Manda was quiet for a long moment and then she sighed. “Okay. But when you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
Ready…
An hour later, Del left the house. There was no way she’d be ready to look at her high school friend and say I ran away because it wouldn’t stop until I did.
Climbing into her car, she jammed the key into the ignition but then instead of starting the car, she just sat there. One hand rested on the wheel, the other on the key. “I’m so tired of this,” she muttered. Her voice was thick with tears and for once, all Del wanted was to let those tears fall. She wanted to cry and she didn’t want to do it alone.
No, she wasn’t ready to tell people about it, but she was tired of letting it rule her life. Even the past few years when she thought she’d finally taken control, those two months twelve years ago colored everything she did, every major choice she made.
She spent months running when she had first left. When she left, she took as much jewelry as she could get her hands on and every last bit of cash that was in the house. It had been several thousand dollars’ worth. If she’d been careful, she would have done okay until she found a place to crash, a place that wouldn’t look too closely at her ID. Instead she’d used it to buy drugs, anything, everything that would make her forget. Alcohol and narcotics, she chased the pills with booze, uncaring that it could have killed her.
But none of the pills, none of the liquor could wipe away the memories. They were still there, chasing her into sleep, waiting for her when she woke, haunting her every moment. It was fifteen months after she left when she first started thinking about killing herself.
Her first attempt was a couple months after that, but she’d panicked. After downing a veritable pharmacy, she called 911 and ended up in the ER where they pumped her stomach and called social services. The doctors and nurses there hadn’t bought her claims that she was over eighteen. She ended up in the system while they tried to find her parents, but Del wouldn’t tell them her real name and surprise, surprise, Mommy Dearest hadn’t ever reported her missing.
Social services didn’t treat her all that bad. She ended up in a decent foster home with a nice lady with kind, tired eyes. Too kind. Moira Jensen knew what had happened to Del. Not specifically, but she’d recognized the signs, probably the same signs that Blake had recognized. She tried reaching out to Del, and failed. Del hadn’t wanted anybody reaching out to her. All she’d wanted was to age out of the system and get away. Very far away.
She might have spent her remaining time, all of five months, with Moira Jensen if a couple of high school jocks hadn’t singled her out for their Friday night jollies. They hadn’t raped her, but it had been a close call. Del hadn’t gone to the party for any reason other than to score some coke or get drunk.
What she’d gotten was Rohypnol and she would have been raped if the police hadn’t shown up to investigate some calls about a wild party and underage drinking. Although she didn’t remember much more than drinking rum and coke, the blackness that followed was almost as terrifying as the memories of what her step-father had done to her.
The shock of it had pushed her too close to those ugly, hated memories and she had run away again, ending up on the streets and the path that would eventually end nearly two years later at a rest stop on Interstate 75 in Ohio, where yet another kind woman would make another rescue attempt. Megan Thomas found Del in a pool of blood. After stopping the bleeding, she’d called 911 and the retired nurse had stayed by Del’s side until a social worker showed up to take her place at the emergency room.
That social worker was the one who would eventually pull Del out of hell. Joely Simmons saw the path that Del was following and the stubborn woman refused to let her go any farther. It was because of Joely, even more than Megan, that Del was alive. Alive, clean and sober.
She was the reason that Del had chosen to work with troubled kids—she wanted to help them the way Joely had helped her. Beyond that, Joely was the only person on the planet that knew about every dark, ugly thing in Del’s past. When cancer had taken Joely last year, Del had felt as though she’d been cut adrift. Oddly enough, though, when things got rough, she could hear that worn, friendly voice murmuring to her.
Just like now.
You’re tired of running, Del, because you’ve been running for twelve years. Until you face him, face her, face what they did to you and make them deal with you, you’ll keep on running.
“I have faced it.”
Then why are you still hiding it? Why are you pulling away from people who reach out? People who just want to help?
