The Fidelity World_Shattered

by Somer Grey

  I don't know how long I sat in tears in front of the doorway to hell, but the minute I entered the apartment something changed. My eyes were dry, my soul drained, and my heart was as hard as stone.

  For some reason, I recalled the children’s game that kids often played to determine who would go first—rock, paper, scissors. The rock broke scissors. Paper covered rock. And scissors cut paper. Independently, each had the strength to beat the other, but together they were unstoppable.

  My heart was the rock, my knowledge was the paper, and by God, in that moment I became determined that I would be the scissors. Knowledge was my gift. My broken heart was my determination, and every motherfucking person who’d hurt me was my strength. The scissors would cut, the paper would reveal, and the rock would break each one of them. I made myself a promise: they would all bleed by my hand. It may not be today but it will happen someday.

  As I looked around the empty apartment, I felt the change in the atmosphere—cold and unwelcoming. It held an odor of superiority and entitlement, not the sexy citrusy scent from the past. Even the sweet scent of a lavender candle couldn’t mask the foul smell. The eeriness shook me to the core.

  The apartment appeared the same as the day I’d moved in. Everything had been cleaned. No one who walked in now would believe that a violent rape had taken place within these walls only days before.

  Memories of the horrid night flashed before my eyes day and night. It didn't matter if I was awake or asleep: all I saw were the faces of all the ones who hurt me. It wasn't just Bryce's face but also the face of the man who left me when I needed someone the most. I’d needed and craved comfort, but all I’d received was a dismissal. I was now alone with an eviction notice. However, I didn’t need to leave yet. I had one month to fester in my poor decisions and nurture the vengeful bitch who was coming to life within me.

  I wasn't the only one who would pay the debt of lies and deceit. No matter the cost, others also had overdue payments to make—and they would, as long as I had anything to say about it.

  I’d wanted Bryce to pay for his sins but the constant reminders of my agreement gave me doubts in the pursuit of justice. The question was no longer if Bryce would pay, but how he would pay.

  I also had an internal battle brewing within me, questioning who else would be punished and who would be indebted for my suffering. Bryce had stolen a piece of me when he refused to stop when I begged. However, he wasn't the only one who took from me. Others confiscated something even more precious than my body: they’d taken my soul.

  Just as the nurse from the hospital hammered the final nail into the casket that held my mental peace, the letter from Infidelity drove the final nail into my heart.

  Emotionally, I was dead, and revenge would be served to those who stole my life from me.

  Chapter 18

  Truth or Justice

  Melissa

  I sat alone in the apartment for two days before I finally picked up the phone and called someone for help. I tried to be strong and believe in all the words I’d said to myself only days before, but the truth was that I was too exhausted to fight. My body hurt, and my mind constantly replayed the rape. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to battle the demons by myself anymore. I needed help to heal, and there was only one person who had always been there for me: my mother.

  “Mom, I need you,” I cried into the phone for help.

  “Melissa, what’s wrong, honey?” Her voice was soft.

  “Please. I need you to come here.”

  “Okay, honey. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please, tell me what’s wrong.” The panic in her voice rushed through the phone.

  “I can’t. Please don’t hate me.” That was the last thing I said as I hung up the phone. I knew that my mother would worry and fear the worst, but I didn’t have the words. She called repeatedly, but I wouldn’t answer. I couldn’t tell her on the phone what had happened.

  What would I say? “Mom, I was raped, and your best friend’s husband paid me for sex.”

  My mother and father arrived in less than twenty-four hours after my call. She’d packed their bags, and then they drove the fifteen hours straight from Myrtle Beach to Evanston. I knew they would have questions about the apartment and why I wasn’t in a dorm like I’d told them. I wasn’t able or willing to talk about it. I just needed my mother to comfort me.

  From the time she arrived, my mother held me and let me cry, never questioning what had happened. Bruises and marks were still visible all over my body. She had to know, but allowed me the opportunity to cope without demanding answers.

  My father tried his best to be patient, but he wanted and needed to know who hurt his daughter. He pushed for details—he wanted someone punished. I wasn’t able or ready to open up to anyone. It would be hard enough to tell my mother. How does one tell her father she was raped? It was my mother who convinced my father to head back to Myrtle Beach. She knew it would be easier for me if we were alone.

  Peyton became the hero when my mother learned how much he’d helped me over the months. He added insult to injury when he stopped by the apartment to offer us the use of his private plane to return us home instead of flying commercial. But it was all an act. He was a chameleon. The minute my mother left the room, his fury rained down on me. He reached over and squeezed my upper arm, pulling me closer. “Melissa, if they find out the truth about us, you’ll regret it.”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “Sweetheart, you haven’t felt hurt yet.” Though his voice was low, the heat of his breath was on my ear. “Remember what I said. I pulled some strings. Your rape report and the evidence they collected have been destroyed. As far as the police are concerned, you had a misunderstanding with Spencer. Sex games. Do. You. Understand?”

  “Yes.” My resolve to not let him see more of my emotion dissolved as tears fell.

