Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  I jump when I hear the doorbell ring. Forcing myself to sit up, I notice I am drenched in sweat. Slowly shifting to get out of bed, I hear a light knock at my door.

  “Can I come in?” Dad says.

  “Yes.”

  “This was just returned to you,” he says, handing me my phone. “They, ah, had to keep it last night to go through it, check it for evidence.”

  I take the phone from his hand and wipe some dirt off the front of it. I push the little round button at the bottom and unlock the screen, seeing that I have multiple notifications for e-mails and text messages. I toss the phone over to my bed, not ready for contact with the outside world just yet.

  “I think I’m finally hungry; can you pick up some Chinese?” I ask.

  “Of course. Anything in particular you want?”

  “I would love some kung pao shrimp.” A small smile crosses my dad’s face.

  “Anything you want. Do you want me to invite Gabe over?” I don’t even hesitate when I answer him.

  “How about just you and me tonight, Dad?” He nods but looks at me questioningly.

  “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

  I hear him grabbing his keys and locking the front door before I hear the rumble of his truck taking off down the street. I realize for the first time that I have not showered since yesterday morning and I know I have traces of that man on my body. Stripping myself of all my clothes, I move as quickly as I can into the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as it’ll go.

  I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth. I then pull out some mouthwash out from underneath the sink. Swishing a huge mouthful around, I let it sting the insides of my mouth before spitting it into the sink. The bathroom is filling with steam as I step into the shower. Turning it down just a little, it’s to the point where I can just barely tolerate the heat. Letting the water run down my head, my face, and my body, I grab my loofah and pour body wash all over it, frantically washing my body.

  I want all traces of last night off of me. I scrub my face, my arms, my legs, and stomach. I drop the loofah to the floor of the shower and grab my body wash, squirting some in my hand. I lower my hand between my legs and gently rub the scented soap between my legs. I’m sore, and for the first time, I realize how violated my body is. No one other than Gabe has left his mark on me, and here I feel where another man has been, uninvited.

  Finishing my shower, I wrap a large bath towel around myself. Walking to my bed, I reach for my dirt-covered cell phone. Opening the main screen, I open my text messages and text Gabe.

  I need you. Please come over.

  Drying myself, I wait impatiently to see if he’ll respond. It must not have even been a minute that I sent that text message, but I hear Gabe unlock the front door, close it, and re-lock it. The sounds of his heavy footsteps are just outside my door and then there is a soft knock.

  “Everything okay?” he asks, concerned. His hand is still on the doorknob as he stands in my doorway, looking at me standing in nothing more than a bath towel.

  “Close the door,” I say. Following my instructions, he slowly moves to close the door, yet keeps his distance from me.

  “Make love to me,” I tell him.

  “Jess,” he sighs, walking towards me with pained eyes.

  “Make love to me.” I raise my voice at him. He’s standing in front of me, each of his hands holding both of my arms.

  “You’re not ready for that. Your body needs to heal,” he says quietly.

  “I need to feel you, please. All I feel is him, and I need to feel you,” I cry.

  “I want nothing more than to make love to you, but we have to let your body heal.”

  “Screw you!” I lash out, pulling myself out of his hold. “This disgusts you, doesn’t it?” I say, dropping my towel to the floor and pointing to my bruised body. He stands there, moving his eyes up and down the front of me, taking in the sight of my bruised and battered flesh. He’s shaking his head no, but I know what he’s thinking.

  “Say it!” I yell at him. “I disgust you, don’t I?”

  “Stop saying that. You’ll never disgust me.” He’s angry and I can see him shaking slightly.

  “Then make love to me. Please,” I beg. My tone has gone from angry to sad. Tears are threatening to spill out of my eyes while he stands looking at me. He has never denied me sexually, until now.

  He speaks quietly. “I can’t. Please understand this is not good for you, for us.”

