Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  Revving the engine several times, he stared stoically ahead refusing to look at her, though she kept calling his name. Then she watched as he shifted the car angrily into gear, and sped out of the field. The tires of his car leaving shreds of grass and dirt spinning in the air, like a small tornado.

  Richard left her in the middle of the school’s football field, crying on her knees in the pouring rain. She never saw him again.

  Then, one beautifully sunny morning in church, she looked up at the pulpit, and there he stood, as handsome as she remembered. Her prayers were finally answered, she thought. He was about to deliver the Sunday morning sermon for their sick minister.

  It had been twenty-five long years. She had patiently waited. Smiling, Jean Carter was transported back in time.

  Chapter 17

  Physically and mentally exhausted, Lorna let out a small cry as she got out of her car like an elderly woman suffering from arthritis. She had gotten another note in her mailbox; her father had found her, she thought in despair.

  She did not know how, but she knew it was him. The thought made her legs tremble, as her hands violently shook trying to get the keys out of the car door. She thought more and more about buying a gun.

  Nervously looking up and down her street, it was quiet as always, no strange cars, nothing out of place or new, yet she felt uneasy, very uneasy. Walking timidly toward her apartment building, taking one more look around, trying to calm herself, she turned and went inside the building.

  Once inside her apartment, making sure all the locks on the door were secure, she then checked all the rooms. Checking all the locks on the windows, her back door and finally the door to the balcony, she started to breathe more easily. Nothing was out of place.

  Everything was secure. She told herself she was being paranoid. Shake it off, she mentally told herself; you are safe. Then out loud she said, “You’re safe,” just so she could hear it, and maybe believe it. She started toward the bathroom, though she did not feel safe at all; she was still trembling like the frightened child she once was.

  Switching on the lights, eyes darting around the bathroom as if she expected her father to jump out from thin air, she told herself that she was not a scared little girl anymore.

  Squaring her shoulders, taking a deep breath to calm herself, slowly walking toward the tub, she snatched back the shower curtains. Nothing. She stared at the empty tub for a few seconds, fighting down her fears as her mind tried to replay the dark memories from the past.

  Finally, allowing her trembling fingers to touch the shower knobs, she turned them both to full blast, so that the water would be good and hot. She then checked her messages; there was one from Nick—he was coming over.

  Lorna knew she had to tell Nick about her other job. She was not looking forward to that; she could lose him. She loved Nick so very much; she really did. But Sable was right, she thought, while getting undressed; Nick had a right to know, and she would tell him tonight. She shivered at the thought.

  Stepping into the shower, she allowed herself to get lost in the intense steam, forgetting everything for a while…Nick…the notes…her job. Pressing her hands against the shower walls, closing her eyes, she turned her face up toward the rushing sprays of water. How? She thought in anguish.

  How was she ever going to forget Amber and Ray? They were dead! Her mind screamed, murdered! Squeezing her eyes even tighter, murdered by Rorlo, her mind whispered.

  Feeling a strong sense of hopelessness, who am I going to tell, she thought, as silent tears, mixed with water, beat angrily against her tender face.

  It was then that Harry Carter came out of the back of the closet and into the bathroom. He had picked the lock on Lorna’s apartment and waited for her to come home.

  Harry promised himself, as he sat in the closet smiling, waiting patiently for her, that they would have a wonderful homecoming.

  He wondered for years where she had gone off to, and was stunned when he saw her in all her splendor; splendor for the world to see, in Mons Pubis. He was stunned. Angry. She looked good, he thought, lust gripping him like a vise, as he leisurely flipped through all the pages that featured her.

  He remembered their many nights together. He missed her. Harry had stared at her pictures for the longest of time, and had to relieve himself the best way he knew how. She excited him so much. He vehemently vowed he would find her. It took some time…but he did.

  He had told Jean he had to go out of town on business for a couple of days; she never questioned where, she never did. She was such a good wife. That’s what he liked about Jean; she never questioned him. She even helped him pack his suitcase. Kissing her on the cheek at their front door, she had told him to have a good trip, waving him goodbye. Yep, Jean was a good wife, he thought.

