by V. L. Brock
My mother’s footsteps echoing through the spacious downstairs, followed by the rushing of padding, bare feet were heard, nonetheless, he didn’t let me go and for that I was thankful. Together, Mom and Brittany breathed my name with weighted relief, as their arms circled both me and my dad.
I have no idea how long we stayed there in a comfortable, gratified silence, with only my soft sobbing sounds being drowned out against the woven fabric of my daddy’s shirt. After what felt like a lifetime of tears streaming down my cheeks and the lump in my throat easing somewhat, I was finally asked, “Where’s your belongings, chickpea?”
I pulled away from his warmth, causing Mom and my baby sister to fall away from me as I bent down and collected my bag. “This is all I own,” I muttered.
“This bag is all you own?” Mom asked, incredulous, with a disapproving shake of her head. “Marcus, we must take her out clothes shopping tomorrow. No daughter of mine is living out of a gym bag.”
“Judy…” Dad swallowed me up in his arms once again. Knowing that in the state I was in, my mother’s well-defined care could be easily be misconstrued, his large, mature hands successfully managed to muffle the voices around me by making a protective covering over the arch of my ears. Kissing my head again, his hands slipped to my shoulders.
“It’s so great to have you home, Sis. Here, give me the bag and I’ll take it up to your room.”
“No,” I fought back, pulling on one of the brown leather handles. As stupid and childish as it sounded, it was my bag, a bag which was resting on Walker’s bed only a mere few hours ago and I didn’t want it to be sullied with anyone else’s fingers.
With grave eyes, Brittany, amongst her faded pink hair, reluctantly pulled back.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” how could I even put it into words what I wanted to say? I don’t want you touching my bag because the last person who touched it was the man who tore my heart from my chest?
Planting a tender kiss on my forehead, it was as though I was transported back to that little girl I once was; the one who’s hero was always her Daddy. “It’s okay, chickpea. Your mom made pasta bake and I’m sure there’s enough to feed five thousand in that dish. I can fix you some up.”
As generous as the offer had been, the last thing I wanted was food. It was roughly 10:00 p.m., and all I wanted to do was crawl into a soft bed, hide under the comforter and allow the rest of my miserable, pathetic excuse of a life to just pass me by without my knowledge.
I escaped the clutches of my family, the family I had cut from my life because of a man who I believed loved me and would look after me. Well, one thing I now know is for certain; it’s true what they say: blood is thicker than water.
With my duffle bag hooked over the crook of my arm, I made my way slowly up the staircase, holding onto the white gloss balustrade which held even more memories. How a balustrade could hold memories is beyond me, but mine did. The times I would slide down it, sidesaddle, and fall into Dad’s awaiting arms, my small prancing on the tiny landing before the case continued to the upper level in my purple and yellow graduation robe, it all held a memory.
The cream carpet had my feet sinking into its luxurious, sandy depth with each bare foot step I took to the end of the long corridor, passing Mom and Dad’s bedroom, Brittany’s and the home office, alongside two full bathroom suites. Considering each of the bedrooms consisted of an en-suite, it baffled me how many bathrooms one house seemed to need.
When I opened the door at the end of the corridor, I stepped inside to see that nothing had been changed in over eight years. The walls were still painted the same sage green they had been when I was in high school. The queen size bed rested against the back wall with a panoramic window separated into three panels opposite the doorway, just like back in the house I had come to call, ‘The house of no name’.
Strolling over the gray carpet, I scuffed my feet into each velvet fiber as I approached the chaise-lounge at the foot of the bed, the black, wrought iron ends displaying an intricate pattern for the cream cushion adorning it.
The bag, with a deep sigh, was lowered onto the chaise-lounge, and then I undid the zipper. The noise alone stirred happier moments and gave life to recollections of the first night he undid the zipper of my dress, the night my memory flooded back…
That was enough to prompt yet more salty moisture in eyes.
