Tapout (The Submission Fighter Book 3)

Tapout (The Submission Fighter Book 3) by Sophia Hampton Read Free Book Online

Book: Tapout (The Submission Fighter Book 3) by Sophia Hampton Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sophia Hampton
It just happened. Instead, she paused, as she tried to tap into her memories.
     
    It came to her relatively quickly as a drip of old but fresh memories and sensations. “I remember a figure of a man leaning up against the big green garbage can. His arms were folded. I thought he was a regular stepping out for a smoke, so I nodded at him, and I think I said goodnight to him as I passed. He must have come at me from behind because I never saw much of his face. I had probably taken about twenty steps out of the door.”   
     
    “What did you see of him?”
     
    The lights of the room flashed—at least in Alice’s head. Her mind went blank as it began to transcend deeper into the places she had long tucked away. She did not want to remember this. She did not want to bring it to the surface. She wanted it to go away, forever, permanently.
     
    But there he was, at least, there were parts of him. She listed off the missing tooth, the dark features, and the long, black coat. The detective made notes of each of them, yet she could feel that this was all useless. They were tiny puzzle pieces that added up to nothing.
     
    She hesitated with the last part of the description, unsure if she had dreamed it or if it was real. Still, at this point, they were both grasping at straws. “Looking back, I think he may have had a tattoo. I remember seeing this little circular detail on his inner forearm when he was pinning me down. The coat covered most of it, but it was a bit higher than his wrist. It made a spiral.”
     
    The detective looked at her curiously, unsure if this was a note that was worthy of taking. She really did not seem like the girl who would make things up. But he knew what a couple months post a beating like that would do to the mind. Things get jumbled, memories go blank, and the mind puts in things it isn’t quite sure were there to begin with.
     
    Still, he pushed a piece of paper from his folder and a pen towards her and asked her to draw what she thought it may look like. Her tiny hands trembled under the weight of the plastic pen as she nervously traced the image in her mind. It was small and cut off, but she filled in the lines as best as she could. When finished, Alice slid the image back to him and watched as Crighton studied it. He looked down at his folder again and flipped through a couple of pages. He silently read some more details and then made a little note in the corner of the page and stuck her drawing to that page.  
     
    He continued to ask her more and more questions, as Alice went into detail about the actual attack. While she may have thought herself to be over it, the rawness of bringing it back to light and sharing it with someone new, someone she did not fully trust had brought her nearly to tears. The brutality of it all and having to relive it over and over again, as he pondered over every one of her details only made the process more difficult for her.
     
    When he finished, he stood, turned off the recorder, and outstretched his hands towards her. Alice wasn’t sure what the detective meant to do, but she gave him his her hand and watched in surprise as he helped her out of her chair. Her legs buckled a bit underneath her, as she finally stood straight up. She felt heavier than before, more unsteady with the ground. Detective Crighton looked on her with genuine concern, as he brought her outside to sit on a wooden bench.
     
    The air of the hallway was cool and crisp. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and checked the time. It was nearly eleven o’clock. She had been trapped in that room with her memories for over two hours, longer than she had thought. The detective returned with a plastic water bottle, which she quickly guzzled down, thankful for Crighton’s friendly gesture.
     
    He sat down next to her, looking older than his real age. He rubbed his hand over his face, as he bent forward. “I know this is really tough on you. No one wants to go through this, ever.

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