Whispers Of Redemption Pt 02

 This is the second installment (Pt.02 of Whispers of Redemption) Remember to vote and give Feedback, it is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Rapport

Chapter Themes: Thomas Newman-"Any Other Name"& Coldplay-"I'll see you soon"

(The Entire chapter should be read with the Thomas Newman piece-keep it on replay -...it helps visualize and is actually quite soothing. There is a particular scene that should be read with the Coldplay song-it's mentioned in the story, so you'll know when) Of course this is optional but it can't hurt to go for it.

P.S All videos are on you tube. The first selection is usually the correct video.

November 11th 2000

Cross Roads Motel

10:00 pm

Kayla sat, tiredly perched on the foot of her motel room bed. She slowly bobbed up and down enjoying the company of the noise the old springs made as they compressed together only to push apart once more. She munched on a granola bar, laughing every now and then at the ludicrous dialogue that constituted a fifteen time Emmy Award winning series: I Love Lucy. Despite the archaic and blurry TV set she was thankful for the amenity.

'Here, you missed something on this one.' Ethel stated as she handed a soiled plate to Lucy, who was in the midst of washing the dishes.

'That's the design.' Lucy replied hilariously

'It is?' Ethel asked gullably

'Sure, can't you see. Flowers against a background of (scratches plate with nail) gravy.' Lucy proclaimed in her usual comical grace.

Kayla burst into a fit a giggles only to cover her mouth, quickly surpressing the sound of her laughter. A saddened feeling engulfed her when she felt the back of her hand at her lips. Bruce wasn't around to tell her to shut up, or punish her for attemting to be normal, yet her movements, her demeanor, even the things she said, would never clue anyone in on his absence. It was as if he was still there sitting next to her, daring her to laugh, or enjoy the simplicity of what she was currently doing. Suddenly her stomach turned and she didn't feel so hungry anymore, she pulled the light aluminum wrapper up over the rest of the granola bar and rested it on the dusty, miniture wall unit. She refused to turn off the the television because that would mean silence and silence meant lonliness.

Instead, she shrugged out of her work uniform and headed in the shower. After washing her hair with the nonscented shampoo the motel provided, she rested her small hands on the cold tile before her, allowing the warm water to rush down her entire body and pool at her feet before slowly being sucked down the clogged drain. Kayla willed herself to stay calm, he wasn't going to come rushing in the bathroom unannounced as he usually did. After her shower she retrieved her thin sweat pants, underwear, and old t-shirt from the heater and donned them on.

When she finally got into bed she reached for the healing cream Jessica had given her yesterday after discovering one of her bruises and applied it to the places on her face, neck, arms, and legs that needed it the most. After tucking herself under the rough and tacky comforter she stared at the vapidly white ceiling. I Love Lucy still sounded throughout the room and she continued to take deep steadying breaths. She didn't want to close her eyes because everytime she did, a reoccuring memory would embed itself on the back of her eyelids and force her to remember. The most prevalent reoccuring memory was the first time Bruce had raped her. The memory would make her nautious before it would make her cry, but regardless of the order, it always made her depressed; depressed to the point of conscious withdrawl from everything. Sometimes she felt invisible, other times she felt like the whole world knew her predicament, yet both feelings still left her the same: numb.

Subconciously her fingers reached above her head and underneath the pillow her head rested on, searching for the butcher's knife she stole from the restaurant kitchen. If Bruce ever showed up she was going to kill him. She was going to cut him and watch him while he bled. Despite the shame and the sadness, despite the depression and uselessness, anger never really dissapated. She could feel her optimism and normality slipping each and every time she let that man infiltrate hatred into her being. She found herself growing even more angry by the day and this anger was not healthy...it was the kind of anger that burned a heart, buried a mind, and deteriorated a soul. But niether soul, heart, nor mind mattered when you couldn't feel them, right? She wiped at the tears she hadn't felt fall from her eyes and supressed the urge to scream. She hated her continuos tears...they were the most demeaning. Kayla clasped her hands together and rested them on her tummy, waiting for sleep; her mind drifted to the little napkin and the one-thousand dollar bill that rested on the bedside table...Jeremy's notes. She couldn't even count how many times she had stopped herself from calling.

