The Walls

by Hollie Overton

  No. Kristy had to keep Lance’s secret for now. She closed her eyes, thinking about Clifton and his offer. “There are people in here who can help.” There are people in here who can help. Maybe he’d been right after all. Maybe she needed a monster to fight a monster.

  Kristy drifted in and out of consciousness, waking up when she heard the EMT’s gentle voice. Only a few years older than Ryan, his face was covered with acne scars, his soft-spoken voice kind and reassuring.

  “Ma’am, help is here. You’re going to be okay. We’ll be transporting you to the hospital, but is there anyone you want us to call?”

  Kristy didn’t miss a beat.

  “My husband. Please call my husband.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lance couldn’t have scripted Kristy’s trip to the ER any better. After the medics arrived, lights flashing, the young EMT patted Kristy on the shoulder.

  Kristy bit back a moan as the EMTs gently lifted her out of the wrecked truck and eased her onto a stretcher, securing her neck on a backboard.

  “I know this isn’t the most comfortable, ma’am, but we want to make sure you don’t have any spinal injuries,” the medic said.

  “You’re a very lucky lady.”

  She might have laughed if she weren’t in such agony.

  When Kristy arrived at the Conroe Emergency Room, she recognized the ER physician. Dr. Haunschild had treated Pops during his last COPD episode. Thirty-five with bright green eyes, she greeted Kristy, her manner calm and reassuring despite the frenzy of the packed hospital.

  “Looks like you got yourself into a bit of trouble,” she said gently.

  “Looks that way,” Kristy managed to whisper.

  “Well, don’t worry, Mrs. Tucker,” she said. Kristy corrected her.

  “It’s Dobson. I got married,” Kristy said. She didn’t even know why she said this, hated that Lance had her so trained, it was her first thought to correct the doctor.

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Dobson. Your husband should be here soon. Just rest. We’re gonna get you all fixed up.”

  Dr. Haunschild ordered a CT scan and morphine to help with the pain. Kristy prayed that someone might recognize that her wounds weren’t consistent with a car accident. A punch to the face had to look different from injuries inflicted by an exploding airbag, didn’t it? And yet no one said a word or seemed to think anything was unusual. They had no reason to doubt Kristy. Why would they?

  One of the nurses gently took Kristy’s arm and began to hook up an IV, the needle slowly piercing her skin, a trickle of blood forming. Kristy thought about grabbing the woman’s arm and whispering the truth—My husband did this. Please help me. But all she could hear was Lance’s threat ringing in her ears. What if Ryan disappeared? What if Pops stopped breathing? He hadn’t actually said the words I’m going to kill your father and son, but it was close enough to ensure Kristy’s complete and total obedience.

  The morphine kicked in, easing the searing pain in Kristy’s swollen face and abdomen. Her terror subsided ever so slightly as the cloudy haze of the drug coursed through her body.

  “We’re going to keep you for a few days, make sure you don’t have a concussion or any internal injuries. We’ll get you moved to a room shortly,” Dr. Haunschild said.

  “Thank you,” Kristy replied. The doctor gently patted her arm and then hurried out. The nursing staff moved in and out, working to stabilize Kristy’s condition. She fought a losing battle to stay awake.

  “Where’s my wife? I need to see my wife.” Lance’s booming voice startled her awake, and Kristy’s eyes snapped open. Ryan rushed in first, his eyes red as if he’d been crying.

  Motherfucker, Kristy thought, hating Lance even more. Lance trailed behind Ryan. He reached Kristy’s bedside and leaned down to tenderly kiss her forehead as he brushed her hair from her eyes.

  “You had us so worried,” Lance said.

  Kristy smiled weakly but directed her response to Ryan.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said.

  Ryan wasn’t buying it.

  “Mom, you look like shit,” he said, sniffling.

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, patting the bed. Ryan gently settled down next to her, his entire body trembling. She took his hands in hers.

  “Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here,” Kristy said, hugging Ryan.

  “You drive too fast. I’ve always said that. You’ve got to be more careful,” Ryan said in frustration. He’d picked up that trait from Lance, always blaming others for their own misfortunes. Lance interjected.

