Songbird Caged

by Lisa Edward

  I ran over the self-defence training I’d been taught. Rule number one was to stay calm.

  “You need to tell me where he is,” he slurred.

  “Patrick, you’re not listening. I don’t know where he is. He didn’t tell me, but he’s not here.” I could feel my pulse increasing as my eyes scanned the door for Cole. I took a deep breath, trying to hide the fear that was starting to consume me. “You need to leave.”

  He leered down at me. “I liked your underwear. I bet my brother liked it, too. All pretty and lacy.”

  I screwed up my nose. Oh, God. It was Patrick who had broken in, and left a deposit all over my lingerie and bed.

  I took a sly step backwards, and then another, trying to edge my way to the door without him noticing. Maybe if I could get enough distance between us I could make a break for it.

  He stepped forward, and grabbed the top of my arm, digging his fingers in. “You need to pass a message on for me,” he spat sinisterly.

  “Sure, I can do …”

  Whack!

  The back of his hand connected with my cheek. My head whiplashed backwards, sending a tremor through my entire body.

  Stumbling, I tried to keep my footing. The last thing I wanted was to end up on the ground. I could taste blood and tried to focus, but could see three of him in front of me.

  Keep calm, Tara, I kept repeating to myself. I bent my free arm, and swung. My elbow connected with his mouth.

  “Fucking bitch,” he yelled as he staggered backwards. He let go of my arm to raise his hand to his now bleeding lip.

  I turned and tried to make a run for it, but he grabbed hold of my hair and yanked me back. With arms flailing, I landed hard on the gravel of the car park.

  He dropped to his knees beside me. I picked up a handful of gravel and dirt and threw it in his face. He turned away, and I tried desperately to regain my footing. He grabbed hold of my ankles and dragged me towards him, the gravel slicing into my flesh. It was burning along my thigh as my dress was hitched up around my hips.

  Ignore his hands, ignore your dress, go for the nose.

  I leaned back, and with as much force as I could muster, rammed the heel of my hand into his nose.

  He cried out. The blood poured from his nose and down his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand and examined the evidence briefly, before wiping it on his filthy shirt.

  There was one terrifying moment where our eyes met, and I could see the intent behind them, then I saw his fist.

  Then total darkness.

  I tried to open my eyes and focus, but one eye just refused to budge. There was a bright light shining in my face, and I was sure I’d died and this was the bright light everyone spoke about.

  I tried to lift my hand to my face, but something was weighing it down. My head hurt, the throbbing greater than anything I’d ever felt before. My legs, my body—nothing would move. Surely you don’t feel this much pain after you die. I tried to lift my head. There was a searing pain.

  Then, darkness again.

  “Oh, thank God you’re awake.” I heard a voice say somewhere in the distance, and I knew I was safe.

  It was Cole.

  I opened my good eye, and a blurry version of Cole was sitting beside me. He had my cut-up, gravel-grazed right hand in his, and was repeatedly kissing it.

  He looked distraught. His usually smooth face looked drawn and unshaven, and I could see tear stains on his cheeks, one of which was bruised and slightly swollen.

  I tried to look around to see where I was, but my head refused to obey. Everything from my face to my toes hurt. My legs felt heavy and sore, like every muscle had been tensed and stretched as if my body were an elastic band. I tried to open my mouth to speak, and winced. My lip stung, and I licked it, tasting blood in the split I’d reopened.

  Then I remembered. I remembered everything, and realised I was laying in a hospital bed.

  Tears started to fall. I tried to use my left hand to feel under the sheets to check what I was wearing, but I couldn’t lift it. My hand and wrist were in a plaster cast that felt like it weighed a ton. I took my hand away from Cole’s, and lifted up the lightweight blanket that was covering me. I was in a hospital gown, and I could feel there was no underwear. Where was my underwear? I wanted it back. I wanted to be covered up as much as possible.

  I looked at Cole again. He had started crying too.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry,” he said through his tears. “I should never have left you out there alone.”