***

Kayla didn't know why she did what she did and even as the phone rang she found herself wishing she could just hang up. Thirty minutes into her glorious insomnia she had grabbed his napkin and dialed the numbers that rested on the bottom of the slip of paper, as she did so her fingers shook and her body grew warm at the thought of hearing his voice. For some reason a Thomas Newman piece floated- through her mind and she felt herself begin to calm remembering the way the violens and piano sounded and how it would feel if she could touch any of them just one more time. She needed someone to talk to, if not only for a few moments. She needed to know she wasn't alone...wasn't invisible. The phone rang once more only to be abruptly cut off by a deep and beautiful voice that elicited a sense of nostalgia she didn't think herself capable of.

"Alessi" He said abruptly.

"Jeremy?" She said axiously, biting her lip as she realized she had no idea what to say. The other line remained silent for what seemed like forever.

"How are you, Kayla?" He said softly. She closed her eyes briefly for the first time in a while and all she could picture was his face...there were no reoccuring memories to haunt her. She smiled childishly to herself and spoke.

"I'm okay, how are you?" She asked

"I'm well. Are the stitches holding up?" He sounded truly concerned and she decided to beat down the doubt within her conscious.

"Yeah, they are. I wanted to thank you...I wanted to thank you for everything." Kayla began "and I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier...I know you must think-"

"Don't apologize when you weren't in the wrong to begin with, Kayla" he replied firmly. Kayla didn't know how to respond, but she realized that each time she heard his voice she felt safer, so she would just have to keep him talking.

"I-I'm working on paying you back." She said whilst scolding herself for the lame statement.

"It wasn't a loan, it was a gift." He said simply. Selfconsciousness started to kick in and she wondered if she was bothering him. She closed her eyes one more time reveling in the absence of any bad memories.

"Guess I'll uh...I'll go now" She stuttered her eyes still closed, she layed back praying she would fall asleep before he hung up, because if she didn't she never would.

"Where are you?" He asked, the hesitancy in his own voice quite apparent. Her eyes flew open and she did not think before answering.

"The Cross Roads Motel, I didn't think it was safe to go back."

"Good. Does he know where you are?"

Kayla pondered on her answer.

"I doubt it will take long for him to find out." She replied, feeling fear seep into her body as the truth of that statement rang aloud.

"Do you want me to come get you?" Jeremy asked. Kayla was caught off guard by the question, she frowned, slowly sitting up and staring at her hand as her breathing sped up like the fast flow of a rushing river in a hurry to meet the ocean.

"What?" was all she could get out

"Would you like me to come get you? You're obviously not safe." He restated.

"Wha-well-I...that's not why I called; I just can't sleep."She murmered shamefully.

"Close your eyes" he whispered. She complied, her heart tightly constricted by an invisible tendril of trust, his soothing voice still filtering through the speaker and his aura still as warm as ever.

"Okay" She sighed.

"I won't leave you until you fall asleep." He promised. She shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his voice-it was so magnetic to her. Her smile never faded as she kept her eyes sealed.

"How will you know?" She questioned apprehensively. Kayla thought she heard him chuckle softly.

"Just keep your eyes closed, Kayla" He replied gently.

"Goodnight, Jeremy" she whispered

"Goodnight, Kayla"

November 12th 2000

Cross Roads Motel

8: 00 am

Her face was warm, really warm...flushed by heat, not the kind of heat caused by a locked up room or an overworked kitchen but the kind of heat caused by the very sun that lit up the sky. Kayla opened her eyes to the bright sun rays that shone through the thin curtains and unto her face. It was ironic how brightly the sun could shine yet the air still remained wickedly cold. She rolled over only to come in contact with a hard object. She pulled it from under her rib cage. The land phone. At first she stared at the phone in perplexity, but in no longer than a second she was smiling at the tiny seemingly meaningless object. She put it to her ears to hear a steady dial tone; the sound didn't bother her though, because for some inexplicable reason she knew he hadn't hung up until he knew she was sleeping. She hung up the phone, drew up her legs and folded them under her so that her rear-end rested on her heels. She hung her head low, allowing her tresses to fall amongst her face and shoulders. She heard his voice first and then she saw his eyes, she closed her eyes and felt his hands.

