by J. Dorothy
“Sorry,” Cam repeats for the third time. “Maybe we should let you rest,” his eyes scan my face, and the pitying look is back in his eyes. He obviously doesn't want to upset me, he was probably warned by the doctors, I could be delicate and still in shock.
And maybe I am. I feel pretty numb to be honest. Like I just woke from a really bad dream, and I'm realizing the night is not the day, and all is well. When it's not. The nightmare was very real and very scary. And thinking about it again, is making my heart race, and the monitor beeps faster in response.
Bailey flicks her gaze to it, and says, “Yeah, I think we should go, Jen. You need to rest and look after Treasure Pot. We'll come back soon. We just wanted to let you know we're here for you.”She leans over and kisses the top of my head.
Well that was a little weird and awkward, but I give her a small smile. Grateful she's here and that she's okay. God knows she could have been caught up in this, or hurt by Jason in his attempt to get to me. Doesn't bear thinking about. I give an involuntary shiver. Now I do want to blank it all out again, it's too much right now. I just want to focus on Treasure Pot. The only thing keeping me calm.
I give a quick nod, and squeeze Cam's hand. He leans down and kisses my cheek. “You rest up, beautiful girl, and we'll see you soon, okay.”
I swallow the lump in my throat once more and bite my lip. So grateful for the two of them, I don't have anyone else. I won't be having any other visitors, no one else to be concerned for my welfare. That chokes me up again, as I think of Tanning. I haven't thought of him since I was kidnapped. It's another level of pain, knowing I've lost him. And he won't be the guy to worry over me, or check I'm okay. He's probably off somewhere with that skanky girl, not giving me a second thought. I close my eyes for a minute, just to try and rest my mind. I'm so mixed up right now.
I don't hear Bailey and Cam leave, I'm too wrapped up in my thoughts. But when I open my eyes, they're gone. And that's when I lose it and the tears come, flooding my face, choking my throat, clenching my stomach. God it hurts so bad. I am such a mess, and I can't fight against the tide of grief overwhelming me right now, my whole body is drowning in it, and for once I let it, as I let it all go.
TWeNTY-NiNe
_________________________
It's been two days. Two days of healing so the doctors have told me. They haven't let police or anyone question me, giving me the chance to recuperate. Huh, that's a crock, two days to sit here stewing on everything and not being given any answers is driving me insane, more than if they'd just get the inevitable over and done with. I don't have any nails left, I've well and truly bitten them all off. I can't sit still, I've been pacing the floor, waiting for the cops to come. Bailey and Cam have been in to visit every day. They sit with me, but even they haven't said much, they keep changing the subject whenever I try and talk about it.
The only thing I do know is that I'm in some kind of private hospital in Chicago. Bailey and Cam have been staying with Bennett. Which I don't think has been altogether easy for Bailey, it's the first time she's been back since she left. But I really appreciate them being here, or I probably would have gone completely nuts.
All the machines have been taken away, and my bruises and cuts are starting to heal. I hate looking at them, they take me back to that terrible scene, and I start shaking and crying. So now I don't look in mirrors. I need to keep strong. I can't keep losing it, or they'll never talk to me. I need to move forward, to forget it all. Needs and reality are very different though. I dream about it every night, and the tiniest thing will remind me, and I'm right back in those woods, blind, mute, helpless...
My dark thoughts are interrupted by muffled gruff voices from the other side of my door, and I freeze instantly. The cops have been keeping a post outside my door since I was admitted, not sure what that's all about, but I'm determined to find out. Today is the day, I vow to myself, even though a tiny voice is screaming, you're not ready.
One of the muffled voices is raised higher than the others, and I recognize it. It's Travis. And he seems hell bent on getting in here. Oh, shit. I don't know if I can be in the same room with him just yet. I mean, I know he saved me, but he also cut me, and that memory scares the crap out of me. I can't let it go. I cower in the corner, and wrap my arms around my stomach, the shakes are back and I can't seem to stop them. My lips are trembling, I pull at the maternity top Bailey brought me. It's not cold in here, but all of a sudden I have a bad case of the chills.