  “What happened?” I croaked. My throat was so dry I could hardly speak.

  I knew I’d been attacked by Patrick, but then passed out. I needed to know what had happened after that.

  “Don’t worry about that now,” he said. “I’ll let the nurses and the police know you’re awake.”

  I grabbed hold of his hand as tight as I could, stopping him from leaving.

  “What happened, Cole?”

  He sat back down, and kissed my hand again. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He dropped his head down to the bed, and I could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying again.

  I released my hand from his grasp, and ran it through his hair. “Cole, I know I was attacked but then I blacked out. I need to know what happened after that.” I swallowed hard. “Was I … was I raped?”

  He shook his head and exhaled, trying to stem the flow of tears.

  “I came out, and I couldn’t see you. I went over to the car, and I could hear something in the bushes, so I turned the headlights on. You were laying face down, and he was on top of you.” He stifled a sob. “He was just undoing his pants, but he’d already ripped your underwear off.”

  He looked at me with a pained expression. “He was about to, but he didn’t.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. My legs must have been sore because he’d dragged me through the gravel to the bushes after I’d been knocked unconscious.

  “I jumped on top of him, and got a couple of hits in.” He rubbed his bruised cheek. “He got a good one in, too. Then he ran. I was going to go after him, but I couldn’t leave you like that.”

  He buried his face in his hands, and I could hear the strain in his voice. “I thought you were dead.”

  I ran my hand through his hair again. “Thank you,” I managed through my tears.

  “For what?” he sniffled. “For leaving you out there to be attacked? I was so stupid.”

  He was beating himself up for something that wasn’t his fault. If he hadn’t come out and found us in the bushes, I don’t know what Patrick would have done. I knew him, so if he hadn’t of been disturbed, would he have left me alive to identify him?

  “I got a good look at him, and I’ve given the police a detailed description. Hopefully it will be of some use.”

  “I know who it was.”

  Cole raised his head. “You know him?”

  I tried to nod. “Yes, it was Riley’s brother. His name’s Patrick Hammond, and he’s a soldier, too, so the army should be able to locate him.”

  Cole jumped up, and raced out before I had a chance to stop him again. A moment or two later, the police and a nurse came in.

  I told them everything I knew about Patrick, and about his history of beating up Rebecca. Cole stood quietly, listening, and occasionally shaking his head as he paced the floor.

  I told them he was a soldier, and that he had told me he was the one who had broken into my apartment, so they should be able to verify the DNA with his military medical records.

  Finally, after the police left and the nurse had changed my dressings and checked my blood pressure, Cole sat back down.

  I looked down at my left hand and the plaster cast, before realising that something was missing.

  “Where’s my ring?” I asked, panicked.

  The fingers that were poking out of the top of the cast were swollen and bruised. The nails were broken and dirty, and my engagement ring was missing.

&nb
sp; Cole patted his pocket. “Don’t worry, I have your ring and bracelet. They had to cut the ring off, but it shouldn’t be difficult to get repaired.”

  “Why did they give them to you? And why are they letting you stay here? Shouldn’t they be telling you visiting hours are over?”

  He gave me a sly smile. “I told them I was your fiancé so they would let me stay.”

  KELLI CAME to visit me in the hospital the following morning, as soon as visiting hours permitted.

  She crept in, not wanting to wake me, but I was awake, I couldn’t sleep. Or, at least, I didn’t want to. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Patrick’s hateful glare staring back at me. Thanks to some painkillers, when I did manage to drift off in the middle of the night, I had dreamt of the attack in vivid colour. I had finally woken up when I felt someone shaking me from my nightmare, the timbre of their deep gravelly voice reassuring me that everything was okay. That I was safe, and the horror of the previous evening was over.

  Kelli looked over at the still sleeping Cole. His huge frame, slumped in the small uncomfortable looking chair in the corner, and smiled. She went over to him, and for the first time ever, gave him a hug.