  As Lorna showered, Harry sat in a chair near the door. He had waited for hours, five, he thought. He was not sure. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together again, and for that, he smiled…he would wait until she finished her shower. She would smell so clean, fresh…he liked that.

  He missed the scent of her. Just the thought of what they would do made Harry’s pants bulge. His manhood was ready for her, and he licked his lips in anticipation as his greedy eyes focused on the shower curtain. And that is what Lorna saw as she started to step out of the shower…Harry… licking his lips. Her feet had not yet touched the floor.

  Nick was a few blocks from Lorna’s house. He was furious. He was having a cup of coffee with a co-worker named Jay. They were laughing and joking, and then Jay said, “Hey Nick, I have to ask you this, man. I don’t mean any disrespect, but how can you stand having your lady…” he seemed to be trying to find the right words.

  “How can I stand to have my lady what?” Nick asked wondering what he was talking about. His brows frowned quizzingly.

  Jay realized Nick had no idea what Lorna was doing. So instead of explaining, he showed Nick the magazine. Nick was dumbfounded. His hands visibly shook as he held the magazine in disbelief.

  His mouth gaped open. He could not believe it; he just could not believe. There was Lorna…his Lorna. Naked, not a stitch on. Legs spread open. In red stilettos, fiery-red lipstick and nothing else. The centerfold for Mons Pubis. The caption read, “The most desirable woman of the year.” Blinded with rage, his fingers curled around the magazine with a death grip.

  Leaving Jay stunned, to think whatever in the heck he wanted, Nick got into his car, driving with furious recklessness to Lorna’s apartment. How could Lorna have lied to him all this time? She never said anything. She told him she modeled, but this…Nick picked up the magazine as he drove and glared at it…this was not modeling.

  This was something altogether different. And if she lied about this, what else was she lying about? Nick’s body trembled with cold fury as he switched gears, not seeing the angry glare of an old woman as he scarcely missed running over her cat.

  He could not wait to get to Lorna’s house. He was driving way too fast through the quiet neighborhood and carelessly reckless. “She better be there…she wasn’t working,” he mumbled menacingly.

  Nick’s thoughts were deadly and dark for he had been through this before. Not again, he thought, not again. His ex-wife had lied, cheated and left him penniless. He had a nervous breakdown and spent several weeks in a mental institution for trying to commit suicide.

  Everyone tried to tell him about her, but he would not listen. Because he loved her more than his parents, whom he turned his back on, and more than his best friend, whom he boxed in the mouth for bad mouthing her.

  He even loved her more than his sister, whom he called a liar and slapped viciously across her face, all because of his ex-wife. Yes, his ex-wife had done a job on him. She took all his money, stepped on his pride and dignity…and left. Before any woman would do that to him again…he would kill her.

  When Nick pulled up to Lorna’s apartment building, he was shaking with newfound fury. Reaching into his glove compartment, he to
ok out his gun. When he got to the door, he heard a man’s voice.

  The man was telling Lorna about how he remembered their times together… how he came looking for her, found her and how much he was glad to see her.

  He could not make out what Lorna was saying, but he heard the man laugh and heard what sounded like a slap, then a scream.

  Harry had allowed Lorna to leave the bathroom; he surmised that the bathroom floor was not big enough for what he wanted to do. So when she said nothing after stepping from the shower, he motioned for her to follow him out.

  Lorna grabbed her bathrobe and was about to run to the front door, when Harry grabbed her by her hair and threw her to the floor.

  He wanted Lorna so much, he decided that the living room floor would be a good place to start their reunion. Lorna fought Harry as much as she could, and he liked it. He viciously slapped her several times, the violence intensifying his need. He had her pinned to the floor, while Nick listened at the door trying to understand what he was hearing.