She ran her hands through her hair and over her face before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Kayla was on her way out of the bathroom when she heard a loud knock at her door. She stopped mid-stride-paralyzed. Her ears grew hot and she directed her gaze at her pillow, knowing full well what lay underneath it. Her hands commoved and her legs felt heavy as she crept toward her bed. Just before she reached for the butcher knife there was another loud knock that cause her to jump. Kayla whimpered, quickly reaching for the knife and wishing that the door had a peephole. The window was too far way from the door for any good to come of her looking through it. She tightened her grip around the massive knife and walked to the door. She placed her hand on the knob after unlocking it slowly and turned.

Kayla swung the door open, her arm raised with the knife clasped firmly in her fist. Her eyes were narrowed and her stance as strong as she could make it. But instead of Bruce's ugly black eyes she saw green ones, and instead of a grimace she saw a smirk, instead of the man she despised she saw a man she could call a friend. A small cry of relief left her lips and she dropped the knife that suddenly felt too heavy. She took several clumsy steps back as Jeremy strode into her room and eyed her cautiously.

"I didn't mean to scare you" He said in an amused tone. His arm was slightly outstretched in a gesture to reassure her. He set down a cup of what looked like coffee on the TV set and a bulging white paper bag. He then lifted the knife and placed it behind the small wall unit.

"You won't need that." He smirked.

"How did you know what room I was in?" She shifted from foot to foot completely aware of the rags she was dressed in...not that she had anything better to wear. He closed the lengthy gap between them gently capturing her jaw in his hand, and slowly turning her head from side to side as his gaze grew more intense.

"I asked the manager" he replied easily. His scent made her feel dizzy; it was pleasantly masculine...only a lingering hint of cologne to add the finishing touch. He wore dark jeans and a black Ralph Lauren sweater over a white button down collared linen shirt. His hair was a mass of windblown black waves and his skin blemish-free and glowing. She was overwhelmed and immediately dropped her head out of his hand.

"I brought you something to eat; I don't know what you like so I got the regular breakfast sandwich with an apple muffin and some peppermint tea. Sounds good?" He shuffled in the paper bag, pulling out the foods as he recalled them. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and reached for the tea. The hot liquid warmed her throat and her chest, she greedily drank more.

"Thank you for staying on the phone with me last night" She said in between gulps "And for breakfast."

He continued to study her tiny rented room with an enigmatic expression in his eyes. When he spotted her clothes strewn about the heater a fleeting thought formed in his mind: She should be with him instead...not living like this.

"No problem" He replied. He sat down at the foot of her bed and focused his stare on her. Last night when he had picked up the phone and realized it was her he couldn't describe the relief he felt...that she was okay...that she still wanted to speak with him. Her voice was tired though and laced with something he just couldn't pinpoint. This morning his mother and Doris- his grandmother had decided to go shopping and he didn't have to be at work for a few hours. His decision to get the logistics on her specific where-abouts from Rocco and buy her breakfast was impulsive. He had needed to see her again, badly. She smelled of strong lavender and light cinnamon. And baggy clothing hid the soft curves of her body he knew were there. He was tempted to trail his fingers along her face for longer but decided against it when he felt her pull away. Neither said a word as she ate and he stared longingly for several moments, they were surreal moments in which everything felt right although so much still went unexplained. He obtained this unfathomable feeling of satisfaction as he sat on her bed and watched her studiously.

"Jeremy?" Kayla said quietly. He felt pure pleasure when he heard his name wrapped in her angelic voice. Instantaneously he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right there, pull her onto the bed and love her like she needed to be loved. The feeling was so strong that he almost carried out that sinful thought. Guilt washed over him at his loss of self-control, she had probably faced a lot worse than physical abuse with Bruce and if there was anything he wanted from her it was her trust not her fear. He bit back a groan.

"Yes"

She walked over to him with the sandwich in one hand and the tea in another. She sat down turning slightly towards him. Jeremy was rendered speechless in her midst; to him, the feeling was euphoria and belittling all at once. Nothing ever tripped him up...he didn't respect uncertainty or irresolution...yet here he was, resembling the epitome of both. Now that they were even closer than before, he studied the contours of her face. He couldn't see any bruising only her enticing russet skin. Jet black tresses flowed against her shoulders beautifully and those almond shaped weapons she called eyes burned intensely. A small smile curved her sensuous lips, defining the dimples in her cheeks. She was gorgeous and he knew she didn't even know it. He saw himself leaning in and capturing her lips, kissing her neck...gripping her waist. He looked away briefly to even the scattered erratic beats pounding against his chest.