Her hands shook as she climbed out of the car and her legs wobbled as she headed back up the sidewalk. When she walked into the house, her gut was pitching so hard, she thought she was going to be sick. Those few bites of bagel sat in her belly like a stone. But instead of bolting for the bathroom like she wanted, she went into the kitchen and found Manda at the sink, washing dishes. Manda glanced up. “Forget where the town square was, sweetie?”
“William Sanders raped me.”
Glass shattered. The mug that Manda had been washing slipped out of her hands, bounced off the edge of the counter and hit the tile floor. Neither of them noticed. Manda turned towards Del, her eyes wide. “What?”
Instinct had Del wanting to backpedal, hard and fast. And she heard that voice, the ghostly voice of a dead friend murmuring to her. Too late to back off now. Del swallowed and looked at Manda again. “He raped me. It started two days after y’all left and he kept on doing it until that last night when I ran away.”
Manda started for her and Del lifted a hand, shook her head. She couldn’t take being touched right now. “Don’t. I need to finish this.” Her breath squeezed in and out of her lungs like some giant had wrapped a fist around her midsection. “You were gone. Blake was gone. I tried to tell Mama and she laughed, said I was lying. A dirty, nasty lie because I was bored and needed attention and nobody would believe otherwise.”
She blinked and saw Manda staring at her with a look of sheer horror on her face. Humiliated, Del turned away and covered her face. That was when she realized she was crying. She scrubbed the tears away.
When Manda touched her arm, Del froze. “My God, Dee. Why… How… Shit.” Manda moved closer and then she wrapped her arms on Del’s waist. Del wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. She felt so damn tense, so strung tight, moving might make her shatter into ten thousand pieces.
Slow, shallow breaths—that was the ticket. Del concentrated on each breath, thought about the process breathing in, breathing out, and gradually, the clammy fist wrapped around her chest eased up. The nausea eased and she awkwardly patted Manda’s back. “Give me a minute.” When Manda’s arms loosened, Del slipped away. Her legs wobbled beneath her as she made her way to the counter. There was a mug drying in the dish rack. Sticking it under the faucet, she filled it and drank the tepid water. Her throat was still dry but her belly pitched and roiled as the water hit.
I’m not going to get sick. I’m not going to get sick. I’m not—
“Sit down.” Manda’s hand closed over Del’s arm and the smaller woman more or less manhandled Del into a chair. Then she pressed her palm to the back of Del’s neck and forced her over until she was staring at the floor. “Stay there.”
The water was running again. It seemed far too loud. Little black dots danced in her vision. “You’re hyperventilating,” Manda said from close behind her. Del flinched as something cold and wet touched her neck. “Take some deeper breaths, sweetie. Slow it down.”
In a reedy voice, Del said, “I’m good. Let me up.” She sat up and stared into Manda’s eyes. Tears swam in her brown eyes and she looked like she was caught between hurt, fury and pity. Pity—that was the last thing she wanted.
“I don’t know if I want to wring your neck for not telling me or go and kill him.” Manda’s voice shook with fury and her hands kept opening and closing into fists.
“It’s not the easiest thing to talk
about,” Del said. Her hands were shaky, she realized absently. She stared at them. Her cuticles were cracked and her nails short. There had been a time when her hands could have done a Palmolive commercial, perfectly manicured, soft and smooth, her nails done some fru-fru shade of pink.
Del hadn’t had a manicure in so long she couldn’t remember how it felt. The ends of her hair caught her gaze and she reached up, caught one braid in her hand. The dark brown wasn’t ugly. It wasn’t pretty, either. It was just—ordinary. The entire point. She went out of her way to blend in, to look as plain as she could. For a long time, she’d worn clothes so baggy she could hide in them, but then she started the self-defense classes and somebody pointed out how easy it was to grab onto baggy clothes and turn them into a weapon to use against her.
Everything she did, everything she said, every choice she made, all of them were shaped by something that had happened twelve years ago. She hadn’t gone out on dates, she avoided relationships because she didn’t want to risk anybody getting close enough to see below the surface.
