the art of discipline.

2. S A F E

Coen got in the car while holding Lily, minding her head. He sat down with her snugly in his lap. She didn't fight it, in fact she pulled herself closer into his chest. He held her firmly, his hands were warm and toasty on Lily's skin.

But there was quite obviously something rather wrong with her leg. It was bleeding in a few places from concrete scrapes, but it was swelling around the shin area. It wasn't broken, otherwise Lily would've been in much more discomfort. She hadn't really tried to move it, she hadn't had to--Coen had carried her. But when he'd placed her on his lap and her leg had dropped, she'd winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

Blaine had been through medical school, he'd wanted to become a surgeon but it never happened--life got in the way. His expertise made him think Lily might have a fracture--or multiple fractures in her shin bone. Those rotten little basturds that had her pinned down must have caused that.

Lily was letting her eyes close for a few seconds and then opening them again, fighting sleep. But soon enough, she gave in and Coen's warmth enveloped her as she forgot about her pain. Her breaths gradually got heavier and slower, she relaxed in his arms.

Matt began asking questions after a short while.

"Who is she?"

"An exceptionally beautiful young girl who almost got raped outside the club. I was talking to her inside, she said she needed to go to the ladies room. I almost offered to take her but I didn't. I'm guessing those pathetic little weeds got her when she came out of the toilet. She said she was coming back so I knew she hadn't left on her own accord. She needs cleaning up, she's hurt and her clothes are ruined."

"Home then?"

"Yeah, home."

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In the words of a friend, "I'M BACK IN THE GAME!" 

- Lily