All of ME

by Sabrina Archer

  "If I can't have you, I will make sure no one will want you," he laughs as he presses it deeper into my flesh.

  I can feel my warm blood beginning to pool under my head as he cuts down my face. The pain is too much and I can feel myself losing consciousness. "Maddy," I whisper, looking up at him one last time, as my eyes fall shut and I’m thrust into darkness.

  Brandon

  Every time I call her phone it goes straight to voice mail. After four hours of trying to get ahold of Carlie, I begin to worry and head home. I pull into the apartment complex and notice a strange car in my spot. Sitting in the truck for a bit longer it hits me, that's Josh’s fucking car. Why is his car at my place when I'm not there?

  I reach to turn the knob and it's locked. I dig my keys from my pocket. Carefully placing the keys in the lock and turning, I hear a faint sounds coming from inside. I close the door behind me and hear groaning from my bedroom. Creeping down the hallway, the sounds become louder and I realize that these aren't sounds of pain, but pleasure.

  Standing in front of the bedroom door for what feels like an eternity, I clench my fists so tight my fingernails are digging into my palms. Slowly turning the doorknob, I hesitantly fling open the door and there they are, entangled.

  "Fuck!" Josh says when he sees me. He jumps up and practically throws Carlie off of him. She turns her head and rolls her eyes at me.

  "Really Josh?" I ask waiting for some sort of explanation.

  His face goes pale. "Man, I can explain," he says.

  "What is there to explain?" I ask, "I come home to my apartment and find my so called best friend screwing my girl. In. My. Bed!" I reply.

  "It's not what you think,” he says covering himself with a pillow.

  "It's not what I think? What the hell? Oh wait, let me guess, it's all completely accidental. She thought you were me and you thought she was Michelle?"

  Josh stands there just staring at me. Carlie rolls her eyes again and gets out of the bed. She walks around the picking up anything she can and throws it at me. "This is your fuckin' fault!" she screams.

  "Oh, so this is my fault?" I ask dodging the shoe she throws at me.

  "Oh shut the hell up, Brandon," Carlie says, "If you were ever around I wouldn't need someone on the side."

  My blood pressure is rising and anger is surging through me. Josh looks like a gust of wind would knock him over and Carlie is muttering under her breath. I take a step towards them and her other shoe whizzes by my head. At this point every ounce of self-control I have is being pushed to the limits.

  "What are you going to do? Kick my ass? Kick his ass?" Carlie asks in a taunting tone.

  I take a step back and put my hands up. "Screw this. Carlie, pack your shit and get the hell out of here. I'm going for a drive and I want both of you gone when I get back," I say, turning to leave.

  After driving around for a couple hours I've come to the conclusion that love sucks, plain and simple; it is a useless emotion that only causes heartache. I have resolved to never let anyone else in. Denial is vicious; it will play games with your heart and make you think everyone is a liar, except for her. She'd never do that, or so I thought. Plain and simple, love is useless.

  Walking back into my apartment, just after dark, I notice the place is trashed. I sigh and curse under my breath. Just as I begin to clean up broken glass, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I ignore it as everything begins to crash down on me. The worst part is I knew something was wrong. With all the late nights and flirty texts that I had seen, how could I have been so blind to what was unfolding in front of me? I sling an already cracked glass that shatters when it hits the wall. The incessant vibration coming from my pocket drives me to the verge of insanity so I answer it.

  "What!" I hiss into the phone.

  "Brandon? Are you alright?" Dr. Iverson asks.

  I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes before responding, "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry Doc, I've had a rough day."

  "I hate to be abrupt, hearing the distress in your voice, but we really need you. It seems the full moon is reigning supreme tonight and we’re overwhelmed."

  "What?" I ask.

  "In other words, we are busy and understaffed," he says again, and I can hear the weariness in his voice.

  "Let me get cleaned up and I'll be right there," I reply.

  "Thank you," he says, “You can have tomorrow off."

  "Yes sir. I'll be there within the hour."