William Sanders had taken away her innocence and her youth—but she might as well give him the rest of her life if she kept going on like this. “I’m letting him win,” she said in a flat, emotionless voice. “God.”
Del blew out a harsh, frustrated breath and looked back up at Manda. “I know the behavior. I see it in others and I can recognize it. Why didn’t I see it this clearly in myself?”
Manda shook her head. “It doesn’t matter because you see it now.” She reached out and clasped Del’s hands in hers, rubbing them. “You going to fix it?”
Fix it. It sounds so easy. Del drove down the highway, operating on autopilot as she drove towards town.
How did she fix it? Almost made it sound like her carburetor had gone out. At least that she could take to a mechanic. Fixing herself was a lot more complicated. She was coping okay, Del supposed but she was a very long way from being okay and it made all the difference in the world. She was operating in a vacuum and all of a sudden, she was tired of just existing. Maybe it had been seeing Manda with the baby. Maybe it had to do with seeing her mother again for the first time in a decade and finally acknowledging what lay under that pretty, polished exterior. Or maybe it had to do with seeing Blake again.
Blake…
Her heart did a weird little dance in her chest as she thought about him. She hadn’t thought seeing him would hit her like this. Make her legs go all weak and wobbly and her belly twist with a queer ache—an emptiness. She remembered the sensations. That crooked grin of his had turned her insides to mush from the time she’d been old enough to notice and time had only added to his appeal.
She pulled into one of the parking spaces in front of the sheriff’s office and shut off the engine. But instead of climbing out, she just sat there, reminding herself to breathe and gripping the steering wheel so tight it wouldn’t have surprised her if the vinyl cracked. Her belly pitched and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to do this.
Telling Manda had been hard. Almost impossible. Telling Blake—even thinking about it made her feel like her skin had shrunk, leaving her feeling tight and itchy. All the while, shame did a slow, insidious spin inside her. Her heart beat with a force that made it hard to breathe and before she even realized it, she reached out to start the car. Can’t do this can’t do this can’t—
The car made a weird sputtering sound as the engine tried to turn over and oddly enough, that was enough to jar her out of the panicked mindset. “He’s controlled enough of your life,” Del whispered. Before she could change her mind, she jerked the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car. The sun shone down bright and hot on her shoulders but she was cold. Crossing her arms over her middle, she headed into the sheriff’s office.
Thanks to her job, Del wasn't a stranger to police departments. Too often, she'd have to take one of her kids to the cops to get them to file restraining orders—and on the rare occasion, she'd been forced to turn a few of them in. The rules of the shelter were strict and neither Del nor the director would allow them to be broken. Anybody caught selling or buying drugs while in the shelter was turned in.
She'd certainly spent enough time in these sort of places. The small rural office of the Pike County Sheriff Department wasn’t that much different. It was quieter than she was used to, but she could still hear the murmur of voices. A raised voice—somebody pissed off because he’d violated a restraining order, and the softer tones of some deputy trying to calm the offender down.
A woman Del didn’t recognize sat at the desk up front and she looked up at Del with a polite, quizzical smile. Her voice shook as she asked, “Is Blake Mitchell available?”
The words had just left her mouth when she felt him standing behind her. Slowly, she turned and looked at him, unaware of how pale she looked. He stood in the doorway of a small office. It looked about the size of her work cubicle but it had a door—that meant the door could be closed and she could have a little bit of privacy while she broke down.
That was good. Because she was going to break. Very, very shortly.
Blake’s blue eyes darkened with concern as he studied her and the gentleness in his voice made her want to weep. “What’s the matter, Dee?”
“We need to talk.” Her voice came out as a faint whisper, but it was a wonder she could speak at all, considering how damn tight her throat had gotten.
