Tears glaze Cristina's eyes. She stares at Ella's limp body splayed out in the field. She whirls around, scooping up Marissa's handgun.
Convulsing, she aims it at her father. "Perdóname," she chokes, pulling the trigger. She watches a small spurt of blood spray across the field. His body collapses, slumping over the ground.
Adam whirls around, staring at her with fiery intensity. The accusation burns within his gaze. Cristina winces, closing her eyes. Her fingers jerks back on the trigger.
"Perdóname," she cries. She can hear the distant sound of Adam's body falling through the dried grass. She lets the gun fall from her hands.
Slowly she sinks to her knees, doubling over. She mutters prayers into the earth. Pain spreads across her chest, embracing her body. Her limbs feel heavy, like they're made of lead.
She remains cowered over, unable to move. Twenty minutes drag on before a police squad car pulls over on the edge of the road.
A tall officer hauls himself out of the car. He walks cautiously over to Cristina. Michael climbs out of the car, trailing behind the first officer.
"That's not Eliza," Michael mumbles. Cristina rocks slowly.
"She doesn't speak English," Marissa gasps, wincing.
"Marissa?" concern fills Michael's voice, "Where's Jason?"
"H-he was shot," Marissa whimpers.
Michael's gaze flickers over Nate, crumpled over the backseat. "Th-the boy's badly injured. H-he need to get to a hospital," Marissa sucks back her tears.
"Where's Eliza?"
"I-I think she's in the field."
"Is this girl injured?"
Marissa shakes her head, "She had to drag us out of here."
Michael glances at the girl crumpled over the ground, crying hysterically. "The bloody kid deserves a medal."
***
Sirens wail around the hospital. Michael hovers in the glass doorway, watching the kidnapped girl being wheeled into the ER. Her bruised body is coated with blood. Her auburn hair clings to her dirt-smeared face.
She follows Nate through the white-washed doors. Marissa barely maintains consciousness, mumbling deliriously. "Michael?"
"Hay Marissa. You're going to be fine," Michael soothes.
"Make sure those kids make it," Marissa gasps.
"They're fine."
"Make sure they make it."
Michael nods, "They will."
She's lead through the heavy doors. Michael sighs heavily, turning away from the others being ushered into the ER.
He stares at the girl cowering in the doorway. She looks small and fragile. Her bloodshot eyes are glazed with tears. Her dark hair curls around her face, covered in dirt.
Her fingers are curled tightly around the collar of the Border Collie. The dog whines, tugging against her grip. "They're going to be OK," Michael wanders through the chaos.
The girl stares at him, shifting against the wall. "Come on," he tilts his head toward the entrance of the waiting room. The girl frowns and confusion traces her features.
She follows him into the waiting room, hesitating in the doorway. She awkwardly tries to restrain Cooper. Her dark eyes flicker over the small room lit by fluorescent lights. Plastic chairs are pressed against the wall. A table sits in the corner, littered with old magazines.
Roy paces across the room, running his fingers through his silvery brown hair. He spins around on the edge of his heels and stares at Cristina and Michael.
Joan's head snaps up from her lap. Her cheeks are damp with tears and her lashes cling together. "I-is she going...going to be OK?" her voice is frail.
Michael shrugs, "She's in a critical condition but she's stable."
"Oh God," she chokes, hiding her face in her hands.
Roy glances down at Cooper. The dog struggles to break free of Cristina's hold. "Cooper por favor.
Siéntese," she pleads.
Michael hesitates before collapsing in one of the plastic chairs. Cristina lingers in the corner of the room, clinging to Cooper. Eventually she sinks to the floor, dragging her legs into her chest. Cooper spins around in a circle, nuzzling the side of her face. He licks the edge of her jaw before resting his head on her lap.
Roy frowns, walking cautiously over to her. "Cristina?" Her glassy eyes flash up. "English? Speak English?" Roy asks, kneeling down in front of her.
She shakes her head, "N-no English."
"Poor kid," Michael mumbles. Roy's mouth knots at the corners.
"She probably has no idea what's going on," Roy nods. Cristina's gaze flashes rapidly between the two men.
"Dónde está mi hermano?" Cristina whimpers, curling her arms tighter around Cooper. His fur knots around her fingers. "Nate? Dónde está Nate?"
Michael sighs heavily, "We need a translator."
Cristina murmurs a prayer in swift Spanish. She clings to the tiny gold cross strung around her neck.
The tall police officer enters the waiting room, folding his arms across his chest. "We've found Cristina and Natanael Hart's mother," he breathes, "She's on a plane coming over here from Spain."
"Is this good news?" Michael mutters.
"The woman was hysteric. Apparently the father took them out of the country illegally."
Cristina stares at the officer,
"Mamá?" The man glances over his shoulder.
"Is this Cristina?"
"Yeah," Michael breathes, "She's pretty shaken up."
"I'm not surprised. Poor kid's been through a lot."
Roy sits beside his wife, clasping her hand between his. He can feel her trembling beside him. "It'll be OK," he soothes.
A doctor enters the waiting room. His dark skin shines beneath the florescent lights. "The woman is in a stable condition and we've managed to get the bullet out," he says, "Though she may experience trouble moving her shoulder."
"And the others?" Michael asks.
"The two men are both in stable conditions and are in and out of consciousness," the doctor replies. He clears his throat and lets his gaze flash over the room.
"The girl is in a very critical but stable condition. She's very dehydrated and suffers a lot of bruising, both internal and external. She's lost a lot of blood and her body's suffered a lot of trauma."
"What about the boy?" Michael murmurs, glancing briefly at Cristina huddled in the corner. The doctor draws in a sharp breath, "We've managed to stitch the bullet wound and some of the cuts on his back but he's gone into another epileptic seizure."
"Another?" Roy frowns.
"He's had four since coming here," the doctor sighs.
"And?" Roy murmurs.
"He'll be lucky to make it through the night."
YOU ARE READING
Salvation
Teen FictionShe's his prize, his beautiful, flawless prize. She's his trophy, a girl he stole from the world. He holds her captive in the harsh shadows of the basement and tortures her. He loves her, charishes her every breath and lives off her every scream. He...