Travis, continues to argue, and I suck in a huge breath, hoping he doesn't win. Hoping he doesn't come in here.
Shit. Too late.
I bite my lip hard as he enters the room. He looks awful, like he hasn't slept in days. His blonde hair is a mess, his black shirt is rumpled and hanging out, his jeans are stained with patches of dirt. The bruises over his eye and cheek are swollen and purple, the cuts on his face still dry with congealed blood.
Oh, holy hell, seeing him brings it all back, and I'm there, in that woodland, being carried by him. Oh shit, I can't take that. I collapse to the floor, and I'm crying again. So much for keeping it together.
Travis doesn't move. He stays still. “Jen, please ...” he whispers.
I choke on another sob and squeeze my eyes closed. Hearing his voice stabs my heart and I recoil even further into the corner, trying to get some kind of comfort from the cold walls.
“Jen, we need to talk, please, please, let me explain ... it's killing me ... I really need to talk to you.”
I hear the smallest hitch of his breath and the desperation in his voice, and it brings me to my senses for a moment. He sounds like he's hurting, hurting badly. I've never heard such emotion from him before.
I take a big gulp of air and open my eyes, forcing myself to look at him. The pain in his messed up face, makes me suck in another breath. God, he looks so tormented right now. His fist clenched at his side, his whole body stiff and tense. His normal icy eyes, watery and red raw.
“Um ... okay,” I stutter. I can't say much more, my throat is dry and my whole body is still shaking.
Travis hangs his head and looks down to the floor, closing his eyes for a moment. “Please, don't be scared of me. I can't stand to think, I frighten you. I'm so sorry, Jen ...” he blows out a large breath, and opens his eyes again giving me an intense, sincere look.
I don't know how, but I manage to get up off the floor, my legs are like jelly but I make it over to the leather arm chair and sit, curling my legs up underneath me, wrapping myself in my blanket. It comforts me, as the warmth slowly seeps in, and stills my shaking limbs.
Travis doesn't attempt to come closer, but he's watching me, like he wants to. I don't want that. I want him to stay away. He's close enough for now.
“Can I ?... Can I sit down?” he asks with a frown.
I give a small nod, watching him carefully.
He turns and strides to the far corner of the room and pulls the chair back to the place where he was standing. He must understand I don't want him any closer. He sits, his knees wide apart and his elbows resting on them, cradling his head in his hands. Sitting in that pose, makes me more comfortable, as long as he doesn't move.
We watch each other with wary expressions for a few moments, neither of us speaking. I can hear his breathing getting slower and steadier, he must have been really nervous before. I wonder why he's waiting, he said he wanted to talk. My reaction to him, must have thrown him off guard. I don't know what else he expected. Certainly not welcoming him with open arms. That was never going to happen.
He clenches his head harder. “I'm so glad you're okay.”
I nod. Still not ready to speak to him.
“I ... I really don't know where to start. But you have to know Jen, all I did ...” he scans my face until his eyes rest on my slashed cheek.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I hate thinking about that moment, when he cut me. My cheek stings in response.
He sighs heavy. “All that I did ... I had no cho
ice. My only motive was to keep you alive, whatever it took.”
I bite my lip.
“He ... he lost it, Jen. I ... had to play along. Please, you have to believe me. I would never hurt you. I couldn't. You're the mother of my baby. And you're ... I mean ... you mean a lot to me.”
Okay. I still can't forgive him just yet. Not until I know it all. And I know in the end he saved me, but in my mind he's a big part of the pain, and it will take time.
I nod again and close my eyes.
He sighs once more, and I hear the chair scrape, as he stands up. “I should go.”
I nod for the third time, but I don't open my eyes.
“Thanks, Jen. Thanks for letting me see you. I know that wasn't easy. I hope ... I mean I hope in time .. you can forgive me.”
I keep my eyes shut, as the door closes, then I let out a big breath and hold my arms tighter around myself.
Maybe I was wrong, maybe two days is not enough.
