by T. K. Leigh
She nodded shyly, following him toward the seating area.
“How are you doing today, Lori?”
She shifted nervously in her chair. “I guess as good as I can be, Dr. Bowen.”
“You seem on edge,” he observed, his voice soothing. “Has something happened that you want to talk about?”
She fidgeted with her hands, trying to avoid eye contact. “No. Not really.”
“I’m here to help you with whatever you’re going through in life that is causing you anxiety, or apprehension…” He paused for a moment, grabbing her attention. She raised her head and their eyes met. “Or fear.”
Swiftly hiding her gaze from his, she surveyed the office, trying to find anything that appeared out of order. It was a habit. Everything had to be in its place. If it wasn’t, he could have been there. He could have found her.
“Lori, nothing you say will leave this room,” he assured her, wishing that after three years, she would open up to him about what she had endured at the hands of an unnamed monster that was still roaming the streets and subjecting women to the same brutality the frightened girl sitting in front of him had withstood.
She sat there, not saying a word for several moments, and stared out the windows of the office in downtown Jacksonville. “Another girl got out,” she said finally, breaking the growing silence in the room.
Cam’s eyes went wide. “How do you know? I didn’t think you…”
“I don’t talk to anyone,” she interrupted. “But there’s an e-mail address we are all given before we’re put on the bus to someplace far away. I don’t know who it belongs to, but she apparently forwards e-mails on our behalf to the woman who helped us, and vice-versa.”
She looked at Cam and saw the worry in his expression. “It’s nothing to be concerned about,” she said quickly. “I always drive two hours in one direction or another to a public library and use their computers so that no one can trace it back to where I live. No one has ever been found after they got out…except for one girl, apparently. But that’s just a rumor that he always told us to scare us, I think.”
“How does it make you feel knowing that someone else was able to get out?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Happy, I guess. But, at the same time, I know that the girl will just be replaced with someone else. That’s how it worked. He liked us living in fear of him hurting us, or worse. We were disposable. So stay in line, serve your purpose, and you can live.”
She turned her attention to the large windows overlooking the downtown area, her voice void of all emotion. “He reconditioned our entire way of thinking so that, after a few months, we were grateful for what he did for us.” Looking at her fingers in her lap, her entire body began to shake as she recalled exactly what she had been through. A lone tear fell down her cheek.
“Then the truth was exposed and there was no way out. No matter who you turned to, hoping they would help you and arrest him, you found out they were getting paid to look the other way. So you stopped trying because the ramifications of him finding out that you were the one to turn him in were worse. We all bended to his will, and everyone else’s, too. We actually thanked him. Isn’t that pathetic? God, we were all so pathetic.”
“Lori, you were not pathetic. You are not pathetic. He is. You have no reason to feel that way about something you couldn’t control. You did what you had to in order to survive. And you survived for nearly eight years. Suffering through that has only made you a stronger person. You must realize that.”
She took a deep breath and continued scanning the office, taking inventory of where everything should be. On the lamp table adjacent to the couch, photo of Dr. Bowen and his sisters when he was a teenager…check. Hanging on the wall over his desk, bachelor’s certificate from University of South Carolina, framed with dark blue matting…check. Med. school diploma from UCLA…check. Nothing out of place yet.
She returned her attention to her doctor, confident that she could continue to share her story with him and not suffer any repercussions. “I guess I’m still having trouble with the guilt of it all. I got out, but he had someone else take my place and now she’s trapped. She’s the one who’s now living in fear for her life and putting on a smile for any wealthy man passing through town.”
“Why’s that? What do you mean by that, Lori?” She had never mentioned anything like that before. He needed to delve deeper.
“It’s embarrassing, Dr. Bowen,” she said, her face turning flush.
“I understand that it can be difficult to share your experiences, but talking about these things will help you. The reason you relocated with your mother was to get on a successful course of treatment here with me. I’ve helped many other women who have been the victim of human trafficking. Sharing your past will help you realize that you’re stronger than you think you are. You survived. You got out. You did what you had to do to make it out of there. Every day will be different. Some days you’ll feel guilt. Some days fear may be your strongest emotion. But what you can’t do is try to bury your past deep inside and not talk about it. It’s part of you, and no matter how horrible it was, it’s made you into the person you are now. It made you into an intelligent, caring, compassionate, strong woman who is simply going through the process of learning to trust again.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, it hit him like a ton of bricks. It was almost like he could say the same things to Jolene, but here he was saying them to his patient that had suffered and endured more horrific things than any of his other patients. The room was eerily silent as he considered whether it could be true. He didn’t want Jolene to be that damaged. He hoped that he was wrong, that she simply escaped an abusive boyfriend or husband.
Lori coughed and Cam returned his attention to the woman sitting in front of him, her brow furrowed.