Come on, Kady, you’re stronger than this. You can do this. You did it once, you did it twice, now you can do it again, I gave myself a stern pep-talk as I headed for the en-suite bathroom.
I swore the bathroom alone was larger than Walker’s entire apartment. A vanity unit and mirror was spread across the immediate length of the widest part of the room, a white corner tub with golden faucets, was adjacent to the ridiculously large shower with a glass and gold surrounding. The two fluffy white bath towels were threaded through the railing attached to the glass shower door, while a lilac fluffy robe was unhooked from the door.
Considering the capaciousness of the room, it took a while before the steam from the running shower managed to alter most of the area into a dense, stifling haze. I couldn’t tell you why I was waiting for so long to enter that torrent. I was simply standing before the large white vanity, watching intently as my reflection began to blur with condensation, all the while contemplating the man who held my heart and emotions over four hundred miles away.
What was he doing now? How was he feeling?
I peeled my badass clothing from my body and tossed it into the wicker hamper in the corner of the room, then continued to stare at my body. Lifting my fingers to my lips, I smoothed over the flesh where the remnants of Walker’s saliva remained. I recalled the way his lips pushed and encouraged my own to open up for him, allowing him entry for our tongues to demonstrate exactly how we felt…an erotic dance which I wanted, and was certain, would last a lifetime…
How wrong I was. How many mistakes can a single person make in one life?
Visually scouring over what was left of my body’s reflection through the fog, I memorized every touch, every stroke, every moment of worship…every pain and suffering that he helped me through in a way which I always found was sacred to us…
Tears threatened.
With a painstaking outbreath, I turned on my heel and slid the glass door open before stepping inside and allowing the scalding stream to cleanse me of my tribulations. I lifted my head back, each piercing, stabbing droplet rapidly crashing against my forehead still did nothing to calm me, and before I could stop myself, my own tears were mixing with the cleansing torrent. If only those tears could take the hurt that left a hole in my heart down the drain with them.
Sinking to the white, ceramic flooring, the lower section of the shower partition shielding me with frosted glass, I pulled my knees into my chest and wept. I wept for everything, for what seemed like hours. Friendships, stupidity, regret, blame…love…
Choking on sob after gut-wrenching sob, the faint tapping on the bathroom door went unnoticed. “Sis?” That was one thing I admired about Brittany: yes, she was vivacious and outgoing, lively and most of the time, a royal pain in the ass, but she knew when the time came to be serious. She knew when someone needed her to be honest. I was the shoulder, the rock for her ever since we were children, I think we both knew at that point, that it was her turn, because my rock was an eight hour drive away from me, and my heart was still beating ferociously in his waiting palm.
The sound of her feet following my muffled weeping was barely known. It was only when she slid open the glass partition did I realize how close she truly was. “Oh, Kady…” she muttered, and although she was fully clothed and I was buck naked, she still climbed into that shower with me, and squatting down low, she cradled my naked, wet, heartbroken body against hers. The cooing noises breathed into my wet tresses vexed me. Despite that, I was actually able to physically concentrate on something other than the pain…the emotional pain…the pain which I had come to realize was something I cou
ldn’t manage. I needed physical pain to quell my emotional suffering, but that was the old Kady Jenson. The Kady Jenson who had control stripped away from every aspect of her life.
If I went back down that route, everything which Walker and I had worked towards and began to overcome would have been for nothing and once again, Liam would have won, I would still be a victim. His victim.
“Come on…shhh…it’ll be alright, Sis,” she muttered before pulling her fully clothed, drenched body away from me and lulling my head back slightly with a gentle finger beneath my chin. “Do you want to talk about it? Because you know I’m always here, and unlike Mom and Dad, I won’t be pulling out any shotguns…”
Stifling a giggle was unviable. I simply looked up into darker blue eyes than my own, and shook my head.