Blake simply stood aside and she shuffled past him into the office. Okay, maybe it was too small, she thought. The walls seemed to close in on her as he closed the door. He edged around her, taking care not to touch her as he moved behind the desk and bent down. When he straightened up, he held a coke in his hand. It fizzed as he popped it open and held it out to her. She wasn’t thirsty but since it gave her a reason to stall, she accepted it. “Can’t keep anything to drink in the break room,” he said, his voice casual. “People keep stealing them so I bought one of those mini fridges that you can lock.”
Del lifted the can to her lips and took a tiny sip. God, how do I do this? she thought desperately. She didn’t want to do this. Not at all.
She looked about as fragile as a piece of spun glass, Blake thought. He wanted to go to her and hold her, but like glass, he had a feeling she would shatter too easy right now. Her hands held the red aluminum can like it was a lifeline and they were shaking so that some of the soft drink had spilled but she didn’t even notice.
“Dee.” No response. “Del…Del, look at me.”
She blinked and looked up at him. Hell, her eyes were glassy and her lips were pale, all but bloodless. As she stared at him, she swayed just a little and Blake swore in silence as he moved close enough to catch her if she started to fall. She didn’t though. She looked down at the can in her hands and then set it down on the desk. Then she wiped her hands on her pants before closing them into tight fists. She said something and it was so soft, so faint, he wasn’t sure he heard her right.
Fury lit inside him and he throttled it down as he edged closer. She had her chin tucked against her chest and he could tell her eyes were shut. “Look at me, Dee,” he said quietly.
Slender shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. Then she looked up at him. Tears shone diamond-bright in her eyes but she blinked them away before they could fall.
“What did you say?”
“It was my step-father.”
The fury went from a smoldering fuse to a nuclear meltdown and it took everything inside him not to leave the office, then and there, drive to out to the Prescott manor and kill William Sanders, slow and painful. His voice was raspy as he asked, “When?”
“That summer.”
Blake’s hands closed into fists. “I’m going to kill him.” Slow. He was going to kill him, nice and slow, and he was going to enjoy every damned second of it. That was the only thought in his head, but then he looked at her. Saw the tears she was trying to hold back, saw the way she stood there, shaking.
She spun away from him a
nd he watched as she lifted her hands and covered her face. Her spine bowed forward, like the burden she was carrying inside had just become too much. The murderous rage didn’t fade, but in that moment, he couldn’t leave her any more than he could cut off his own arm.
Slowly, Blake took a deep breath and tore his mind away from the ways he wanted to maim, dismember and hurt William Sanders. That could wait. Not for long, but it could wait. Dee, on the other hand, couldn’t.
“That’s why you left.”
She gave a slight nod. Blake blew out a ragged breath and reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. Okay. He could handle this. He had known something bad happened to her, knew she had most likely been raped—it was in the way she carried herself, the changes in her. He just hadn’t expected it to be somebody he knew. “Can you tell me?”
A harsh sob left her and Blake reached for her. He just couldn’t stop it. She flinched but didn’t pull away. Keeping his touch gentle and light, he rested his hands on her waist, doing his damnedest not to make her feel trapped, prepared for the fact she was going to pull away from him. But instead, she leaned into him. Just a little. Just slightly. Her voice was halting at first, and then she started to talk faster and faster, until she was all but tripping over the words as they poured out of her.
All the while, horror and rage mingled inside of him, forming an ugly, volatile cocktail that was just waiting to implode. It had started right after he left, and kept up almost the entire damned summer. She’d lived in two months of hell and he hadn’t known. He hadn’t been able to help her. Two fucking months—
But that wasn’t the worse part, he realized as Del explained she’d told her mother. He hadn’t thought he could get more pissed—obviously, he’d been wrong. Now his fury how had two targets. “You told your mother,” he repeated, his voice flat.
Del nodded, opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out. “You’ve already come this far, Del. Get it all out,” he murmured, but she shook her head. Gently, he cupped her face and forced her to look at him.
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