“Let’s explore this deeper, Lori. I know it’s difficult, but I need to know as much as you feel comfortable telling me about what life was like for you all those years. No matter how insignificant you may think the details are, it could be the source of some of your insecurities. Every sound, smell, and person that you came into contact with could be a trigger. Do you understand that?”
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears at the prospect of finally sharing some of her darkest demons. He always pressed her, but she always pushed back, not wanting to relive her memories. It had been years and she had only given up abstract details. But something about the compassionate way he handed her the tissue box and gave her a sympathetic look made her want to finally begin the healing process.
“Okay. I can do that. I’m ready, Dr. Bowen. I’m ready to talk about what happened.”
Cam gave her a reassuring smile. “Now, let’s start at the beginning,” he said. “How did this man approach you?”
“My dad was never in the picture so it was just me and my mom. She worked a lot to try to make ends meet, so when I was working my mall job one day and a man with a designer suit approached me, saying I’d be perfect for a client of his who was looking for a new face, I thought I hit the jackpot. I thought that I could finally help out at home and that my mom could quit one of her jobs. She knew it was probably a hoax, but I didn’t believe her. We got into a huge argument and I remember calling him up, telling him that my mom didn’t want me to go. He said that he just worked out a contract with a huge modeling agency and I’d be making seven figures within a years’ time, but I had to leave with him immediately to start training. The following day, I waited until my mom left for work, then I met him at the airport where he had a private jet waiting for us.” She wiped her eyes at the memory of how stupid she felt for the lapse of judgment she showed when she was just a few weeks out of high school, wondering why she fell for it.
“How about the other girls?”
“For the most part, all of our stories were the same. Broken homes. Parents who worked a lot and were barely ever around. But how would he even know that? It’s like he researched each and every o
ne of us so he would know that we were likely to leave home and agree to whatever he wanted. It didn’t take us long to realize that there was no modeling job. I should have known…”
“Lori, you can’t think like that.” Cam’s voice was intense and nurturing at the same time. “You were barely eighteen when you were persuaded to leave your family. You need to learn to place the blame of what happened on someone else, not on you. I have a feeling that no matter what happened, this individual, whomever it is, would have found a way to lure you in.”
She nodded, considering her therapist’s words. She hated thinking that she held all the blame for what she endured year after year at the hands of a man who she thought held so much promise for her future.
“Now, let’s go back to what you were talking about. How he lured you with the promise of a modeling contract. Is that how he lured all of you there?”
“As far as I know, yes. Well, there was one girl who appeared out of nowhere on her eighteenth birthday. Rumors circulated that she had been living under his guardianship for a few years, but I never knew if that was true or not. To us, she was another virgin to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. And the virgins went for a lot of money. The men that bid on them were rather disturbing, as well.”
“What do you mean by that? What kind of men were they?”
“I still remember the looks that they gave these girls, not caring that their entire bodies were shaking from fear, crying and begging to be set free. They sat there in their designer suits, staring at them, almost as if they were planning exactly what they had in store for the poor girls. The ones who were handsome with nice eyes and a dazzling smile… Those were the ones that you always had to watch out for. They liked the quiet girls, the ones who still had fear on their faces. And that’s why they liked the virgins. Because those were the girls that were more likely to put up a fight. That’s what they wanted. What they needed. What they craved.”
“Now, once you were there, how long until you found out what was really going on?”
“Not long. A few months. He would book us ‘modeling interviews’, which we later found out were just discussions with some of his clients who wanted to size us up and decide whether we were worth their time…or money. He had us work as cocktail waitresses to help offset the costs of all the effort he was putting into our ‘career’, and to help pay for the room and board he was giving us.”
“How did you find out?”
Lori took a deep breath, looking for the inner strength to relive the moment that changed her life. “I’ll never forget the day he told me that I was getting moved to the poker room. Gambling wasn’t legal where we were, but he ran a small little poker game for some of his wealthier clients. Never did I think…” She trailed off and her chin trembled.
“If this is too much, we can stop here for the day.” He didn’t want to push her too much, needing her to be forthcoming with him again in the future. He had already learned more in the last half-hour than he did in the previous three years that she had been his patient.
Lori breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Dr. Bowen,” she said, getting up to leave, the session exhausting her. She opened the door to his office before turning to face him. “I haven’t thought about that poor girl in a while. I’ll never forget the spectacle when her virginity was auctioned off. She thought it was a party for her eighteenth birthday.” She shivered at the memory. “I just hope that it was Jolene who got out.”
She spun on her heels and walked into the reception area, leaving Cam standing there, his mouth wide open and his heart racing. It all had to be a coincidence.
He rushed to his desk, grabbing his laptop bag before darting out of his office toward the bank of elevators. His brain was going a mile a minute, thinking about Lori’s story, the similarities between her behavior and Jolene’s, and that name.