  “It’s terrible that they don’t have proper signage or more lights. I’m gonna have to file a complaint with the city,” he said. He was so convincing; Kristy could almost believe that she’d simply driven off the road. But she endured every second of his charade, trying in spite of her pain to analyze her options. She could tell Ryan right now what Lance had said to her. Ryan, you have to stop him. And make sure Pops is okay. You have to, she’d say, screaming at the staff to call 911. The dirty secret would be out in the open in front of hospital staff.

  But even if they believed her, there were so many other things she’d have to tell them. Kristy wasn’t even sure where to begin. The first time Lance hit her? The first time he raped her? She wanted to speak but the words weren’t coming. Was it the morphine? The injuries? Maybe she did have a concussion. She just needed to breathe and organize her thoughts.

  “Sorry, y’all, but we’ll be moving Mrs. Dobson to her room and she really needs her rest,” the nurse said, adjusting Kristy’s IV before bustling out.

  Ryan hugged Kristy again. Searing pain coursed through Kristy’s body, but she didn’t care. She gritted her teeth, wanting to hold on to Ryan forever.

  “Don’t go, Ry. Please,” she begged. She could barely think, but she had to tell him.

  Lance cleared his throat. “Ryan, why don’t you wait outside and let your mama and I have a minute.”

  Ryan hesitated.

  “She’s in good hands, son. Go on,” Lance said.

  “I love you, Mom,” Ryan mumbled.

  She tried to form words but nothing came out. Ryan wiped at his eyes and shuffled out of the room, leaving Lance and Kristy alone.

  He moved over to Kristy’s bedside and caressed her battered face. Bruises had formed on his hands but no one seemed to notice. It wouldn’t matter anyway. He taught martial arts. Of course he had bruises.

  “Darlin’, we’re gonna be right as rain from here on out. I love you more than you can even imagine. That’s what you need to remember. And you love me too, isn’t that right?”

  Kristy nodded, forcing herself to whisper, “Yes, Lance, I love you.” He sat there, sizing her up, and then, as if deciding she could be trusted, he gave her one last tender kiss and slipped away. She held her breath, waiting to see if he might return. When he didn’t, Kristy finally allowed herself to drift away. When she woke hours later, she was all alone in a new cold, sterile hospital room. She tried to think about what happened next, tried to anticipate her next move, but everything seemed so unclear. The phone rang and Kristy’s entire body tensed. She answered, bracing herself for more threats or intimidation from Lance.

  “Hello?” Kristy said sleepily.

  “Kristy … Kristy girl, is that you?”

  She heard Pops’s voice, shaky and uneasy.

  “It’s me, Pops.”

  “You gave me such a scare. But you’re okay? My baby girl is all right?” he asked.

  He was crying. Pops was crying. The last time she saw Pops cry was at her mother’s funeral, and now she was the cause. She wanted to tell him the truth. No, Pops, I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay for a long time. But Pops was no longer the fearless man who came running into her bedroom, chasing away imaginary monsters with his Louisville Slugger. Now he was a sick old man who got winded walking to the bathroom. This wasn’t Pops’s fight. Kristy was on her own.

  “It’s just a few bumps and bruises. I’ll be home
soon,” Kristy said.

  “Good. I’m so glad, Kristy girl. Lance said it wasn’t that bad. I wanted to come see you but I’m just really out of breath today. But I had to call. I needed to hear your voice, just to make sure for myself that you were fine. You’re fine, right?”

  She was so far from fine. Kristy knew if she stayed on the phone any longer, she would come undone.

  “I will be, Pops. But these damn medicines are making me pretty sleepy.”

  “Go on. Get some rest and I’ll see you soon.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he said, and she could hear him sobbing as he hung up the phone.