“Okay, I’m not going to force you, Kady. But I’m not leaving you here in this mess so…” The oxygen in my lungs was held for more than a few mere moments when I heard her reaching for the small bottle of shampoo. Squirting some in her hand she muttered, “It’s okay, it’s normal shampoo, your hair will remain the same color so you don’t need to worry about cosmic blue or pink hair in the morning,” with a laugh.
With my knees covering my modesty as they rested against my chest, my little sister squatted down behind me and made light work of massaging my scalp. Her long nails grazing delicately across the flesh, tearing a relaxing moan from my throat, something I hadn’t felt in hours.
When she resumed lathering my tresses and unhooked the shower head, I tipped my head further back, allowing her to rinse the suds covering my head. “Why are you doing this, Brittany?”
“Doing what, Sis?”
“Looking after me. I don’t deserve it after everything that happened between us, I just don’t…”
I was shushed immediately before any of my thoughtless words were freed. “You are my sister. I will always be here for you, Kady.”
“But what about…”
“No! I’m not listening to it. I refuse to listen to your excuses. It was that man who was never good enough for you which caused us to be how we were.”
Craning my head to face her when she placed the showerhead back onto the hook once again, she asked, “I want you to be honest with me, do you understand? I may be younger than you, but I can read body language so I suggest you just be upfront. And you don’t need to worry, I won’t tell Mom or Dad.” I waited for what seemed like forever for her to ask this weighted question that was burdening us both, as the torrent continued. “Did Liam ever hit you?”
As soon as that question was aired, the flood came and there was no stopping it. Tears of remorse for my family in cutting them from my life, blame, stupidity for justifying it for so Goddamn long, everything, it just came back like a tidal wave and knocked me clearly off me feet as I was made to accept the situation I was in, all over again. What made it worse was as my baby sister consoled me in her warm, loving arms, I heard her tears being freed into my neck, tears that I never wanted shed. Those tears were for me…ones I didn’t deserve because I was too weak to end it sooner.
The torrent continued to wash over us, neither one of us refusing to let go. I held her tighter than I think I’d ever held her at that moment.
“Is there anything else?” she queried. All I could do was simply shake my head into the crook of her neck. Lying once again. “Okay, well we need to get you out of this shower before you end up looking like Aunt Jackie before the Botox.” My body was set free as she reared up, no longer blocking the heated stream like a wall of ice. “You finish getting showered while I get changed. I’ll be waiting for you out here.”
The truth was, as disgusting as it sounded, I didn’t want a shower. I didn’t want to scrub the remaining touches of my lover’s hands over me, cherishing me. I didn’t want to use the Japanese Orchid spa body wash. I didn’t want any of it because it would erase the scent of him, and I would once again be left wondering whether the precious moments we shared together, were even real.
After some time, I finally conceded and showered. Stepping out of the compartment, I slipped the lilac robe around my soaking wet body and wrapped my hair into a towel on top of my head.
“Feeling better?” the voice laced with utmost concern sounded from the foot of the bed. Her silk sage green pajamas created a camouflage in the décor of the room.
Tightly hugging the robe around my body I shrugged. “My eyes are sore as fuck. I think I’ve finished crying one batch, then another follows.”
“I wish I could understand what you’re going through, Kady. But unless you let me in, as your sister, I can’t help you.”
Diving onto the green, shiny comforter adorning the bed, my sister followed suit. She kneeled next to me and clutched my hands in hers in a form of support. “It’s okay. You can take your time,” she encouraged.
And that’s when the table turned. I was no longer the big, protective sister who would jump on a grenade to save her from the explosion if need be. She was the strong one, the supportive one. In those hours which it took to explain every single tiny detail, regardless how small, because one thing I had come to learn throughout this entire journey is, in an abusive relationship, there is no such thing as a small incident. Every incident counts because next time, it could be worse. A backhand across the face one day, a kick in the ribs the next, forceful hands strangling you another, and before long, the Grim Reaper is standing in the corner waiting to take you away, when the man your heart trusted, has successfully taken your soul, and is a hairsbreadth away from taking your life.