THiRTY
_________________________
It took five days. Now here I am sitting in a nice new office, waiting for a detective. Bailey and Cam offered to be here, but I told them I could do it. That I needed to do it alone.
To be honest, I don't want them to know. It's hard enough for me, I don't want pity in their eyes reliving all the gory details. I also don't want them judging Travis for the part he played in the ordeal. I've thought about that a lot. That, and what he said to me. He hasn't been back. He sent some flowers and a card, with just one word: Sorry. The only contact he's made, and I'm grateful he's giving me time. I've needed it.
Now I'm here, ready to answer questions, and to ask some questions of my own. Now I want to know what happened. All the sordid details. I'm sure Travis has filled the cops in on the blanks. I'm sure they have the whole story, this is just procedure, to get my statement, to dot all the i's and cross all the t's.
The door swings open and a tall man in a navy blue suit, with matching tie, smiles at me. He looks about the same age as my dad and has the same short back and sides haircut. A tinge of hurt edges its way into my heart, knowing neither of my parents have tried to contact me. I know they don't know what happened, but that doesn't make it any easier. The whole affair is being kept quiet, the media hasn't reported on it, and I'm still in the dark as to why. I'm hoping today I will get the answer to that question and the many others I have.
“Hi there Ms Jaimeson, I'm Detective Sanders, thanks for coming in to see me today.”
I give him a small smile. He has a calmness about him that puts me at ease.
He shuffles through some paperwork on his desk, and finds a form that he places in front of him and clicks his pen. “Now, I know this will not be easy for you, and any time it gets too much we can stop. We don't have to go through everything today. You can take as much time as you need.”
I nod, showing him I understand.
“Okay, good.” He readjusts his tie, and pulls at his collar, his blue eyes are clear and honest as he looks at me. “I will also be taking notes, and recording our session, it's part of procedure, in case we need to re-examine your statement. Is that okay with you?”
I nod again and swallow. That is one recording I would never want to listen to. I'm doing this one time, and one time only, then I fully intend to push all these thoughts to that dark place in my mind. A place I don't ever want to re-visit. I'm sick of mess. I need to tidy up and get back on the right rails.
“Yes,” I say firmly.
He smiles warmly. “We appreciate your cooperation on this. Whenever you are ready, you can give me your statement. Tell me what you remember and any details you want to add. I might ask a question here and there, but for the most part I just want to hear what you have to say.”
“Okay ...”
And so I begin. I tell him the whole story. From the time I went to sleep at Bailey's, to waking up in the van, to being in the woods, to biting Jason, to passing out, to being in Travis's arms and escaping to find the police.
He never asks any questions, his pen scratching every now and then. He doesn't stop me talking and I'm grateful. I know if I stopped I might never continue. I need to purge it all at once.
When I'm finished I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I open my eyes again, as there is silence in the room. Detective Saunders pulls at his collar and smiles warmly at me, but there is pity in his eyes. I'm sure he's heard his fair share of graphic and horrific stories, and I wonder if it gets any easier to bear witness. From the intense look of concern he's giving me, I guess not.
“Thank you,” he says and sighs as he leans back in his chair, after throwing his pen on the desk. “You are one brave young lady. I can't even imagine how hard that would have been for you.”
I can feel tears burning my eyes, but I refuse to let them flow today. “I um ... I have questions.”
The detective arches a brow, obviously not expecting that. “Of course. I'll try and answer them as well as I can. But ...” He leans forward and his eyes widen a little. “Are you sure you're ready to hear the answers. It might be too much in one day.”
“I have to know,” I whisper.
He nods. “Yeah, I get that. Okay, so you want me to fill in the blanks for you?”
“Please.”
Wow, wow and holy cow.
I'm sitting here blinking and trying to process it all. Every scary detail of how close I came to losing my life and those around me losing theirs. In some way being in the dark made it easier. I didn't have to deal with the whole sordid mess. And now, well now, I know it all. The detective didn't falter once in the telling, and made sure to include all the details. I have no more questions. Only answers, and it's not exactly making me feel better. In fact if I could rewind the past hour and go back, I would. Anything to erase the nightmare, I've found myself in.