"Would you like a piece?" Kayla offered him half her sandwich and he shook his head.

"No, its all yours" He said amiably.

"Tell me about your self" She said boldly, nibbling on the sandwich. Jeremy contemplated the consequences of the truth and decided it wasn't worth the chivalrous attempt...he would just have to leave certain aspects of his life out.

"What would you like to know?" He asked softly.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Silver"

"How tall are you?"

"Six-two"

"What are you?"

"Italian"

"What do you do?"

"I head an investment banking agency."

Kayla gazed into his green eyes feeling less in touch with reality with each blink of an eye. Was he real? Could someone really just waltz into her mauled life and seek a friendship with her? Especially if they knew she had nothing to offer?

"Why did you stop your car that night?" She asked cautiously, afraid of a response that she didn't necessarily want to hear.

"I knew you were in trouble." He answered truthfully.

"Fair enough." She said mostly too herself. Jeremy smiled. She rested her hand on his and when he showed no sign of disgust or annoyance she rested her head on his shoulder and continued to chew on the last piece of her sandwich.

"Did I tell you how old I am?" She asked lightly

"No" He already knew almost everything about her but that was not something she needed to know, lest he scare her away...besides, she herself had never told him her age. Jeremy rested his chin on the crown of her head savoring every breath of air that held her scent. It was paradoxical how easy it was for them to act as if they had done this a thousand times. She was abused and he wasn't used to small talk. They were two extreme negative signs that were meant to repel, not attract as they did now.

"Eighteen" Kayla admitted

"Where did you go to high school?"

"Brampton High...in twelfth grade I had to stop going, though"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She shifted slightly and her hair tickled his face. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around his large hand.

"They say the parts of your brain that help you make rational decisions and tame your impulses are not developed until your well into your twenties. I think most teenagers are cruel because most know no better. I don't think if they knew what I faced at home...they would treat me the way they did."

Jeremy ran his hands through her hair and down her back, hugging her to his chest. She sniffed and he immediately felt helpless. It was as if she was broken into a billion pieces of glass already and he was responsible for putting her back together without getting cut in the process.

"He won't ever hurt you again, Kayla" It was a promise he intended on keeping. Jeremy allowed her to cry in his arms; he wondered when was the last time someone held her...helped her. Anger like never before filled his heart and hardened his muscles; Bruce Torch didn't deserve life.

"I hate crying" She said. She gradually shifted out of his embrace placing her small hands on her thighs and squaring her shoulders as if to stop the flow of her tears with good posture and deep rehearsed breaths.

"You can't keep everything inside...that could kill you."

"I'm tired of tears. They don't help. They just dry to your cheeks and remind you that you're alone. Their spiteful." She wiped at her eyes frustratingly.

"You're not alone, Kayla" Jeremy whispered softly into her hair, leaning into her ever so slightly before wrapping his arms around her. He felt her body tense in a seemingly impulsive way, seconds later it relaxed...trustingly.

"Oh yeah? Who says so?" She muttered bitterly, unaware of the magnitude of his previous words. He tightened his arms around her, savoring the feel of her soft body pressed against his.

"I do" He stated clearly. Kayla pushed away, only to stare into his eyes with a look in hers that depicted just how desperate she was to believe him. He lifted his hand to caress her face and she caught his wrist before he could touch her skin.

"Jeremy" She gazed down at her gray sweatpants feeling lower than before for some reason "I-I'm not worth it." She dared to raise her gaze just a little to his hand, his wrist was tense under her slight grip and his pulse quickened as she spoke. She watched him ball his hand into a fist as if he wanted to prevent it from exploding-it was the most bewitching display of human emotion she had ever witnessed. He seemed incapable of controlling his most perceptible emotion: anger. And although she should have been scared and was almost positive if it was anyone else she would have been, she wasn't. He was too interesting. She dared to look up completely into his eyes, noticing the exuberant green fire there and then his clenched jaw. His eyes served as his ultimate weakness; they were as translucent as a newly cleaned sliding glass door. You could see everything clearly: the grass, the stark blue sky, and the birds, even maybe the wind... and as riveting as such a picture would be it would also be a faultless exemplification of just how clear his scorching emerald eyes were.