  Kristy hung up. She had so many things she had to do, plans she needed to make, but the drugs were simply too powerful, and mercilessly, she drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, Kristy jolted awake, the sun streaming in through the mini-blinds. Every part of her body ached, from her eyelids to her molars to the tips of her toes, but there was a part of Kristy that was grateful Lance had gone so far. All this time she kept expecting him to change, to revert back to the man she fell in love with. But she wasn’t sure that man ever existed. As far as Kristy was concerned, Lance had officially declared war.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kristy’s hospital stay gave her plenty of time to think. Whatever she did next, Kristy had to be smart. She had to stay one step ahead of Lance. No more careless trips to Janice’s house—she couldn’t be distracted, no matter how much she wanted to help Clifton. Kristy wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but she needed a plan, which meant she had to stay sharp. In the same way that Lance studied judo, Kristy had to study him. The most difficult part of all this was acting as if everything was normal. While Lance assumed the role of doting husband, Kristy played the part of devoted wife. She complimented the tulips he hand delivered and sang Lance’s praises to Dr. Haunschild, who agreed to release Kristy as long as she promised to rest.

  “She’s in good hands, Doc,” Lance assured her.

  While they waited for the discharge papers, Kristy motioned for him to join her on the bed. “What I said … about a divorce.”

  “Kristy.” Lance’s voice was harsh.

  “Let me finish. Please. I’ll do whatever it takes to make us work. You tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it,” Kristy said. Sometimes she wondered if she missed her calling as an actor. She could have won all the awards for today’s performance.

  Relief flooded Lance, a boyish smile illuminating his face. He leaned down to kiss her.

  “Let’s go, darlin’,” Lance said. “Pops and Ryan have pulled out the welcome wagon for your homecoming.”

  The nurse wheeled Kristy out of the hospital, Lance trailing behind, carrying the flowers and balloons that Carmen had sent.

  “This is it right here,” Lance said, gesturing for the nurse to stop in front of a gleaming cherry-red Ford SUV.

  “Do you like it?” Lance asked.

  Kristy stared back at him, confused.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Can’t exactly drive your old truck. And it was time for new wheels, don’t you think?”

  Kristy surveyed the glistening new car, the nurse patting her on the arm.

  “You’ve got yourself a keeper. Can’t remember the last time my husband bought me anything, much less a new car.”

  Kristy had dreamt of buying herself a brand-new car. She didn’t want this gift, didn’t want the reminder every time she got behind the wheel that Lance owned her.

  “He spoils me,” Kristy said to the nurse. She turned her attention to Lance. “It’s amazing,” Kristy said. “Thank you.” He gently lifted her from the chair and placed her in the passenger’s seat.

  “I’ll drive home today, but after that, this beauty is all yours, darlin’.”

  They arrived at home and Lance was right. Pops and Ryan had pulled out all the stops. The house was gleaming from top to bottom and they’d cooked up a feast—chicken noodle soup and roast beef sandwiches. For the next five days, Kristy’s every need was taken care of, until she felt like she was actually being suffocated. She didn’t have a single second to herself with everyone asking her if she was feeling okay. Lance forced her to take the pain pills the doctor had prescribed, keeping her drowsy and unfocused. By the end of the week, Kristy knew she had to get out of this house. Her body was aching but the pain she’d experience walking around the office had to be better than being stuck here under Lance’s microscope. But she had to broach the subject of returning to work carefully, or Lance might shut it down altogether. She waited until they were going to bed, Lance stretched out, reading some self-help book.

  “Hey, babe, I’m feeling like I’m ready to get back to normal. I’m thinking of going back to work but only if it’s okay with you.”

  Lance cocked his head, considering her question. “Darlin’, are you sure? If you need more time, take it. I want you to be well.”

  Kristy couldn’t quite wrap her head around how Lance compartmentalized the things he had done to her. How he was able to convince himself that Kristy’s injuries were accidental and not a result of his own making. Only one explanation—she had married a madman.

  “I’m ready to get back. But only if you’re okay with it,” Kristy said.

  “As long as you’re up for it,” Lance responded.

  Kristy couldn’t wait to escape.

