Free Betraying Innocence by Airicka Phoenix Page A

Something itchy was wrapped around her, sucking out the chill soaking her bones, but it wasn’t enough.
    “Now, where did you come from, hmm?” Tap, tap, tap, tap. Oh God, the tapping. It was back! She slammed her hands over her ears, needing to block it before it bore holes into her brain.
    “Stop! Stop it!” she wailed.
    Hands were there again, confining her, holding her down when all she wanted to do was run, run from the tapping.
    “Get off me! Let me go!” Her screams were swallowed by more tapping. It was everywhere. So loud, so demanding. It was trying to drive her mad. “Stop!”
    Just behind the consuming noise, something shrieked. The world around her rattled. Someone … something growled.
    “Get off her!”
    More noise. More tapping. It was happening all around her, but she couldn’t see. It was dark, thick, empty, hot darkness, grinding into her eyes, blinding her. Why couldn’t she see what was happening?
    Cool wetness slapped her in the face a second later. She was grabbed again, dragged. She was vaguely aware of being lifted, cradled. Someone was saying something. The words were familiar, but it could have been Klingon for all the sense it made. Then, there was warmth again. The itchy thing was replaced by something that smelled of spices, rain and freshly mowed grass. Ana tried to piece it all together, but the tapping was back, seemingly louder. Someone was sobbing. Deep, heart wrenching sobs that tore at her soul. Then there was nothing. No cold. No rain. No warmth. No sound, except the tapping keeping her company in the dark.

    Rafe
     
    He should leave. It felt strange sitting there, in her kitchen, drinking tea from a mug that said #1 Dad and listening as her parents tried to determine what to do with their daughter.
    Rafe glanced up at the two, a little daunted by how much they both looked like Ana, or rather, how much she looked like them. Usually kids had pieces, but she had all the best parts of her parents. The intense green of her dad’s eyes. The brown and gold of her mom’s hair. He had no idea when he’d observed her so closely that it was almost impossible not to notice, but he could sketch her from memory given the chance. It was just too bad he had no artistic abilities.
    “Could you tell us again what happened, please, Raphael?” Mrs. French turned away from her husband to take the stool on Rafe’s right.
    She wasn’t crying. If anything, she looked frighteningly determined not to cry. Rafe would have believed her to be disturbingly in control of her emotion if it weren’ t for the red ring around her eyes and the way her jaw muscles kept flexing. She bunched her hands together and set them on the table.
    Rafe stole a glance at Ana’s father, who looked both torn and agitated standing in the corner. He was as wet as Rafe, having dashed out in the rain when Rafe had brought Ana home. But he didn’t seem to notice, while Rafe felt like he’d peed himself.
    “I was home when I heard the screaming,” he began, retelling them what he’d told them only moments ago. “I ran out and saw some guy trying to push Ana into his car. She was resisting, but she was … loopy, like she’d been drugged. She kept mumbling about making the tapping stop. The guy claimed he found her that way and I couldn’t find any injuries, but I didn’t stay to check. I brought her straight home.”
    Mrs. French sucked in a shaky breath and straightened. She turned her head to peer at her husband, silently asking him something that had him growling at the back of his throat and turning his head away.
    Ignoring him, she focused on Rafe once more. “You did a great thing for her … for us today, Raphael. Who knows what could have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
    Rafe looked down at the hands he’d wrapped around the mug. He didn’t say it but he almost wasn’t. He’d been in the middle of a death match on the Xbox . It had been pure curiosity that had him poking his head out the