  "Thanks again, bye," he says and the line goes quiet. I hit end and lay my phone down on the kitchen counter before going to wash up some.

  Chapter Seven: Tragedy Strikes

  "Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends."- William Shakespeare

  Brandon

  The emergency department is slammed when I get there. Going through the motions of checking in on each patient and making sure they are comfortable keeps my mind off of Carlie. I head back to the desk as another ambulance pulls up. Stepping out to offer the medics assistance, my heart drops. "Jasmine," I whisper under my breath. Her blood soaked hair and the jagged cut down her face are disturbing. A teenage boy steps off the ambulance behind her.

  "What happened, was she in a wreck?" I ask the distraught young man.

  "N-n-no," he stutters, "I don't know what happened to her."

  I quickly usher him into the waiting room and get back on the floor. She’s wheeled immediately away and I can barely concentrate on my patients. I sit at the computer, just staring at the screen.

  "Doc?” asks the nurse across the desk from me. "She isn’t showing any signs of consciousness and she’s going to be taken to ICU." I nod.

  "Is she going to wake up?” the young man asks, clearly concerned as they walk into her room.

  "I don't know," I hear the nurse admit from the doorway.

  "I sure hope so; Jasmine's a really great girl. She's works here and she's had a lot thrown at her, but she just takes it all and smiles." The young man scoots the chair a little closer to the side of the bed and takes her left hand in his own, uncertain of what to do next. He looks over at me when I come through the door.

  "I'm the one who found her," he repeats over and over, clearly feeling guilty. "She had ordered a pizza, which I was delivering, and I was late getting it to her. My girlfriend and I were having an argument so I pulled the car over to try to talk it out with her."

  I nod and his eyes begin to fill with tears so I walk over and pat him on the shoulder. "This isn't your fault; whoever did this was probably scared away by you. In fact, you saved her life by acting so quickly and responsibly."

  He nods, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "When she wakes up will you call me?” he asks.

  "Of course, I will," I reply, taking the now crinkled piece of paper from his hand. I look down at the name and number scrawled across the piece of paper. "Austin?"

  "Yeah,” he asks.

  "I'm sure she’ll be happy to thank you herself when she wakes up." He smiles and walks out the door.

  Standing there, looking at her sweet face, I would love to know who did this to her, and show them the same courtesy. Looking at her tears me up inside, wondering how anyone could do this horrible thing to someone. I quickly check her vitals and place another blanket over her before leaving.

  Jasmine

  My eyes flutter open slowly only to find my vision distorted, and there's a burning sensation on the left side of my face. Blinded by the bright overhead lights, I close my eyes again.

  "Miss Grayson," I hear, coming from only inches away.

  Turning my face to the right, I open my eyes and try to make out who is talking to me. As my eyes begin to focus, panic fills me and I try to sit up. I scream out in pain as the soothing voice speaks again. "Don't try to sit up. Do you know where you are?” he asks.

  "Maddy! Maddy," I scream as loud as I can. "Where's my baby?"

  "Calm do
wn, Miss Grayson, your daughter is with your aunt."

  "No," I say, barely audible. "Where am I?" I ask and tears fill my eyes from the pain. My throat feels like I swallowed acid.

  "You’re in the ICU at Health Guard Medical Center."

  Everything begins to come rushing back and I begin to remember what happened. I lie there staring at the person talking to me. "Do I know you?" I ask.

  "Yes, Miss Grayson, you do. You and I were the closest of friends and I had the pleasure of running into you at Bottlestopper a few days ago."

  As my thoughts begin to become focused I recognize him. "Brandon Whitaker," I whisper as loudly as I can.

  "Yeah," he says running his fingers through his hair. The nurse comes in, bringing some pain medication.

  "Well hello, Doc," she says to Brandon.

  "Hey, Amelia," he responds. Amelia smiles at him and is probably thinking the same thing I am.