  She woke up the following morning bright and early and spackled her face with makeup. It was kind of useless. No amount of concealer and powder could cover the massive swelling and various shades of black, blue, and yellow bruises, but Kristy did her best. The moment she started up her new SUV and drove out of the driveway, she heaved a huge sigh of relief.

  Going back to work on a Wednesday meant double the work, since she’d have to coordinate media day and catch up on all the e-mails and phone calls, but Kristy was grateful for the distraction. She arrived at the Walls prepared for Carmen’s doting, but it was Gus who surprised her, by showing actual concern for Kristy’s well-being.

  “Jesus Christ, Tucker, go home. You shouldn’t be here,” he said, eyeing her bruised face.

  “Gus, here’s the deal. This is my job. I’m not going home because I have work to do,” she said.

  Gus blinked in surprise. “Fine. Fine. Do whatever you want,” he said, and then stomped off to his office.

  “Haven’t seen you stand up to Gus before,” Carmen said.

  Kristy shrugged. “Maybe I should do it more often,” she replied. She had to put up with Lance’s bullshit. She sure as hell wasn’t dealing with Gus’s.

  She spent the morning going through her e-mails, requests from inmates asking for interviews, reporters wanting quotes for an upcoming story. She made the drive to Polunsky at noon, bracing herself for the onslaught of comments about her battered face.

  “Dear God, what happened to you?” they inevitably asked. Kristy’s ability to lie came in handy, and she smiled bravely, casually dismissing her brush with death. She was on her way to the media room when she bumped into Mac. He took one look at her battered face and whistled.

  “Holy shit, Tucker, when Lance texted me about the accident, he said it wasn’t that big of a deal. But he was being polite. You must have done a number on that tree.”

  “Damn thing had it coming,” Kristy joked.

  “Seriously, are you okay?”

  Kristy nodded, hating that Lance had hijacked Mac as well. He reached out for a hug. Kristy held up a hand.

  “Ribs,” she said as a warning, and he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. She wanted to sink into his embrace, allow him to comfort her, but it wasn’t fair. She’d already made her job, chosen the flashier model instead of safe and secure. Kristy pulled away first.

  “Stupid woman drivers,” Mac teased. “You’ve got to take care of yourself.”

  “I will. And I hate to hug and run but I’m running late. I’ll see you soon,” she said.

  “I’m gonna
hold you to it,” Mac called after her.

  Kristy arrived at the visitation room at the same time as Mem, a documentary filmmaker from New York. Twenty-something with a youthful appearance and art house sense of style, Mem was eager to meet Clifton but kept darting glances at Kristy’s swollen features. She braced herself for the young woman’s questions but Mem didn’t say a word. Maybe she thought that’s just how they did things in Texas: Murder and abuse go hand in hand.

  Two guards led Clifton in, the same routine every week. Through the pane of glass, they locked eyes, Clifton scanning Kristy’s face, cataloging her bruises. Distraught, he sank down into his seat, no choice but to begin his interview. Kristy moved away and waited. An hour later, she shook hands with Mem, who thanked her for her time.

  “I have to ask, did an inmate do that to you?”

  Kristy shook her head. “No. It was a car accident,” Kristy said.

  Mem sighed with relief. “God, I’m just glad to know it was an accident. I can’t imagine coming to work and being worried for my safety.”

  It was almost as terrible as being afraid for your safety in your own home, Kristy wanted to say. Instead she led Mem to the exit, fighting to keep the tears at bay. She said her good-byes and returned to Clifton, taking a seat across from him.

  “Hey, Clifton,” she said. “How are you?”

  “The more important question, Ms. Tucker, is how are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” she said truthfully.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kristy could see Bruce gazing up at the ceiling, bored out of his mind. She lowered her voice.

  “I came home late and he wasn’t happy,” Kristy said softly. “I was at Janice’s. I mean, I’ve been watching her,” Kristy said. God, it sounded so stupid.

  Clifton’s eyes widened. “I don’t … I’m not sure I understand. Why?”

  “I don’t know. To see … I wanted to know …”

  “If I was telling the truth?” he asked.

  Kristy looked away, embarrassed by her admission that she wasn’t sure of his innocence.