Wouldn’t be hard. She never did anything right. Screwed up even the simplest task. Like yesterday, when she packed the wrong shirts in his overnight bag. Why had she thought he’d want the same ones he’d taken on his last three trips?
She should have asked first, but knew better than to interrupt while he was watching the game. Besides, he’d have berated her for needing to ask.
Through clenched teeth, she drew in a slightly larger breath and ground her teeth as though it might take the edge off the pain ripping through her chest.
Voices drifted from the central portion of the room, where she’d glimpsed half a dozen men and women in scrubs sitting or standing at desks and computer terminals, or leaning against the glass walls. The sound had a comfortable rhythm, occasionally punctuated by soft laughter.
And there was no smell. In books—not that she’d been allowed to read for years—there were often references to an antiseptic smell in hospitals, but there wasn’t one here. In fact, the air was at worst somewhat stale.
Rachel was eventually wheeled down a long hallway to the X-ray room, where she was positioned carefully, and images were captured from two directions. The tech left her while he viewed the results, and when he returned, he took about a dozen more shots—from every conceivable angle—before she was taken back to the ER.
Tucked into a corner where it was even quieter than her other cubicle, she had a view of the entire nurses’ station, and the approach of a woman in green scrubs.
“I’m Dr. John,” she said, then smiled. “Dr. Penelope John, for the record. Tell me what happened, Rachel.”
She’d already told the story to the paramedics, then the nurse, and it was getting easier to admit to her foolishness, but she stuck to the lies. Assured the doctor it was a misstep while cleaning the windows, and she’d landed on a planter below.
“A misstep, indeed. You have three fractured ribs. But I’m curious about the other injuries.”
“Other?”
“The previous fractures.”
“I’m clumsy, and I like biking, but haven’t much luck at it.”
“Any chance you’ll tell me the truth instead?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
The doctor laid a hand on the blanket over Rachel’s foot, and both warmth and strength seeped through the woven fabric. “You and I both know someone in your life is hurting you.” Without blinking she added. “There are people who will help you get away from him to safety.”
“I don’t—”
The doctor held up her other hand. “I see it all the time, and I hear the excuses, but know this. There is never a good enough reason for someone to hurt you. And anyone who could cause the kind of damage I just saw on your X-rays is fully capable of killing you.”
Rachel couldn’t speak. Yes, she planned to make a run for it today, but to have this total stranger putting reality into words sent a new kind of sharp-edged fear slicing through her, and stole her breath in an entirely different way.
“I was trying to escape.”
“Will you accept help?”
“Yes.” The word came out strong and purposeful.
“How much time do you have?”
“He should be out of town for another two days, but he often comes home early.”
“Not surprising.” Dr. John was nodding, and her eyes narrowed. “Will you talk to the police?”
Oh, God. “No. He… he has connections. I just have to get away. Disappear.” She glanced past the doctor toward the other medical staff going about their business. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble for helping me. He’ll hurt someone.”
“No worries. We’re good at this.” She gave Rachel’s foot a squeeze. “Congratulations, you’ve got yourself off to a bumpy start, but kudos for the effort, and this day is about to get really, really good. We’ll give you something for the pain—the fractures are stable, and will heal on their own—and then we’re going to get you out of here, but it might take awhile, so you’ll have to just hang in there and believe. Okay?”
“Okay.” She tamped down the fear already crawling up her spine.
A dinner tray was delivered, but not another soul came into her cubicle, and no one even glanced her way in passing. It was as though she’d suddenly become invisible.
If only she’d been invisible to Richard. Even when he ignored her, he saw her every move. She suspected he could even read her mind.
Which was why she didn’t allow herself to think about getting away unless he was snoring. She was certain he occasionally pretended to be asleep so he could trip her up, but to fake snoring would be undignified.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled when yet another nurse walked by and quickly looked away. Something like expectancy filled the air.
Then a woman in boots, jeans, and a bulky winter coat swept into the cubicle. Her smile was gentle, and her eyes filled with concern.
“My name is Mavis Tilsen, and I’m a social worker here to help you.”
Oh, God, let the floor open and swallow me up. Richard will go ballistic when he finds out I was talking to a social worker. Rachel stayed silent. She’d be able to swear later that she hadn’t said a word.
Mavis laid a hand on Rachel’s foot, and, similar to when the doctor did the same thing, a curious warmth seeped through. Stole its way up her leg, and somehow warmed her better than the heated blanket they laid over her an hour or so earlier.
“I’m here to offer you help.”
Rachel shook her head.
Mavis shrugged a large messenger bag off her shoulder, and dropped it on a plastic chair. “Whatever kind of help you need, I can get it for you. Whether it’s someone to sit here and keep you company, or transportation to a women’s shelter, I’m your gal.”
She knows how stupid I am.
“At the very least, I can get you a ride home once you’re discharged.” She glanced at the big wall clock. “Which should be very soon.”
“No!” Shocked by the escape of a forbidden word, Rachel inhaled sharply, and only the pain shooting through her chest kept her from flinching away. She waited, not certain what to expect.