“And Walker…how does Walker fit into all of this?” she asked, puzzled and, in her defense, pissed off. “Has he ever laid a hand on you? Because I swear, Kady, I’ll fucking kill them, no one touches my sister apart from me.”
Feeling awkward, I rubbed the flesh across my brow until it was raw, and under hooded lids, I muttered, “It’s something you wouldn’t understand, Brittany, so there’s no point in…”
“Wouldn’t understand? Are you shitting me, Kady McKay Jenson?” She knew I detested it when she used my full name, but just like Mom and Dad, the use of my full given name was a warning that I would be in trouble had I not told the truth, the whole truth, so help me God. I felt like I was on trial. “Kady, I’m an inch away from being a psychiatrist, don’t tell me I won’t understand…”
“Liam took everything away from me, Brittany,” I crossed my legs, Indian style. “He took my decisions, he took my hopes, he remolded me. Anything I wanted to do, I couldn’t because I was too damn scared of his reaction. So…I…um…” How could I say this?
“Just spit it out.”
Deep breath, Kady, you can do this. You . Can. Do. This.
“I began to self-harm,” to say her jaw dropped was an understatement. She crunched her knuckles while her eyes turned black with hatred. “It was the only way I could find a form of control in my life at the time, and Walker helped me through it. He was always there for me and helped me understand it better. Then Liam had me locked up in the hospital, hence why I missed Nan’s funeral…”
“Wait…”––screwing her eyes tightly in an attempt to take onboard everything spoken, she lifted her hand––“back the fuck up…you didn’t attend Nan’s funeral because he…”
“Another form of control, Britt,” I interrupted. “He sliced his hand open, told them that I’d attacked him. I was fed drugs left, right, and center. It’s a complete mess because…” when I realized which direction this conversation was heading, my words faltered. But Brittany Jenson, being Brittany Jenson, was unrelenting.
“Because of what? Kady, I’m not going to judge you.”
I told her about the pills, how I was forced them and lead to believe everything I was witnessing was all just a part of my delusional state. The tough part was telling her about the news Leviton revealed to me only a few weeks ago…
“Regardless of how many pills were being administered, theoretically, I shouldn’t have had enough to carr
y me over that long…”
Her oval, once lively face plummeted as she shook her head and licked her lips. “I don’t understand…”
“Neither do I. All I know is that, I was in the accident because I was force fed a pill which I should never have had in the first place.”
“But this is Liam we’re talking about. He has money, he has connections. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew someone who had the capability and the sheer nerve of prescribing those drugs for a certain price…” she spat, and it was like a brick wall in front of me. She had a point. Liam couldn’t have done all of it on his own. Walker and Laurie working with Carriag to save up a nest egg for me, Walker and Liv banding forces in the most treacherous way possible…now this…Everyone needs a partner in crime.
“Now I really don’t know who I can and can’t trust…”
“Well, I’m your sister.” She flounced over the bed, hugging me tightly. “You can always trust and count on me.”
I breathed my thanks into the crook of her neck. Noting my yawned dismissal, she said goodnight, then left me alone, closing the door behind her.
A good ten minutes must have passed with me sitting on the bed, simply staring at the cracked brown leather duffle bag resting on the chaise-lounge. Twenty-seven years old, and every possession I owned was stuffed into a bag no bigger than a suitcase. How pathetic was I?
It mocked me with recollections of what that case held for me. My past, which I once again had to rummage through and bring forward into my present, in a hope of a future…
So, with a hefty sigh, I bit the bullet, shunted myself heavily from the center of the bed, and crawled to the base. The first thing withdrawn from inside was my handset.
Crushed and devastated came nowhere near how I felt when I came face to face with no texts messages and no missed calls. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. I didn’t know what to expect. Had there been messages and calls, my heart would have shattered further taking my sanity with it. Bitterness would have balled inside my chest and gut, manifesting until eventually, I would hate him more than I already did for doing what he had done and lied to me in the process.