  “Get out of here!” I cry, tears finally spilling down my face. My body is shaking, and my chest is heaving. I feel like I could pass out. Bending down, I reach for the towel I dropped to the ground and wrap it around my body tightly. He doesn’t move. His hands are balled into fists, but his sympathetic eyes remain on me.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” I yell at him again as I turn quickly and walk away, making my escape into the bathroom across the hall.

  Locking the door behind me, I sit down on the toilet seat and grab another bath towel to bury my face and the sounds of my sobs in. After minutes of crying, I finally hear Gabe’s shoes carrying him down the hallway. Holding my breath, I hear him pause, opening the front door and then closing it with a light click of the lock. It’s then that I drop the towel I was holding in my shaky hands to the ground. I slide off of the toilet and onto the cool tile floor and curl into a ball. I know I’ve lost him.

  Chapter 20

  Gabe

  As I walk in the front door of my house, Ava nearly jumps into my arms.

  “That was quick. How is she?”

  I honestly have no words for what just happened. I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around the last twenty-four hours and everything Jess is experiencing. I’m so confused; she’s pushing me away one minute, then pulling me back in the next, then pushing me away again. I shrug at Ava as I watch the confusion settle in on her face.

  “I don’t know. I honest to God, just don’t know,” I mutter, feeling the back of my throat tighten.

  My worst fears settle in. I’m afraid I’ve lost the girl that I’ve always known; the sweet, innocent girl I’ve fallen in love with. She’s emotionally broken; a shell of the Jess I knew. Mom and Dad walk into the living room where I’m standing with Ava. Mom pulls me into a tight embrace, holding me just like she used to do when I was young. It’s amazing that a mother’s embrace can still have the same effect when you’re an adult.

  “Mijo, how is she?” Mom whispers to me as she continues to hug me.

  She only calls me “Mijo” when she’s concerned. As I shrug my shoulders, Dad moves in on our hug and wraps himself around both Mom and me. I allow myself to cry again, not for me, but for Jess. For that broken spirit I just left crying in her bathroom, for everything that has happened to her, and everything I couldn’t do to protect her.

  As I pull myself together and wipe the stray tears off of my face, Mom gently tugs my hand and leads me to the couch. I throw myself down, sinking into the soft leather couch and stretching my legs on the coffee table. Ava quietly sits down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder.

  It’s so quiet in here. None of us know what to say or what to do, so we sit silently, deep in thought. I realize that in some instances, there are no words to be spoken. The mere presence and support of your family is all the comfort and love that you need.

  Finally breaking the silence, I explain every detail of what happened, as best we know it. Mom sits and cries, as does Ava, who is holding my hand. Everyone just sits and listens to me talk and cry.

  “Jessica has been through a very traumatic physical and emotional experience,” Dad says, shifting in his seat. He knows that anything he says to me will not truly bring me peace, but he tries.

  “She needs time. She is going to be erratic with her emotions; you have to accept that and be patient.”

  Nodding my head in agreement, I know this, but I want her better. I want my Jess back. Standing up from the couch, I head to my room to try to sleep, when all I want to do is to lie in b
ed, curled up next to her, breathing in the smell of her coconut-scented skin. I think of her lying in her bed all alone, wondering if she’s afraid, what she’s thinking, and if she’s missing me as much as I miss her.

  Looking out my bedroom window, I can see the front of her house, including her bedroom window, which is dark. Chief’s pick-up truck is in the driveway, and the porch light is on. I consider going back over there to try to talk to her and explain myself better, but I talk myself out of it. “She needs time,” I hear my dad saying. Lying back down, I close my eyes and try to let sleep come to me. I’m beyond exhausted.

  I wake up to the sun peeking through my blinds, and it startles me. I am almost always awake before the sun is out. Rolling over quickly, I look at my alarm clock and it reads ten-thirty. Jumping out of bed, I get myself together quickly and am easily ready in fifteen minutes. My stomach is in knots, and I just want to get to her house. Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, I run down the stairs, leaving without speaking to anyone. I could hear Mom, Dad, and Ava in the kitchen, but I’m too nervous to talk to anyone. I need to see Jess.