  Peyton pulled me into his embrace as my mother walked back into the room. “Everything will be okay, Melissa. You can come back to work at Harrison.” He patted me on the back. His last words were under his breath. “Never step foot in my company again, or you will regret it.”

  “Peyton,” my mother said. “I can't thank you enough for everything.” She came closer and hugged him.

  I stared in disbelief as he fucking smiled at her and patted my arm where only moments before he’d had it in a death grip. It made me sick how quickly and easily he’d lied, not to mention the way my mother fawned over his kindness. It wasn’t my mother’s fault she praised him so much. Hell, I’d been the one who’d told her the damn lie in the first place.

  Once Peyton left, I fell into my mother's arms and bared my soul, telling her everything that had happened with Bryce, everything except his name. She listened and never judged or criticized me for any of my actions. Of course, she only knew half the story. I couldn’t risk any more than I’d already lost.

  Though, I still wanted Bryce to pay for what he did, I hoped if I walked away quietly, Peyton and Infidelity wouldn't pursue me. It was my only comfort in the nightmare.

  We flew home the following week. When I packed, I left one item in the apartment that I’d brought—the key necklace. I didn't want any memories of this fucking place or of Peyton.

  From the time we arrived home, my father never stopped badgering me. His insistence to contact the police never ended, but I refused. He wanted both legal and monetary compensation for me. The person who hurt me needed to be brought to justice and the apartment building needed to pay financially for lack of security.

  “Melissa, you deserve for someone to be punished. If we sue that damn apartment complex for your being hurt, you could go to any college you want,” my father bellowed at me.

  Damn, didn’t he think I wanted justice for what happened to me? I was scared. I had to worry about more than Bryce. I also had Infidelity and Peyton hanging over my head. I lived in fear, thinking of all of the Infidelity rules that I’d broken. Recalling the dismissal letter, the possible penalties they could enfo
rce against me kept me up most nights.

  Over a month had passed since I had arrived home, and no one had contacted me. The nightmares of the rape were regular—every night and often all-night long. The only positive thing was that Peyton no longer haunted me. He had moved on with his life and left me alone. I kept close tabs on Bryce through tabloids. He had gone back to Savannah and the life that waited for him. It made me sick every time his image was captured in the paper, smiling and happy.

  Fuck, even though I still wanted that bastard to pay, I’d begun to believe that as long as I kept my mouth shut, I would be safe. Besides, revenge was best served cold. Isn’t that the saying?

  I’d spent too much time alone, replaying the last six months in my head. I needed to move on and live my life. To that end, I decided to sign up for online classes for the fall semester. Business no longer interested me. I wanted to do something that would allow me to help other people. At first, I decided upon nursing school. And then I changed my mind, deciding to help other abused women, possibly as a counselor.

  Perhaps Bryce’s fan-club bitch nurse was one of the reasons I changed from my original major of business and into a profession that helped people. I just hoped that one day she and karma would have a nice get-together that included Bryce.

  “Melissa, you have mail,” my mother said as she walked back toward my room and knocked on the open door. “How was today?”

  “Better.” I smiled at her.

  She handed me the letter. “There’s no return address.”

  My brow arched, and panic soared through me as my mother turned to walk away.

  “Mom, please stay.”

  She nodded and took my hand.

  I flipped it over. It was just a plain white envelope typed with my name and address. I pulled the flap open and found a newspaper clipping folded in half, and a sticky note was attached to the inside.

  Melissa,

  Call Tim at 312-xxx-xxxx

  I pulled off the sticky note and read the headline.

  “Another Rape Cover-up or Was it a Hoax?”

  A cold shiver shook my body and a coating of sweat covered my skin as I scanned the article. Who the hell knew about this, and who the hell would want it public?

  The answer to the second question was no one. So who had opened the Pandora’s box? The article detailed all of my injuries, dates of the incident, and even a copy of my medical report with my name blacked out. The first line was in bold.

  Edward Bryce Spencer of Savannah, Georgia, was accused of raping an eighteen-year-old student of Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. Mr. Spencer denied the claim, stating that the act was consensual. After the incident and the initial charge, the student disappeared and hasn’t reported back to Northwestern. An Internet search has found this student back in her hometown of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Another cover-up? Why were the charges never filed, and where did the initial report go?

  The article didn’t end there. It included the location of the alleged rape, including the address, and listed Peyton Harrison as the leaseholder.

  Terror surged through me, my body falling to the floor as I wrapped my arms around myself. Lying in the fetal position, I closed my eyes and rocked, praying it would all go away.

  “Melissa! Melissa! Oh my God, what’s wrong?” My mother’s voice rose each time she called my name, and yet each time she was more distant as I entered my own world.

  Screams I didn’t even recognize erupted from inside me as fear pushed me back into the past. Time stopped, and I was transported back into Peyton’s bedroom with Bryce on top of me. All of the pain and memories flashed back until I saw only black.

  “Melissa, darling, are you awake?” my mother asked as she lay on my bed next to me, her arms tightly wrapped around my waist.

  “Yeah, Mom, please tell me it was a dream. I can’t relive it again. I can’t.” I rolled into my mother’s embrace for comfort.

