressure--like there's a metal band that keeps contracting then relaxing around my skull--especially when I nod or shake my head; it doesn't feel like it's getting set to explode."

"Okay. We'll keep you here for one more night's observation. You can go home tomorrow; but I want someone there with you for at least several days; and you have to promise to relax and rest."

"I don't have anyone to stay with me like that; it's just Brett and me...oh, and our two cats."

"Don't worry, sister," Nurse Ruth spoke up, "We're making the arrangements now for you to have help at home." She and the doctor smiled and nodded.

"When can I see Brett?" I asked again. I was getting impatient. Ruth glanced at the doctor.

"Go ahead. But make sure she understands his condition." The doctor warned as he left us alone.

Nurse Ruth went to a small closet, pulled out a robe, and handed it to me. The Tylenol was helping, but I still had to be careful to avoid sudden head movements. I had to ask Ruth to help with my slippers; bending over still hurt too much. I returned to the bathroom one more time--I wanted to check myself in the mirror. In my head I knew my Brett was unconscious; but in my heart I still wanted to look my best for him. Unfortunately, at that moment, my best was pretty beat up.

I heard the door to my room creak open, "Mistress Haugen!" Nurse Ruth exclaimed. I stepped out of the bathroom and found Nurse Ruth kneeling in front of Ms. Haugen.

"Get up Ruth. You're on duty." Ms. Haugen ordered as she walked over to me. She stopped me from kneeling also. "Kari...Dearest...I'm so dreadfully sorry. How are you feeling." Before I could respond, she continued, "Honestly, you look much better than I expected--although those bruises are spectacular. Have you been up to see Brett?"

"No Ma'am. Nurse Ruth was just helping me get ready."

"I see. Kari, you should know, the doctors are keeping Brett unconscious. He has bruises on his face and chest that are much worse than yours. He is surrounded by machines and tubes and IV equipment. He..."

I started sobbing.

"Kari! Get ahold of yourself." Mistress Haugen ordered sharply. "Brett needs a strong and confident woman; not some blubbering bag of rags." She put her arms around me, "Come on now. Let's go visit him. Come along Ruth." We left the room and walked to the elevator. "Kari..." Ms. Haugen continued, "I visited Brett just a few minutes ago. His rib cage, although damaged, saved him from serious internal injuries--surgeons removed the bullets and repaired the ribs. His EEG and the CT scan shows...a lot of swelling." Like Ruth, Ms. Haugen looked--uncomfortable--as she spoke of Brett's condition; almost like they weren't telling the entire truth. We stepped out of the elevator, "Kari, before we go in, there's one more thing we need to discuss. The doctor asked me to tell you that occasionally, in cases where there is a traumatic brain injury like this, a patient wakes up with significant memory loss and personality changes. It is possible Brett won't recognize you." I stared at her slack jawed. I could feel my world starting to unravel. All I could do was nod--despite the throbbing.

Even with all the warnings, Brett's appearance horrified me--all I saw were bandages and bruises; tubes and wires. His eyes were closed. Large bandages covered his head and left eye. I watched his chest carefully; I definitely saw it rise and fall; good, at least he was breathing.

I walked over to his bed and kneeled at his side. I was careful not to touch any of the tubes and wires. "Master." I whispered, "I'm here. Please hurry and come back to me. I need you so much." I pleaded with him as I reached out and put my right hand on his. I felt a tear slipping down my cheek, I angrily wiped it away with my left hand. I was determined that when Brett woke up, he would not see me crying.

Ms. Haugen came over and put her hand on my shoulder. "Kari, Dear, you should go to your room and get some more rest."

I shook my head and regretted it instantly as my head throbbed "No, I'm not leaving Brett."

"Miss..." One of Brett's nurses stepped up opposite Ms. Haugen, "I'm sorry but visiting hours are over. Everyone has to leave now. Please."

I gave up with a sigh. The nurse and Ms. Haugen helped me stand up, and Ruth and Ms. Haugen led me back to my room. I sat on my bed. Nurse Ruth asked me if I was ready for lunch. I said yes, remembering not to nod. She left and it was just Ms. Haugen and me.