  The walk across the street is almost unbearable. Chief’s truck is gone, and I hope that she is home. He most likely is back to work already.

  “Bastard,” I say under my breath as I knock on the door.

  I can hear the lock click, and the door slowly opens, but only halfway. Jess is standing there in a black tank top and a pair of black underwear. Her swollen, bloodshot eyes bring out the bright green color of her irises. Even swollen, bruised, and crying, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Taking a deep breath, I collect my wits and gather my strength.

  “Can I come in?” I ask quietly.

  She opens the door all the way, and steps back, allowing me in. I walk into her living room and she closes the door. Taking a seat on her couch, she drapes a large cream blanket over her long, bare legs.

  “Can I sit down next to you?” I ask, careful to ask her for permission. Jess still hasn’t said anything to me; she just watches me with those cautious, swollen eyes.

  “Yes,” she finally says.

  I move next to her and sit down, reaching out to push her long hair back off of her shoulder. She flinches when my fingers brush the top of her shoulder, and I pull my hand back immediately. The thought of my touch hurting her, or upsetting her, sends bile to my mouth.

  “Um, Jess…” I say, pausing when she pulls her eyes from mine and looks at her hands, which are folded in her lap. “There are a million things I want to say to you and to tell you…” She still won’t look at me. Fuck. “I love you. I have always loved you...”

  “Stop. I need you to listen to me for a minute before you say anything else,” Jess says, interrupting me mid-sentence.

  Giant tears roll down her face. I reach out slowly, pausing for her permission to wipe them off of her cheeks, and she pulls back from me again. What the fuck?

  “I need you to let me go,” she says.

  My stomach clenches and my heart is racing. I feel like I might vomit.

  “Two days ago changed who I am and who I will be forever.”

  I can’t even listen to this.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” I ask angrily. I’m not angry; I’m hurt. Before I even let her answer, I continue, “You are not leaving me, Jessica. You do not get to throw us away because of what happened to you.”

  She raises both of her hands to cover her face. The tears are leaking out from underneath her hands, running down her arms, and her entire body is shaking.

  “I love you. But please stop pushing me away. We will work through this together.”

  She shakes her head no, never letting her hands leave her face. She gasps for breaths in between her sobs. My body is shaking from my emotions, which are fluctuating between sadness and anger. Why is she pushing me away?

  “Is that what you really want? You want me to let you go? Say it again. Mean it.” Her face is still buried in her hands, and her entire body is trembling.

  “Tell me right now that you really want me gone, for good, and I’ll leave you alone. Is that what you want?” Dropping her hands from her face, they fall into her lap almost lifeless.

  “Look at me,” I whisper. She raises her head slowly, looking directly at me. “Do you really want me to leave you?” I take one of my hands and slowly reach it out to touch hers. She doesn’t pull back from my reach this time. I tighten my hand around hers, squeezing it lightly, and she squeezes mine back gently.

  “I need you to leave,” she chokes out, pushing my hand away. My heart stops in this moment. I swear to God, the world stopped moving. I gather what little strength I have and, on wobbly legs, stand up.

  “If that’s what you want, Jess. I’ll go.”

  She drops her head forward and wraps her arms tightly around her waist. Her body is limp as she quietly nods her head yes at me. I don’t know how my legs carry me to the front door, but they do. Reaching for the handle, I pause, turning back to look at her. Opening the door slowly, I step onto the front porch.

  I offer up the few words I have left in me. “I will love you forever. Forever. Don’t you ever forget that.” I summon the energy to slowly shut the door on everything I have ever loved and walk away to the sounds of her loud sobs inside the house behind me.