  “Darling, I wish I could, but I can’t.” She lifted my chin so that our eyes would meet and smiled. Sitting up, my mother reached for my hairbrush on the nightstand and softly pulled it through my hair as she did when I was a little girl. She combed through it and held me and let me cry until sleep overtook me.

  The sun was shining through my window as voices rang from the other room, waking me from my rest. “Why would you release the report to the press? Melissa was just starting to live her life again.” My mother sounded angry. Though her voice was low, every word held contempt.

  “Someone needed to pay,” my father replied. “Fuck, Maggie. Melissa won’t go to the police. At least this way someone is held accountable. These people have millions, and the only thing they understand is money.”

  “How did you even find out the name?”

  “Maggie,” Regina’s voice said, “someone needs to be punished.”

  “Keep your voice down. Melissa finally fell asleep.”

  My angry mother seemed to be the only person who cared more about me than fucking justice or money.

  I couldn’t take anymore. The little bit I’d overheard told me enough.

  My father was responsible for the news release. He was the one who’d opened a Pandora’s box. I grabbed my phone, car keys, and the article that was on my dresser and went out the back door before anyone would see me. I drove to the same spot on the beach where I had sat the night of my graduation dinner.

  The air was warm, and the sun shone down on the sand filled with people. As many people that were here, the beach was still somewhere I could be alone. I debated in my head what I needed to do next.

  Calls to Peyton and Infidelity were at the top of the list. I needed to forewarn them of the fallout. It wasn’t like I owed them loyalty. I considered it more of a preemptive strike. I also wondered if I should call the guy from the sticky note and explain that the incident was a misunderstanding—as Peyton had called it—but my stomach clenched and twisted with that lie.

  I didn’t want this circus. I also refused to ruin any more of my life or reputation. My father had opened the Pandora's box. He thought it contained the answer to justice. It didn’t. It held my life, and now once again, it was in shambles.

  When I reached for my phone, the one I’d silenced, I saw the screen. I had nine missed phone calls. Hell, on a typical day, I wouldn’t have any calls at all. I scrolled the numbers—five missed calls were from my mother. I’d gone to the beach because I didn’t want to talk to anyone—not even her. And then I thought about just sending her a text, but after all she’d done for me, she deserved a call to let her know that I was okay and just needed some time to be alone.

  Three of the numbers were from Illinois, and one was unknown. I listened to the voicemails left.

  Detective March: “Miss Summers, I need you to call me.”

  Detective March: “Miss Summers, please call. It is urgent that you return my call.”

  Detective March: “Miss Summers. If I do not hear from you, a subpoena will be issued for you to return to Evanston to give a formal statement.”

  The last message was from someone else.

  Bryce: “You fucking whore. Do you think that you or your white-trash family can ruin my life with blackmail? I will destroy you.”

  Chapter 19

  Running

  Melissa

  “Tell us what happened, Miss Summers.”

  I sat in an interview room of the Evanston police department. My mother, father, and Regina waited in another place as I answered questions about the night Bryce attacked me. The detective was serious when he said they would issue a subpoena for me to return to Evanston. I was served just days after his call and was required to be back the following week.

  The article that was printed in the paper made the department and Detective March look incompetent, and they were none too happy. The release of my rape report made it appear that special favors were doled out and possible compensation paid to look the other way.

  "Where did you meet Bryce?” Detective Ma
rch had been badgering me for an hour.

  The questions came fast but my answers were slow. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember, and I also didn’t want to involve Infidelity nor Peyton in this mess. They deserved to be, but what would it accomplish now? Nothing but more problems for me. I shook my head and repeated the same answer for the fifth time. “Bryce approached me and invited me upstairs at the club Final Stand.”

  “Why are you claiming rape now when you said back in May that it wasn’t rape. I think your words were that it was a misunderstanding.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

  Rage poured through me. “I never said shit to you. I believe it was Peyton Harrison who informed you that my rape was a ‘misunderstanding.’” I used my fingers as quotation marks to prove my point. “No one asked me fucking shit! No one followed up with me! No one!”

  “Miss Summers, I came to your hospital room and tried to talk to you, if you remember.” His voice raised a notch, but it was the tone that gave away his mood—pissed. “You refused to talk.”

  “I was in fucking shock.” Defeated. That’s how I felt. I played my words over on what I just said. Peyton Harrison… Fuck! Damn! I leaned back and took a deep breath. I just brought Peyton into this shit. Detective March tried to provoke me to make me slip up. I was just where he wanted me—in quicksand and sinking fast.

  “Oh, yes. You mentioned Peyton Harrison.” He stopped and flipped papers over one at a time to delay until he found the one he wanted. “Let’s review what I know, shall we. In May, you were brought to the hospital beaten. Mr. Harrison claimed Bryce Spencer broke into his apartment and brutally raped you. Demanded we arrest him.” He leaned down and got right in my face. “Does that sound familiar?” He waited, and when I didn’t respond, he continued. “Based on those claims, my partner interviewed Mr. Spencer, and do you know what he said?”