Mavis, without seeming to move, was much closer now, and her hand had moved to grip one of Rachel’s. Held tight.
“You need help.” She never broke eye contact. “It’s what I do. I can get you to a safe place where he can’t find you.”
Rachel’s heart fluttered and bounced around painfully. Did she dare? Wasn’t this what today was supposed to be about?
Tingling began in her fingertips and zipped up her arms. An alarm went off in the machine she was plugged into, and she swung to look at it. Heart rate one-fifty, BP two hundred over…her vision blurred.
A nurse stepped in.
“I’ve frightened her,” said Mavis.
The woman in pink and yellow scrubs frowned at Rachel. “You’re frightened by a chance to escape your abuser? I’ve seen your X-rays, lady, and if I were you, I’d grab this chance and run with it as fast as I could.”
She fiddled with dials, touched Rachel’s arm, and Rachel could swear electricity ran from there over to the hand Mavis still held—it was as though Rachel was the connection between two poles of a battery and energy filled her. Breathed life into the determination flattened by landing on the concrete planter—the one he’d only recently put there.
She should have checked, because Richard was constantly moving things to test her. To make sure she paid attention to details. When she was cleaning, every item had to be moved, then put back in exactly the right spot. She couldn’t rely on memory. Always had to measure the distance between a chair and the wall, or table, or…
“Rachel. Time is of the essence. We need to get underway before the window of opportunity closes,” said Mavis. “I know he’s out of town, but when would he normally call to check up on you?”
When Rachel didn’t answer, Mavis glanced at the plastic bag hanging on the hook. “Do you have a phone?”
>
“I left it in the house. Didn’t want the GPS…” Her voice trailed off. Was that stupid? Could a phone really have a tracking device built in? One he could use to find her?
“Smart. Very smart. When will he call?”
“I’m not sure. He was to land in Miami at six.”
“It’s six now.”
Rachel’s hand went to her throat.
“Miami is seven hours away, so even if he could grab a flight right away, we’ve got a decent window. Good planning, Rachel.”
“How do you know?”
“That you’ve been planning for a long time, and have every detail worked out? You’re a smart lady. You didn’t just happen to fall while cleaning windows. I’m just surprised he gave you such a perfect opportunity to escape.”
“Two hundred and sixty-two days I’ve waited. The windows are alarmed except the one in the third-floor bathroom. It’s very small, and he likes to have it open while he showers in the morning. I had to use the dining room chairs. Two side by side, and one on top of them, to get up high enough, and then I just barely fit through it.” But I was willing to die trying.
Mavis produced a pair of black leggings and a long black sweater from her satchel. “Best if you leave here wearing something out of character. Want me to bring this along?” She held the plastic bag from the end of the bed up close enough for Rachel to reach.
Rachel dug the wad of cash and photo from the pocket of her white slacks. “This is all I’m taking with me.” Richard was going to blow a gasket when he discovered the money from his emergency kit was gone, but two hundred and fifty dollars in small bills would be handy.
She scraped her hair back into a ponytail—a style Richard hated and would never allow—and stuffed it under the ball cap Mavis gave her. It was dark green, and had frizzy red hair poking out from underneath.
With nothing but the money and a tiny snapshot of Tink, Rachel left the cubicle.
They headed down the long hallway, and out a side exit.
She felt exposed, and it had nothing to do with not wearing underwear.
Mavis took her arm and guided her to a nondescript gray compact parked close by. The engine was running, and the driver was turned away from them, apparently scanning the lot. Rachel could see nothing but long, blond hair.
Popping open the back door, Mavis said, “In you go, and lie down across the seat.”
Rachel did as she was told, and Mavis slipped into the front.
“Everything okay?” asked the driver, and Rachel was startled to hear a male voice reply.
Mavis peered between the seats at her. “It’s okay, really. Disguises are part of the job, and Dan goes for the gender switch, since many of the women we transport are uncomfortable in a man’s presence.”
“Why disguises?” Stupid question. They were helping her—and others of course—escape.
“Dan’s on the police force, and I’m a firefighter. We never know when we might bump into someone who knows us.”
“I thought you said you were a hospital social worker.”
“I lied.”
Rachel’s heart shot up the back of her throat. Were they working for her husband?
“We got an anonymous call shortly after you were found. The woman said she suspected you were a domestic violence victim and were trying to escape.”
Words rolled around in her head. I’m Noreen, and I’m going to get you the help you need.
She was momentarily stupefied, because it had been years since anyone paid attention to her or what she needed.
“Life’s going to be complicated for a while. But we have an awesome team to get you through it.”
“Through what?” They could drop her at a mall. She’d get on a bus and vanish. Buy fake ID. Get a job. She had everything worked out.
“Legal proceedings will be complicated. Your injuries weren’t from him—at least not this time—so it’s not a clear-cut case of ‘look what he did to this woman.’”
Rachel shook her head vehemently and was immediately nauseous. The meds hadn’t dealt with all the pain yet.