  "Jasmine, this will probably make you sleepy," she says. I nod as the cold injection fills my veins. In a few moments, I can feel my eyes sliding shut as the pain begins to subside.

  ~~~~

  "You do know that people who have never been abused often wonder why a person wouldn't just leave. They don't understand that breaking up can be more complicated than it seems," Brandon says.

  "But I did leave. I ran hoping that my past wouldn't find me."

  "Well some of your past is sitting here in front of you and you left me. I never forgot you."

  Sitting there unable to speak, I try to figure out how long I've been here. "What day is it?" I ask.

  "It's Tuesday, Miss Grayson," he replies, watching me closely.

  I remember it being Friday. As I sit there trying to comprehend what he has just told me, my mind begins to wonder.

  "Miss Grayson, are you okay?"

  "I'm as good as I can be, considering the circumstances. I have an answer to your question; I left because of fear, and I'm afraid of what will happen if I decide to press charges. I have very few people I can trust." I’m also aware of my cell lighting up and then fading dim as it rests on the table next to the bed. I can't bring myself to move, or answer the persistent calls from Jeff. He did this and there’s no way I can ever put myself in that situation again.

  Besides the beat of my heart, the only sounds in the room are Brandon’s baritone voice and the constant hum of the machines. He continues to talk and I lose myself in the reality of what happened. Brandon becomes silent as he observes me. I can still feel the piece of glass from the shattered whiskey bottle jaggedly tearing into my face and slicing down to my neck. I immediately bring my hand up to the left side of my face. I cringe at the pain that radiates from it when I touch my face. I suck in as much air as my lungs will allow and let it out slowly. My eyes fall to my right hand and the cut that has been closed with black surgical thread. A flash of memory seared into my mind comes to the forefront.

  As I continue to look over myself, I see the sporadic bruises that line my arms and my whole body feels like it's been beaten to a pulp. Shifting the blanket slowly to reveal my legs, I find dark purple bruises and scratches on my thighs. As I pull my gown up higher the damage increases. I can feel the color leaving my face when I notice the net-like looking underwear and pad in place.

  Tears begin to fill my eyes, "Did he rape me?" I ask holding my breath. He shakes his head and I release my breath slowly, grateful some part of me is still intact. As I continue to inspect myself, I have to bite my tongue to keep from gasping. The bruise hidden by my gown looks nasty, it's the darkest of purple, outlined by red and yellow, just above my hip on my right side. Pulling the gown back down, I feel the tears sliding down my face. "Can I have a mirror?" I ask.

  "I don't see why not, but brace yourself; it's not pretty," he says handing me a small hand mirror and I peer at my horrid reflection.

  An angry red and jagged line runs from my ear to my collarbone. My neck is circled in a reddish purple ring reminiscent of being strangled. The whites of my eyes are bloodshot in a pale, opaque hue of pink. As I continue to scrutinize my face, I notice stitching in the corner of my mouth and dried blood still lingering on my hairline. Flinging the mirror across the room, I scream as the sobs rip from my chest.

  He pulls himself closer to me and wraps his arms around in a useless effort to comfort. "Calm down, Miss Grayson," he says softly patting my back. "I know this isn't easy, but it's best if you remain calm."

  I nod and try to breathe slowly. "Please, call me Jasmine," I reply through my tears.

  "Okay Jasmine,” he says, “Look at me. We will take care of you and the detective will be in here shortly for your statement. If you in fact know who is responsible for this, you need to tell them."

  I shake my head in heavy denial. The one person who saved me from a similar situation, has surpassed anything my parents had ever done to me. "How could he do this?" I whisper to myself as Brandon continues to hold me.

  Dr. Iverson comes in with a disgusted look on his face. "Miss Grayson, it looks like you will be with us for a few days. Along with your obvious injuries you have multiple fractured ribs and we want to be certain they don't puncture your lungs." I nod and wipe my tears away with then hem of my gown. "Would you like me to call your aunt?" I shake my head and hear the familiar tap of my supervisor’s boots coming down the hallway.

  "Oh my God, Jasmine,” she whispers as she walks through the door. She freezes a couple feet from me and her mouth drops. Her eyes make their way down my face and onto my neck. She pulls her hand up her mouth, muffling her cries. She rushes over to me, hugging me tightly and I cry out. "Oh. I’m sorry," she says wiping her tears away with her fingers. She nods to Dr. Iverson and Brandon. "You boys better take good care of my girl," she tells them. "Jasmine, I hate to leave, but I’ve got to get back to work. When Cami told me they brought you in I came down to check on you. I had no idea it was this bad," she says trying to remain composed. Leslie hugs me lightly and leaves the room quickly; I can hear her heaving in the hallway.

  Brandon comes back over and sits on the stool. "I thought you worked here," he says quietly before I cut him off.

  "I work in labor and delivery," I reply in a garbled voice. Brandon sits there looking at me like he wants to say something, but he never does. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. A slight click of the door startles me, and my eyes pop open, finding myself all alone. I feel useless, like a failure. All I want to do now is lie down and give up, let the darkness take over. Closing my eyes again, I feel tears start to trickle down my cheeks to the pillow, until eventually sleep finds me.