The nightmare that is Jason.
Apparently he was in Bailey's house. In my room waiting. He'd crept in Bailey's window during the night, and lay in wait. He'd waited for me and Travis to come back from Tanning's, then he'd text Travis to tell him he wanted to meet with him. Everything was planned in great detail. Every move he'd made was well thought out. Then he drugged me while I was asleep, and he attacked Bailey and drugged her. A little bit of information she neglected to reveal, no wonder Cam was so freaked out and they didn't want to tell me.
They aren't quite sure where he took me next, but he waited a full day before blackmailing Travis, who was frantic by then, not knowing where I'd gone. Travis was instructed to obtain the van and meet Jason near an old abandoned farmhouse, with the threat that if he told the police, Jason would find out and kill me. He held a gun on me most of the time, and Travis had to do everything he said.
His big plan was to stage our deaths. Mine and Jason's. Hence the gunshots, the slash on my cheek and cutting my hair, taking my clothes, the photographs. Detective Sanders didn't tell me who the actual bodies were that Jason planned to burn in our place, and I didn't ask. He wanted to keep me and the baby alive. He had plane tickets to South America. Detective Sanders said if he'd got that far, they wouldn’t have a hope of ever finding me again. Jason had contact with some of the drug lords down there, and had made a deal to hide us. That little bit of information nearly made me lose my breakfast. Imagining having my baby in some disease infested jungle hideaway, with Jason and a bunch of crazy drug lords as my only source of medical support. That is worse than a nightmare, more like my own personal version of hell.
If it wasn't for my actions, that could have been my fate. Apparently my distracting tactics, caught Jason off guard for the split second Travis needed to tackle him and wrestle the gun off him. Except in their struggle, the gun went off and the gas can was kicked over, starting the fire. Jason fled the scene, like the chicken shit he really is. And that's when Travis got me out of there and rescued me.
And the clincher.
The whole reason Jason had me targeted in the first place.
The reason for all m
y torment these past months.
The reason I nearly lost Treasure Pot.
The reason I nearly died.
All came down to one denomination.
One fact alone.
My father.
THiRTY-oNe
_________________________
It's been nearly two months since it happened. It's been a slow and painful recovery. The emotional scars will never heal like the physical ones. I am trying to live a normal life. To forget. And some days, some moments, I do. Until the darker thoughts seep into my conscious, and I can't filter them out. The police insisted I see a psychiatrist. I have my first appointment tomorrow after work. I'm not looking forward to it. I don't know if I can put a voice to all the pain and memories, and not sure if I want to. But if I ever want my life back, I have to, for my sake and for Treasure Pot.
Everyone has been great. Cam and Bailey have been the best friends ever. I'm still staying with Bailey and her Dad. He's adopted me like a long lost daughter. I tell Bailey it must be the cookies I bake each day especially for him. But that's the least I can do, after he's taken such wonderful care of me.
And Travis, well I'm trying really hard. I've only seen him a couple of times since I spoke to Detective Saunders. He understands, but I can still see the hurt in his eyes. I know I will get there, and time will be the best healer. I am so grateful to him, but seeing him just brings it all back, and I need some distance. The day he came to see me, was the day he caught Jason. He hadn't stopped looking for him. Once he saw me safe into police custody, he ran back into the woodlands, and didn't let up until they found him. Jason only managed to make it to the edge of the woods, where he tried to hide out in a drain. In their struggle Travis had injured him pretty badly, so he couldn't move fast and didn't have a chance of getting away.
As for my father, I haven't been able to speak to him. I can't help but blame him and his poor decisions for causing all the pain I've had to go through. Selfish acts have consequences, and it's a bit of a ripple effect. Effecting more people than you might realize. Jason's dad killed himself because he lost everything. He was a client of my dad, and remained so even after they moved back to Chicago. My father made poor decisions regarding not only his own money, but the money of his clients. Jason wanted to hurt my dad, the way he hurt his family. He wanted to take his family away, the way his family had been taken from him. And he nearly succeeded.