  Lorna, naked, battered, and bruised was fighting with all her might. She was crying, hurting, and physically and mentally drained from exhaustion. She knew if she stopped fighting it would never end, and she would die before she let him hurt her again. She was not a child anymore. She could fight back. She would, even if he killed her.

  Harry liked the battle so much, he thought about taking her right away. Lust mixed with violence, had sick pleasure oozing through his body, like hot syrup.

  The combination made him deliriously euphoric, as he continued to slap her over and over again. Enjoying the sounds of her cries and pleas, he almost shouted out with joy. It had been worth the wait.

  When he couldn’t stand it any longer, and thought that he would burst if he didn’t take her, he tried to open the closure of his pants to enter her. Then, the door came crashing down.

  Nick, still furious about the magazine photos, was shocked at the sight of Lorna naked, battered and damn near beaten to a bloody pulp. His astonished eyes riveted on the man lying atop of Lorna, whose fist was frozen in midair at hearing the front door crashing in. A sickness twisted in his stomach, the man was Lorna’s father.

  Time—a limited period during which an action, process, or condition exists or takes place—seemed to have stopped in the tiny living room. Harry, fist frozen in midair in preparation to hit Lorna again, glared angrily at Nick.

  Nick, standing immobile on shattered pieces of wood, reeling from the sight before him, stared fiercely at Harry. And Lorna’s bruised blacken arms, motionless like a statue, curled in the air to fight off the next attack, moaned unintelligently through lips so swollen, they could not be seen for the amount of blood covering them.

  As if a switch was flipped, instantly Nick sprinted toward Harry. Forcibly grabbing Harry by the arm, he pulled him off Lorna and they began to fight violently.

  Somehow during the fight, Nick’s gun fell…Lorna just stared at it.

  As Nick and Harry fought, breaking the lamp…turning over furniture, Lorna sat with her knees drawn to her chest, rocking back and forth, in a dream state…frozen…in the past…back in the nightmare.

  Lorna was age five again…crying for Daddy to stop. She was age seven, fighting back and being slapped viciously. She was age eleven, telling herself that he was not doing this to me…but to her, Sherrie…her friend who came to protect her. Staring blankly from across the room, she remembered the many nights. The days. The years. Lorna remembered.

  Harry shoved Nick into Lorna’s china cabinet, and Nick noticed Lorna with the gun. Harry swung around to look at Lorna and smiled. “You don’t want to kill your papa, now do you, girlie?”

  He should not have called her girlie. Lorna fired. There was only the clicking sound of an empty gun, as Lorna kept pulling on the trigger, pointing the gun at Harry’s fallen body.

  Nick slowly approached Lorna and took the gun. He tried to hug her, but she shied away from him. Sitting in a corner, pulling her knees to her chest, she started rocking herself back and forth, staring blankly at Harry, her father. She was in another place. A safer place. Sherrie had come to save her again, the childlike voice in her head said.

  Visually checking Harry, and then kicking at his head, Nick knew that he was dead. The bastard, he thought. Looking at Lorna again, he slowly picked up the phone and dialed 911.

  “911 operator, is this an emergency?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the nature of the emergency, sir?”

  “I need the police. My name is Nick Butler. I’d like to report…” Taking in the scene around him, Nick was not sure what this was, but he was sure that Lorna would not pay for it.

  “Sir?” Hearing the calm authoritative voice of the operator, Nick took a deep breath.

  “I’d like to report a breakin,” he said with certainty. And gave the address.

  Chapter 18

  Touching nothing except the gun that he had taken from Lorna’s limp fingers, he placed it at the foot of Harry’s body. Squatting down to the floor at the front door, he waited anxiously for the police.

  Lorna was still rocking back and forth in silence. Her eyes were vacant like an empty house. He could see nothing inside.

  When the cops arrived, they saw Nick sitting on the floor near the door holding his head in his hands, Lorna crouched in the corner rocking back and forth, and a body full of bullet holes in the center of the room with a gun near its feet. The room itself looked as if a major battle had just been fought.