  He woke with a start and scanned the room quickly, not knowing for the first few seconds where he was or who was hugging him.

  “Good morning, sleepy head,” she whispered in his ear.

  He looked at her, and the look of sheer panic when he realised that it was Kelli made me want to laugh. He looked around and saw me laying in the hospital bed, and I could see his mind working to piece everything together.

  “Oh, thank God,” he said, slumping back into the chair. “I thought for a minute there I’d been really drunk last night, and gone home with you,” he said good-humouredly to Kelli.

  “Ha! In your dreams, tough guy.”

  “More like my nightmares.”

  She threw her arms around his neck again and he laughed, unused to this show of affection from her. “I heard you were a bit of a hero last night,” she said with tears in her eyes.

  He shook his head, and I could see the tears starting to well in his eyes again. “No. If I was a hero, it would never have happened.”

  He was still blaming himself for something that was totally out of his control. I should have gone inside with him. I should have run as soon as I saw Patrick step out from the bushes. I should have screamed my lungs out.

  Why didn’t I scream?

  The nurse came in to check my dressings and blood pressure for what felt like the one-hundredth time. She told me that I could go home once the doctor had been to see me, provided I could get out of bed, use the bathroom, and have a shower with minimal assistance.

  Cole helped me out of bed and into the bathroom. My legs felt weak, and my head was swimming, I felt like the room was swaying, which made me feel nauseas. I really wanted to lie back down, and quickly, but I was determined to shower and dress so I could leave the hospital and go—where?

  The locks on my doors were still flimsy, and Patrick was still out there somewhere.

  “Can I stay at your place still?” I asked shakily.

  “I wouldn’t let you stay anywhere else, babe.”

  I looked in the mirror, and gasped. I hardly recognised myself. I had a cut in my hairline above my left eye, and my hair was sticking up with dried blood and dirt caked in it. My left eye was swollen and black; no wonder I couldn’t open it. The right side of my jaw was bruised, and my lip split. Through the tears that were falling again, that was all I could see in the mirror.

  Looking down at my legs, a tear fell onto my thigh, making a clean spot amongst the dirt. They were grazed, cut, and bruised, from my feet all the way up to my hips. My arms were scratched, I assumed from being dragged through the bushes, but the worst was my left wrist. I was left-handed, and I mean, totally left-handed.

  “Can you ask Kelli to come in please?” I asked Cole. “I need help with the shower.”

  “I can help you,” he volunteered.

  Looking at his face, there was no hint of suggestive playfulness, and I knew he would be able to do it, but I didn’t want him to become my carer. That wasn’t the sort of relationship I wanted ours to be. As much as I appreciated his willingness to help me, I didn’t want him to look at me the way he was looking at me now.

  “I know you can, but I’d like Kelli to help me.” I tried to wink, but failed miserably. “Maintain the mystery.”

  He nodded, but dropped his eyes, unable to meet mine and play along with my attempt to lighten the mood. For the briefest of moments, I’d forgotten that there was no mystery anymore. He’d found me in the bushes, totally exposed and lifeless, and was most likely the one who had pulled my dress back down to cover me up before the ambulance had arrived.

  From the pain in his eyes as he looked everywhere but directly at me, it appeared the image was as haunting to him as the thought of it was to me.

  We covered my plaster cast with a plastic bag, and Kelli pulled a chair into the shower for me to sit on. I had to keep the dressing on my head cut dry, so I couldn’t wash my hair just yet, but I finally managed to very uncoordinatedly wash myself with my right hand and dry off.

  I sent Cole home to get some rest. After much resistance, he finally agreed. He needed to pack his bags for the family vacation he would be leaving on the following day, but made me promise to call when I was being discharged so he could drive me home.

  “So, why did you want to get rid of Cole?” Kelli asked with an eyebrow cocked.

  I tried to smile. Not much got past Kelli. “I need to write a letter to Riley. I owe him one, anyway, and I need to tell him about Patrick.” I held up my plastered left hand. “I’ll need you to write for me.”