“Have a good evening, Dr. Bowen!” the receptionist said as Cam frantically pressed the call button, wishing he could close his eyes and be whisked to the beach house. He sped all the way back to the island, swearing when vacationers in front of him drove too slowly on the one-lane road leading to the shore. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he pulled his Lexus in front of the beach house, running up the stairs to the deck, pausing before knocking.
“What am I doing?” he asked himself. He couldn’t possibly say anything to her about the conversation he just had with his patient. That would be a gross misuse of his relationship, but he wanted to know if the Jolene that Lori spoke about was her. It answered some questions, or maybe he just wanted it to answer some questions.
His brief moment of temporary insanity passing, he began to retreat from the front door when he heard the faint sound of someone crying inside the house.
Peeking through the glass pane and into the living room, he saw Jolene’s slender form shaking on the couch, her head buried in her hands as the familiar sound of Radiohead echoed through the house and out onto the deck.
He cautiously began to step away from the window, torn about whether to go in and comfort her or to simply leave and forget that he had heard her sobs. The song faded and Cam expected to hear it change, but it didn’t. The opening lines of the same depressing song sounded once more and he wondered what was going through Jolene’s mind to want to torture herself. Out of nowhere, a loud cry startled him and his eyes grew wide, hoping that he hadn’t been discovered.
“You fucking asshole!” he heard her scream over the sound of a piece of furniture crashing to the ground. “You ruined my life!”
He stood perfectly still, the pain in her voice overwhelming him with guilt for spying on her.
“I had a good life,” he heard her say quietly. “I had a mother who loved me, and you said you were going to take care of me! And what did you do? The exact opposite! You ruined me! I’m completely and forever fucked up because of what you put me through. I can’t even have a normal conversation with a man I like because of you! I can’t even take a leap of faith and trust him because of you! I’ll never be able to feel his hands on my skin because of you! And I’ll never be able to choose him because…of…you!”
His heart racing, he discreetly peered in through the window one last time to see Jolene collapsed on the floor, the lamp that used to sit on the side table shattered all around her, a piece of glass held tight in her hand.
She brought it in front of her face, surveying the sharp edges. “I won’t do it,” she said quietly. “I’m so fucking worn out and sick of this life that you introduced me to. But if I do it, you’ll win. And you can’t win.” A tear fell down her cheek and into her ear. Instead of brushing them away and hiding them, she let them fall. “I won’t let you win anymore. I need to move on…for me, and for everyone else you did this to. You can’t control me anymore. You won’t control me anymore. I’m going to finally be who I want to be. Who I am. The girl you made me into is dead.” She shot up, still holding the piece of sharp glass in her hands.
Cam remained nervous about what she would do, fearful that she would have another outburst the moment he left. His unsettled thoughts vanished when he noticed a beautiful smile cross her face. Her appearance was the perfect juxtaposition between sad and happy, between angry and joyful, between hateful and hopeful. In one simple smile, he saw the multiple layers that made up Jolene.
“And, goddammit, I’m going to fall in love if it kills me. Because I have a feeling there’s someone in my life that I could love, and who could love me in return. And that…” she said, looking at the ceiling fan, watching it sway back and forth under the velocity of the spinning blades. “That is the reason I will not give you the satisfaction of doing what you think I will. I’m stronger than you think I am. I’m done choosing fear. I choose love.”
Cam knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but Jolene’s soft voice talking about falling in love sent his heart soaring. He was certain that she was talking about him. That meant she had been thinking about him, and he made it his missi
on to help her learn to trust again, even if it took months of excruciating patience.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOT A DATE
“GOOD THING YOU’RE HERE, Tomorrow. We got busy early,” Elsie commented on Saturday night when she saw Jolene walk into the staff room of Slider’s.
“I see that. That’ll be good for tips then.” She dropped off her bag and left to get behind the bar. Every minute was more money in her pocket, and she wanted a nice little stash built up in case she had to run again; although every time she thought about having to disappear, all she could see was a pair of sad silver eyes. She didn’t want to leave those eyes or the body attached to them, even though she knew that she should keep her distance from him.
The hours flew by as she served customer after customer, barely having time to take a breath. She had never seen a bar so busy. The room was packed with people dancing to the music pumped throughout the entire restaurant by a DJ.
“Man, who do you have to flirt with to get a cold beer around here?!” she heard a voice call out a little after midnight as she was grabbing a drink of water between helping thirsty customers.
Jolene spun around, smiling when she saw Cam standing there in a white linen button-down shirt, a sexy smirk drawn on his face. His arms were crossed and she could see his muscles stretching the fabric of his shirt a bit. She was completely speechless as she took in his body. Each time she saw him, she was becoming more and more attracted to him.
She immediately grew self-conscious about her own appearance. After slinging drinks for the past four hours, she was confident her face was flushed and that she smelled like a combination of stale beer and fruity mixers. “What can I get you, surfer boy?” she asked sarcastically, attempting to get her hair under control.
“I thought I got promoted to surfer man?”