  When a police officer tried to approach Lorna, to ask her if she was okay, she got hysterical. Arms frantically waving, fighting off the attacker which she alone could see. “No Daddy please!…not tonight…not tonight…,” then hugging her knees to her chest, rocking herself slowly. “Not tonight,” she said repeatedly in a small childlike voice, full with hopelessness.

  One of the male officers, who was taking notes of the crime scene, didn’t notice the tears streaming down his cheeks, as the pressure from his tightened fingers caused the lead of his pencil to break while writing. Mumbling that he needed to get another one, he quickly left the apartment to compose himself.

  They had to call a female officer; Lorna would not let any of the males touch her, not even Nick. Once quieted, she was quickly transported to the hospital for treatment.

  Several of the officers at the scene commented that if Harry was not dead, they would have gladly hunted him down and put him out of his misery. Some of them had daughters. Badge be damned, they said, when something like this happens to anyone, especially a child.

  Lt. Alex Brown, understanding his officers’ anger, said nothing. He knew they were all good men, and would honor their positions, so he let them spew off some steam while securing the apartment; it was better than one of them taking their frustrations out on the innocent, or themselves.

  After receiving confirmation that the lock was picked before the door was broken down, Lt. Brown believed Nick’s account of the events and knew Lorna had acted in self-defense. The living room mirrored a battlefield, while Lorna’s appearance and behavior, before she was taken to the hospital, was that of a beaten-down soldier now clothed in the mind of a traumatized child.

  Lt. Brown, glancing around the living room, had seen some things in this job. Horrible things. But what would make a man hunt down his own daughter just to violate her and damn near kill her? Shaking his head in amazement, taking in the scene before him, he knew that no explanation could justify this obscenity.

  When he got back to the station, it was not long before he had his answer. After running a check on Harry Carter, the reports showed that Harry Carter not only had a prison record, but also was a known child molester. The man had been in and out of prison so many times; he was considered a career criminal.

  Shaking his head in amazement, he wondered if Lorna’s mother knew, and if so, why didn’t she protect her daughter?

  When Nick finally arrived at the hospital, they had Lorna heavily sedated. He was
extremely pleased to learn that she was not violated. Not knowing whom to call about Lorna, he called Sable telling her as briefly as he could over the phone what had happened. She was on her way.

  Sitting at Lorna’s bedside, he could not believe what almost happened to the woman he loved. Holding her limp hand firmly in his, he still wanted an explanation for the magazine; he could not let that go…he wished that he could.

  Sable came rushing into the hospital and was immediately taken to Lorna’s room. She cried out in horror when she saw Lorna, noting the various black bruises along her once-flawless face, now swollen almost beyond recognition. Her hands flew to her mouth to still her cries, as Nick stoically told her what had happened, in a voice void of all emotions.

  Staring wide-eyed at Nick for some sort of clue to his unemotional behavior, she sat down at Lorna’s bedside and gently held her limp hand, noting the cuts and bruises, and one finger wrapped in bandages, broken.

  She could no longer hold back her tears, and cried openly, holding Lorna’s hand against her cheek. Nick stood quietly as a statue, saying nothing.

  “Nick, I have something to tell you,” her voice cracking from the pain racing through her body like rushing wind. Only small parts of Lorna’s face could be seen because of the bandages. Her father tried to kill her, Sable thought, as fresh tears covered her eyes with a blinding blur.

  “I know already.” Nick said, not able to keep the hurt out of his voice. “She’s a porn star,” he spat, as if the words he had just spoken were poison in his mouth.

  Hearing the anger, hurt and resentment in his voice, Sable slowly turned her head toward him, keeping a gentle grip on Lorna’s hand. Looking at Nick, as if he’d just lost his mind, trying very hard not to take her anger out on him. Sable knew he didn’t know everything.

  “Nick,” saying his name as patiently as she could, “she wanted to tell you…but was afraid.”

  Torn, because he felt sympathy for what Lorna has just been though. But what about me, he selfishly thought in frustration. Nick was angry and hurting.