“These are his handiwork,” Seneca said, raising her shirt enough to show a few of the circular scars. Kate’s and Britt’s eyes flared with the same anger Dylan was feeling. “Like I said, I was out of there at fifteen. I didn’t know where to go, and I ended up in California, living on the streets with a group of other homeless kids. We did all right for ourselves most of the time. I was the youngest and not very good at the survival game. One of the older kids looked after me. It was through her that I met Shannon. She charmed us all. I was seventeen when I met her.
“At first, Shannon was wonderful. She was attentive and charming and made me feel taken care of. I had never known anyone who really cared for me, and I was in love with that feeling. I thought at the time that I was in love with her. Now I know that’s not true. Dylan, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.” Seneca leaned in for a quick kiss. “Anyway, the first year was great, then not so much. I didn’t see it, but she was slowly controlling every part of my life. Shannon doesn’t date people; she owns them. If you belong to her, there’s no getting out. I wasn’t allowed friends. I didn’t leave the house much because I was scared of upsetting her. If I did anything wrong, she beat me up. She pushed me through a plate glass window once because I forgot to make the bed. That’s how I ended up with the scar on my back,” Seneca said, looking at Dylan since she was the only one who had seen it.
“Was she, I mean, did she make you…sexually…” Kate didn’t seem able to finish the thought. Dylan agreed. It was too horrible to think of Seneca being treated so horribly.
“No. She lost interest in me in any way except as a possession after about two months.”
“Oh, well that’s good then,” Kate said.
“Why did she have so much power over all of you kids? Was she a lot older?”
“Oh, right,” Seneca said. “I forgot that part. She was also one of the larger drug dealers in the area, so there weren’t many people who were willing to cross her, no matter how much of an ass she was to me or anyone else.”
Dylan didn’t know what to say. The rumors around campus didn’t come close to reflecting this reality. “What did she do to you, baby?”
“She…I was going to…one of the kids from my small troupe was trying to get me away from Shannon. She had seen what she was doing to me, and we were plotting my escape. I guess she was a friend, but I have suspicions that she had ulterior motives. It didn’t matter because I didn’t trust anyone. Anyway, Shannon doesn’t let go of what she owns and she found out. She was really paranoid and very good at finding out information that should have stayed hidden. I came home one day and she was waiting for me. Sitting on the couch so calm.” Seneca stared at the ceiling. She looked like she was going to cry, but no tears fell.
“You want some water, kiddo?” Kate asked. She jumped up and went in search of water. Dylan suspected it was all to give Seneca time to collect her thoughts, or maybe time for Kate to gather hers.
“The nightmares, they’re from that night, right?” Britt asked.
“Yes,” Seneca said, “every one of them. Always the same dream.”
When Kate returned, Seneca started again.
“She was waiting for me and she started yelling. That was when it was worst, when she yelled. Usually, she was totally in control at all times. She stood and shoved me against the wall. She pulled a gun out of her jacket pocket and waved it in my face. I hadn’t ever seen her like that. Her eyes were crazy and she was babbling about loving me and if she couldn’t have me, no one could. Such a cliché. I was scared to death, and so I did what I hadn’t done in our years together, I fought back. I didn’t attack her, but I tried to get away. Before, it was better if I did nothing, because she got tired of beating on me and let me go.”
Seneca took a deep breath, leaned into Dylan’s protective embrace, and kept going. “Next thing I knew, there was a deafening explosion and pain like I had never known. She fired three times; two hit me in the abdomen and the other bullet ripped through my femur and the muscles in my thigh. I would have bled to death, but Shannon had an attack of conscience. She apologized, like she always did, and called nine one one. Then she left me on the floor holding my leg and begging her to go away. She didn’t leave until she heard the ambulance pull into the driveway, then she walked out the back door and was gone.
“They arrested her a few days later. I had had hours of surgery to try to save my leg and fix the problems in my abdomen. There are a lot of organs stuffed in there. I was in the hospital for months while I rehabbed. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I only left to testify at Shannon’s trial. She got in trouble because she talked to me. She was crying and apologizing and said she would find me when she got out and make it up to me. They had to suspend the proceedings for that day and give special instructions to the jury. It was horrible.
“Anyway, I got to Sophia because one of the women who was part of the trial is on the Sophia board of directors. She offered me a scholarship and I wasn’t so stupid that I would turn it down, even though I hated that she gave it to me out of pity. Shannon had been in prison for a few years, and it was time to make a life for myself. When I got to Sophia, I didn’t like to be touched. I was jumpy and didn’t trust anyone. I have nightmares, and I don’t like crowds and loud noises. But you guys know all that.” She squeezed Dylan’s hand and looked at Kate. “And today I got a call that Shannon is being paroled. She doesn’t give up what she owns. She’s coming for me. That’s why I ran. I got scared. I’m still scared.”
