Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (hardest books to read txt) 📕

Johnny collapsed onto the sofa, leaning back in a half-lying position against the pillows. I was sure the sofa had never felt more comfortable than it did right now.

"Hey," I knelt in front of him, wincing at the sight of the blood. “Got a first aid kit around here?"

He didn't reply. "Johnny?" I asked. "Hey!" I shook his arm but only received a low groan. I gave up, already knowing the answer.

I came back carrying a few towels and a bottle of whiskey, finding him in the same position as I’d left him. It didn't look like he’d moved at all. My fingers brushed over his skin. The bruises had already begun to shift in all sorts of colors. But even though it looked horrible, it wasn't what I should worry about. The wound which the knife had caused was so much worse, even though it didn't look half as bad.

Sitting on my knees, I positioned myself between his legs, trying to block any thought that wasn't related to blood or wounds. It didn't help that his bare chest was right in front of my eyes, just waiting to be touched. Seriously? The voice snapped. Just look at him. Even covered in blood, sweat, and bruises, he was breathtaking. Focus, the voice urged. What the hell is wrong with you? My inner voice won, though just barely.

Popping the cork of the bottle, I poured a good amount of alcohol onto the towel before bringing it to Johnny’s chest.

He winced as the alcohol stung. "Fuck."

"Sorry," I whispered. “I have to do this.”

He gave me a short nod, then clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on me as I was working.

"I'm so sorry," he said, making my hand stop in the air. I let it drop, and the puzzled look on my face made him explain.

"It's my fault," he sighed, shifting his position. He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers across my cheek down to my jaw, and I flinched from the soreness. I had no clue how I looked, but I had a feeling it wasn't pretty.

"I'd rather kill myself than do this to any woman," he said, and for a moment it looked like he was far away in thought.

"I know.” I took his hand, guiding it away from my face. "They were talkin' bullshit." I squeezed his hand. "You didn't do this to me; it’s not your fault."

He still didn't look convinced, but gave up on talking and let himself fall back against the cushions. I finished the work in silence.

"Can I get you somethin'?" I asked. "Anythin'?"

He shook his head. "Just need a bit of rest.”

I gave him a weak smile, leaning over the back of the sofa to fetch the blanket and draped it over his shoulders.

He reached up a hand to hold it in place, but soon it slipped down to rest in his lap, and the blanket gaped opened as his eyes drifted close. I stared as a thick drop of stubborn blood slid down his chest.

Resisting the urge to clean it, I sat on the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up any second. Rest? How could he rest when Sean was still out there? He could come back any second. What could I do? What could Johnny do? All the what ifs made my pulse quicken. So many questions and no answers. My body started to tremble. I didn't want to die here. All I'd wanted was a calm trip away from home. Ever since I'd set foot on this island I'd been tossed between heaven and hell. Lately, the scale tipped more toward hell, and I couldn't see the way out of it. There was no light at the end of this tunnel. No silver lining.

I watched Johnny's bruised body with a sinking feeling in my heart. How much more could he handle? If Sean came back now, when he’d allowed himself to relax, I wasn't sure he’d be able to get up again for a new fight.

He’d try, no doubt. He’d rather die than to admit defeat, but I couldn't let him do that to himself. Not again. The creep had gotten away because of me. It was up to me to find him.

19

Bree’s Game

I grabbed a knife off the kitchen counter. Johnny was still asleep when I left him and headed out into the slowly fading evening light alone. I had no plan, no idea of what to do once I would find Sean. My motto had always been live in the moment, and right now I was unable to think further than that. The only thing on my mind was finding Sean before he would come back to finish what he'd started.

My plan backfired as I reached the beach. I realized, when Sean stood over me, with dirty jeans and clenched fists, that I should’ve been better prepared.

He glared at me as I lay on the sand, panting from the sudden shock of having my legs kicked out under me. He had somehow broken free from the ropes which were now sticking out from a back pocket. He'd saved them. Ready to use on me. I gulped, trying to crawl away but a foot on my thigh stopped me. He pressed down and I squirmed and whimpered under the pressure.

Sean looked down at me with cold eyes, and when he laughed, the sound was just as chilling.

"You really made it too easy for me." He shook his head as if he couldn't believe my stupidity, then dropped down to his knees. With one swift movement, he straddled me, grabbing my arms and holding them in place above my head with one hand. He leaned in, hissing in my ear. "Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now." His rotten breath made me gag.

"Please," I begged.

"Please?" He raised a dirty eyebrow in question. "You are in no position to plead."

My mind reeled. He was right, I’d screwed