  ~~~~

  The dim light in the room begins to become brighter as the door slowly creaks open. I open my eyes slowly, squinting, and trying to make out the face in the dark. His feet slide across the linoleum quietly. I almost get a good look at the man when I catch a whiff of his cologne. I freeze, like a deer in the headlights. It's Jeff, it has to be. Opening my mouth to scream he must sense it and he places his hand over my mouth. I try to reach the nurse’s button, but the pain in my chest and my side limits my movement.

  "Don't scream, okay?,” he says in a whisper. I nod lightly. "If you're going to scream I'll just leave my hand where it is, and I'm sure it's quite unpleasant." I nod again as my eyes begin to flood with tears. "Listen to me Jasmine, I'm sorry. I went crazy when you wouldn't listen to me," he says, his voice dripping with guilt.

  When I dare to look up again, Jeff turns his head so that the dim light filtering through the blinds hit his face. He's unshaven and still in the same clothes. His bloodshot eyes are swollen and he looks a fright. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes is so potent I want to gag. I lay there unable to move, even more afraid to speak, because I know if I open my mouth I will scream.

  Jeff looks down at me, "Jasmine, damn it, I love you.”

  I draw in a deep breath when he begins to move his hand. "Why?" I sob, "Why would you do this to me? What about our daughter? She will be scarred for life! You were the one in
the wrong."

  "Fuck!” he screams, rearing his hand back to slap me. Unable to move without crying out in pain, it’s all I can do to bring my arms up to protect my face. Jeff catches himself only inches from me. “We'll talk when you get out of here," he says stumbling to the door.

  Staring at the window as he creeps by, I inhale deeply and shift to reach the call button. I hold my finger just over it and contemplate whether I should or not. He is clearly dangerous and I don't want anyone else caught in the crosshairs of his rage, so I place it back down on the bed and sit there in the darkness.

  Every sound makes me jumpy and I can feel the medicine wearing off. My phone begins to ring so I reach over and look at it. The picture is one of the best memories I have. It's the picture of Jeff and me when we moved into our house a little over a year ago. I hit ignore on the screen and power off my phone. As I close my eyes to keep the tears from falling, the door opens and I immediately panic.

  "Jasmine?" Brandon asks as he flips on the light.

  "Yeah?" I ask trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Like crap," I reply.

  He frowns, "I'm sorry to hear that, but on the bright side you are alive.”

  "I'd actually welcome death right now," I murmur to myself.

  He looks at me with shock on his face. "I would have thought you to be much stronger than that," he says, coming over to sit on the stool beside the bed.

  "I am, really. I'm just...afraid of the person who did this," I reply unable to look at him.

  "You know who did this to you?” he asks. I nod, staring down at my hands. "Did you tell the police?” he asks, placing his fingers under my chin so I'll look at him. Shaking my head slowly, I can see the fire in his eyes. He draws in an exasperated breath and asks, "Why didn't you tell them?"

  I've been waiting for this question to surface, anticipating exactly what I would say, but I have no words. We sit there just staring at each other when the door swings open startling me yet again.