Silence filled the room when Seneca finished her story. Dylan didn’t know what to say. She felt sick thinking about Seneca’s life. No wonder she had sprinted away from the phone call that had brought news of Shannon’s release. Dylan could hardly blame her.
Dylan looked at Seneca and saw her struggling with emotions. Her eyes were red, but still no tears fell. Dylan didn’t know how she was keeping it all inside. It couldn’t be healthy to keep that kind of pain bottled so tightly.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. It’s okay to let go,” Dylan whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek tenderly.
Seneca nodded but didn’t look like she agreed. The look of astonishment on her face when she raised her hand and felt the trail of wetness slide over her cheekbone and gather in the corner of her mouth was sort of adorable. She flicked her tongue out and caught the salty drop. As if sensing it was real and feeling truly safe for the first time, she cried. It started as delicate tears streaming down her face, but quickly evolved into desperate, wracking sobs. She clung to Dylan like a life raft as she let it all out.
The ringing of Kate’s cell phone finally interrupted the moment.
“Holy fuck,” Kate said, looking at the caller ID. “I forgot to call Lisa. She’s probably out of her mind.”
Seneca actually laughed and wiped away the last few tears. “Let me talk to her, Kate,” she said reaching for the phone. Kate held it like it might explode and looked relieved to pass it off.
“Hi, Lisa, it’s Seneca. Kate’s fine. I’m the one who’s a mess.” She stood and retreated from the large common room, wandering down the hall of the field house looking for a little more privacy. When Seneca returned, she sat in Dylan’s lap while they all decided what to do next. Everyone agreed they would spend the night being held by the women who loved them, even Britt it seemed had snuck a new girlfriend right under Seneca’s nose, and in the morning they would get together and plot strategy. It scared Dylan when Seneca insisted that Shannon would be coming east as fast as she could, but there was no way in hell she’d let Seneca face it alone. Now that she knew what the demon looked like, or at least what her name was, she and Seneca would be on the lookout together.
*
“Shannon, go away…please leave…I’ll do whatever you want…NO!”
Seneca bolted awake, sitting up in bed, sweat and tears streaming down her face. Her breathing was heavy and labored, and she looked around wildly, panic and pain unlike anything she had ever felt cou
rsing through her. When she saw and felt Dylan next to her, clearly wakened by Seneca’s nightmare but looking tousled and beautiful despite that, the sense of relief was swift and startling. The tears really started flowing when she realized Dylan was okay.
“Oh God, Dylan, I…that dream…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. Instead, she pulled Dylan on top of her and kissed her long and hard.
She yanked the thin cotton shirt over Dylan’s head and tossed it across the room. Dylan was on her back before she could ask Seneca what she was doing. Seneca was just getting started when Dylan shoved her off.
“Seneca, we’re at Kate and Lisa’s house. They’re sleeping fifteen feet away, and after that nightmare, they’re probably not sleeping anymore. Also, you have to talk to me, not just have sex with me, when you’re scared, or sad, or lonely, or happy. You get the idea.”
“For the record, I like my plan better,” Seneca said. She felt like a firecracker about to go off and didn’t know how to release the energy.
“Who wouldn’t?” Dylan asked. “Tell me about your dream.”
Seneca started crying again, remembering pieces of her dream. “Damn it, I cry once and now I’m a fucking faucet.”
“You’re safe here. I’m here and I’ve got your back. She’s not going to get near you. I’m yours now and you’re mine and nobody can take that from us, especially not her.” Dylan spoke softly. “I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart, and if I have to, I’ll fight for what’s mine.”
Seneca believed her. The problem was that in this dream, for the first time, the gun in Shannon’s hand wasn’t aimed at Seneca. It was aimed at Dylan. Seneca didn’t know what she would do if any harm befell Dylan because of her past. Nothing was worth that, not even her own happiness. She lay awake long after Dylan fell back to sleep. She held Dylan’s soft, lovely body against her and tried to memorize every curve.
Her past was now her future. Gone from her mind was the promise of a life with Dylan and Kate’s unwavering love. Shannon was coming for her. She’d tried to find an alternative, a way to keep Dylan without leaving, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have a passport, so leaving the country wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter where she went, though. Shannon would never rest until she found her. And if she found her and Dylan was with her, what Shannon did to her would look like the measured response of a clinically insane person. Shannon was bat-shit crazy with a jealous streak, which wasn’t a good combination. Seneca knew Shannon would see Dylan as having stolen something of hers. Dylan would be a rival to be taken care of, nothing more. Seneca had to keep her safe. She owed her that much.