  Kelli sat with her pen poised over the paper, waiting for me to start the dictation. I ran over all the things I needed to tell Riley in my head, but my mind was jumbled, and everything I thought of came out sounding negative.

  The last letter I had received from him had really upset me. He had been against my involvement in the restaurant. He had been harsh on Cole, and had admitted to helping Rebecca. Then I found out he had asked our friends to spy on us. I couldn’t think of anything positive or loving to say.

  I looked up at Kelli. “Maybe we should do this later, Kell.”

  She shook her head. “Not everything you say to each other is going to be all hearts and roses. Lord knows, I’ve written some scathing letters to Coop in the past when he’s pissed me off.” She came over, sat on the edge of the bed, and held my hand. “If he was here now and you could talk to him, what would you want to say? You can’t sugar-coat things just because he’s overseas. If you’re pissed with him, tell him why.”

  I nodded and exhaled. I was ready to get it all out.

  To my Irish,

  I know you’ve just flicked to the end of the letter to see who this is from, but yes, it is me, it’s just not my handwriting. Kelli is writing for me because I’ve broken my wrist—I’ll get to that in a minute.

  I received your letter a few days ago, and you were right, I was upset. I’m sorry I didn’t wait to hear back from you before going ahead with buying into Songbirds, but I needed something to do to fill my time while you’re away, and I really wanted to help Marcus.

  I hope you understand that I’m not going out every night, throwing my money around on trivial things. I’m still living the life I was living when you were here, still in my apartment with the same furniture and wearing the same clothes. Yes, I have left work so I can focus on the restaurant, but I had some money saved, and was owed some holiday pay, so I am not using my trust fund for day-to-day living.

  I want you to be as excited about this venture as I am. This is for our future. It’s not a passing phase, it’s a change of career for me, and maybe when you come home and move to Melbourne, and eventually leave the army, you will want to help run the restaurant, or help in some other way. This could be something we do together.

  So I’ll tell you about w
hat we’ve been doing.

  We’ve started work on the upstairs area, and I’ve chosen the colour scheme and some of the furniture. I took a group of our friends out to dinner to different restaurants to sample the food that the potential chefs had prepared, and we have found a chef named Lincoln Young who is brilliant. He’ll fit in really well at Reds.

  Yes, Reds is the name of the restaurant. It’s going to be like a 1920s jazz club, all decadent and luxurious, and I’m hoping to put a show together once I’m back on my feet and can find some dancers. That will come later. For the time being, I just want to get the restaurant part up and running.

  I need to tell you that I felt betrayed after reading your letter.

  Why didn’t you tell me you were still in contact with Rebecca, and giving her money? I can’t for the life of me understand why you felt the need to support her, unless there’s something more to your relationship than you initially let on. But I really don’t know why you felt you had to keep it from me. As you said, we’re engaged, and this is supposed to be a partnership, so finding out that you’ve been staying in touch with her all along has really put doubts in my mind. This is something that I need to talk to you about in person, because it is REALLY eating at me.

  After I read your letter I went out and got a tattoo. I got the word FAITH written on my wrist, because I have faith in us and that we can get through the separation. Then I found out that you were spying on me, and I have to tell you, it has rocked my faith a little bit.

  I know you’ll say that you trust me, and it’s just Cole you don’t trust. After all this time you still think he is just after one thing, but if you believe that he will try something and succeed, then you obviously don’t trust me either. That really hurts.

  So I need to tell you what‘s been happening here.

  Someone broke into my apartment a couple of nights ago, when I was out, and ejaculated on my lingerie and bed (yuck!). The police told me that it was most likely someone I knew, and as it turns out, they were right.

  Last night, when I was leaving work, your brother, Patrick, was waiting for me. He was drunk, and said that Rebecca had left him to be with you, and he wanted to know where you were. I told him that you were overseas, so Rebecca hadn’t really left him for you, so he asked me to pass on a message to you.