  Chapter 21

  Jess

  I rest my head on the edge of the toilet seat and try to catch my breath in between my bouts of vomiting and crying. Wiping my nose on the sleeve of my shirt, I muster the strength to push myself into a sitting position. My lungs are burning, and my stomach won’t stop clenching, causing me to dry heave. I just pushed the most important person in my life, the only man I’ve ever loved, out of my life, and I’m not even sure why. Another wave of nausea hits, and I’m hunched back over the toilet again, spewing nothing but stomach acid, as I haven’t eaten much in two days. Closing my eyes, I rest my head back on the toilet seat. I know it’ll be just a matter of time before I throw up again.

  I wake up, realizing I must have fallen asleep on the bathroom floor. My face is pressed to the cold tile. Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I am overcome with dizziness and my head is pounding. I feel hung over, but I know it’s from the hours, make that days, that I’ve spent crying and throwing up. Taking a minute to get my bearings, I stand up and walk myself over to the sink. Grabbing my toothbrush, I spread a sizeable amount of toothpaste across the soft bristles and brush my teeth and mouth.

  Standing upright, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I don’t even recognize myself. I am a shell of what I used to look like. My skin is pale and light compared to my normal olive skin tone. I’m still covered in bruises; some have started to heal, casting a greenish-yellow hue to them. My brown hair is stringy and dry, unlike its normal full, bouncy waves. My lips are light pink, cracked, and dry, instead of plump and bright pink. I don’t even know who the fuck I’m looking at in the mirror. A single tear falls from my eye, and I watch it trail down my cheek, falling as it lands on the bathroom counter.

  ****

  For two weeks, I’ve stayed holed up in my house. I’ve successfully avoided any contact with Gabe, Ava, and any of the Garcias, for that matter. I’ve ignored phone calls from the detectives working my case, and calls for follow-up doctor appointments. I’ve successfully shut the rest of the world out. Dad has spent almost every day working—his coping mechanism—and I have spent two weeks on the couch, watching bad reality shows—my coping mechanism—remaining numb to life outside of my own. I waver back and forth between blaming Gabe for going to work that night, to understanding that this isn’t his fault. I want so badly to find a reason to hate him, so that my actions in pushing him away are justified, but my heart could never hate him.

  Last week was spring break, and so far for this week, I have skipped all my classes. One week of missed classes won’t set me too far behind, but I’m just not ready to face the outside world yet. I’ve been dodging calls and voicemails from my academic advisor.
I know she is calling to discuss my internship, and that is the furthest thing from my mind. Janet’s ears must have been burning, as my phone rings again, and her familiar number flashes across the screen.

  “Hello?” I answer quietly.

  “Jessica? This is Janet, Janet Collins from SRSU. I’ve left you a couple of voice messages. We need to talk about your internship. We have a problem.” As if I can deal with one more problem in my life right now. I sit, silently crying, listening to dead air, not even sure I care about what she has to tell me. Finally, I sniffle, breaking the silence.

  “Jessica, are you all right?”

  “Actually, no, I’m not,” I speak, barely audible.

  “It’s just an internship; we’ll get you another one,” she says. I didn’t realize that my other one had fallen through, but I guess that’s why she’s calling me.

  “Your local internship was cancelled due to mandatory cuts at the station. They couldn’t take on supervising interns while they are reducing staff. They just don’t have the resources,” she says, sounding regretful.

  “I understand,” I respond, still sniffling.

  “But I have an opportunity I want to talk to you about. I know you don’t want to leave California, but it’s a really, really good opportunity. I’d like to discuss it with you. Will you please be open to speaking with me about it?” Silence fills the phone line between us.

  “Sure,” I whisper.

  “Good. Be at my office at three o’clock. We have to jump on this fast.” She doesn’t even say goodbye before hanging up the phone. When I check the time on my cell phone, I see that it’s already one o’clock, and I need to shower and see if I can somehow make myself look presentable. Dragging myself off the couch, I decide it’s now or never to face the real world.

  ****

  Hesitantly, I knock on Janet’s office door.