“No charges. No point. They’ll never stick. He’s powerful. No one would believe what he’s like. He’ll prove I’m stupid and clumsy, and he was only trying to give me a good life.” How many times had she heard him say exactly that?
“You need to go through the steps, tell the whole story—everything, including the degrading and humiliating details. Only then will the authorities know if they can build a case, make the charges stick.”
She was suddenly cold, like when she woke up on the floor of the shower whenever she fainted. “I can’t face him in court.”
“Are you not the woman who waited two hundred and sixty-two days for an opportunity to squeeze out a tiny window onto a ledge thirty feet from the ground, and then jump to your freedom? Don’t talk to me about what you can’t do, because there is nothing you can’t do. You are courage and tenacity personified.”
The driver held up his hand. “And you’ll have a strong team at your back—because nobody has an endless supply of brave.”
Rachel’s slow smile came unbidden. “Like now.”
“Like now.”
She closed her eyes and drifted, thinking back over how she’d botched her escape by not looking over the edge. Blindly sliding down the overhang and dropping to the ground feetfirst. Hitting the planter.
God, how she wished she’d had whatever drugs she was on now the last ten or so times she had broken ribs.
“If you’re awake back there, it’s okay to sit up now.”
There was nothing to see in the pitch black of night. And it suddenly occurred to her she was in a car with total strangers and had no clue what was going to happen next.
But really? Nothing could be worse than what she’d been through at the hands of a man who swore he loved her. A man she loved. Trusted. Until…
And she’d been stupid enough in the beginning to believe he would change, even though he kept her prisoner with locks requiring a key from the inside and out, and windows sealed shut and rigged to an alarm on his phone.
She felt helpless until the night he choked her for so long she blacked out—which wasn’t unusual—and she opened her eyes to him standing over her, fully dressed in outdoor gear, tapping the side of her head with the toe of his boot.
That was when she first heard “the voice.” The one she learned to trust. Don’t move.
Richard tapped harder, drew back as though taking aim, then spun on his heel and left.
He was about to kill me, she thought.
Yes, he was. The voice again. It was low, and carried a tone of peacefulness. You need to get away.
Who are you?
Matters not. Unlike me, you only have one life, and it’s going to end ugly if you don’t do something.
She sat up with care. Looked around, but couldn’t find the source of the voice. Where are—?
You can’t see me. I’m a guardian cat.
A guardian? Like an angel?
By the time I bumped into my ninth fatal mistake, I wasn’t exactly angel material.
I can hear you, but you’re dead?
Yes, although I feel quite alive.
Was she hallucinating this internal conversation? She should get off the floor, get cleaned up before Richard came back.
But she had until tomorrow. He was always gone at least a day when he left in his hiking boots. He’d spend the night in the mountain cabin. Maybe even two nights if she was lucky.
I was serious. You need to work out how to get away from him.
Later that night, while she fought waves of nausea, she and the guardian had a long conversation, and he explained how he was allowed to step in when a life was about to end, and try to help figure out alternatives to what was about to happen.
Rachel told him her ideas, and he encouraged her to keep working on them. He’d gone then, left her on her own, and she hadn’t heard his voice in her head again until she found herself crumple
d and broken on the sidewalk, barely able to draw a breath.
Now she was going somewhere with complete strangers, and an eerie calm settled over her.
She was out. And had to make sure Richard never found her.
She put a hand to the frizzy red hair. Her own was long and straight and midnight black. She would be glad to cut it off. Maybe even dye it a mousy brown color, something Richard wouldn’t even give a second glance.
He abhorred mousy and plain.
The car slowed, and a rusty mailbox was briefly lit by the headlights when they turned into a narrow lane dotted with tufts of grass growing between the deep ruts.
“Ever been on a farm, Rachel?”
“I grew up on one. Was desperate to leave. Longed for the excitement of the city.” Tears burned at the backs of her eyes. Oh, to have such innocence back.
“This one has been empty too long, and there’s no livestock—but it’s a good place to hang out and wait for the process to get started. You’re welcome to putter in the garden, or poke around in the outbuildings. We keep food and water up in the loft for the barn cats.”
“I’d like to say you’re perfectly safe here because of our impeccable alarm system,” said Dan, “but there’s a slim possibility a drone could slip into our airspace. With that in mind, you’ll find a selection of straw hats, wigs, and coveralls in the mudroom.”
Floodlights suddenly lit the whole yard, and they parked between the house and barn.
“Hang tight for five,” he said, and climbed out.
“The security is top-notch,” said Mavis. “But he’ll check to make sure nothing has been tampered with. He’ll leave us here then, and come back once arrangements have been made for you to meet with law enforcement and make a statement.”
“Law enforcement?” She wasn’t pressing charges.
“Domestic violence is against the law, Rachel.”
“Who would take my word against his?”
“You need to talk to them. See if they can build a case.”
“If they got him to court, I’d have to testify.” Nausea slithered down the back of her throat, swirled in her gut.
Betrayed: Powerful Stories of Kick-Ass Crime Survivors Page 17