In two days, Dylan was going on a European trip with her parents for Christmas, and wouldn’t be back until just before the spring semester started. She was safer a continent away, and she wouldn’t know until she returned that Seneca had done what she needed to, and left. The thought broke her heart, and by morning, happiness was barely a memory.
Chapter Twenty-one
Seneca and Kate warmed up as usual for their regular workout. Seneca had been relying on the distractions more and more. Dylan had been with her family for over a week, and Seneca hadn’t told anyone that she and Dylan couldn’t be together any longer. She figured Kate would try to talk her out of it. Besides, she also needed to tell Kate that aside from work, their time together was over as well. She would have stopped seeing Kate completely, to protect her too, but she really needed the money.
She felt like every day she stayed with Kate and Lisa was a twisted game of Russian roulette. She didn’t have much choice. The dorms weren’t open, except for a few students with no other place to go, and willing to pay, those preparing to take classes over break, or athletes staying for sports training, and she couldn’t really take to the streets in New England in the middle of winter. While they still had time together to work out, she needed something from Kate. She was hoping Shannon couldn’t get across the country very quickly.
“Kate, do you think you could teach me to fight?” Seneca asked. She hoped she wouldn’t throw up again.
“You sure that’s a good idea, kiddo?” Kate asked, looking concerned.
“Yes,” Seneca said. “And can you show me how to set up the heavy bag in case I want to come up and practice on my own sometime? You know, in case you’re busy.”
Kate paused and looked quizzically at Seneca but didn’t say anything. She retrieved her gloves and hand wraps and an extra pair of each for Seneca before speaking.
“Have I ever told you about the first time I sparred? It was my first and last time, actually.”
“That bad?” Seneca asked.
“I guess,” Kate said. “I was so worried about getting hurt, or hurting my friend, that I spent the entire three rounds dancing, and ducking, and weaving, and never threw a punch. My friend was so mad at me that she broke my nose after our workout.”
“Why did she do that?” Seneca was shocked. “You were both safe. No one got hurt.”
“Kiddo, we were supposed to be fighting. I was running away. I was wrong.”
Seneca was wary. She probed Kate’s expression, but it was impassive. Could she possibly have figured out Seneca’s intentions?
“Is this one of your hidden, cryptic lessons?”
“I don’t think it’s particularly hidden or cryptic,” Kate said. “In boxing, as in life, I suppose, sometimes you have to let the fight come to you. And sometimes you have to trust your friends enough to let them help you or risk pissing them off. Shall we get started?”
Seneca didn’t know if she should respond to what Kate had said, or how to respond if she did. With Kate, there was no way to tell if all that really was just a boxing lesson. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t change what she needed to do. Sure, maybe you needed to trust your friends. But you also needed to protect them. Wasn’t that part of friendship? They didn’t know what was about to come their way.
She was saved further reflection when Kate started wrapping her hands and helping her into her gloves. The large, heavy red gloves felt awkward and foreign on her hands. They were clunky and huge, but she liked the way they looked, neatly wrapping around the middle of her forearms. The sudden sense of control felt empowering, and she felt like she could breathe a bit easier for the first time in days. She took a few awkward swings and heard Kate groan behind her.
“Am I that bad?” Seneca asked.
“Bad? No, I was groaning because you’re a southpaw and I hate southpaws. You guys are damned hard to box. Take it easy on me these first few times when I’m figuring it out or you’ll pop me in the face.”
“Southpaw? Hey, wait,” Seneca said. “I can’t hit you. I won’t. I’m sorry. I just—”
Seneca started to pull the gloves off, but Kate stopped her, placing both gloved hands on Seneca’s shoulders and looking forcefully into her eyes. “No hitting. Don’t worry. You’ll get to hit the mitts and I’ll be holding them, but no hitting me. I promise.”
“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s go,” Seneca said, feeling much better. She needed to learn how to protect herself. It was well past time.
“All right,” Kate said, standing across from Seneca with the mitts on her hands. “You’re a southpaw, so your right foot is forward. Your right hand is there to protect your face, so keep it up all the time. After you punch, bring your right thumb back to your chin, okay? The left one is like a spring and it pulls your body back into position. Keep your elbows tucked in and we should be ready to go.”
Seneca paid attention and moved into position. She stood with her right foot forward, body sideways, right hand in front of her face, and left hand just under her left cheek.
“Okay, now jab with your right hand and twist your wrist as you punch. Your knuckles should be up and your palm down when you hit the mitts.”
Seneca punched the mitts for the first time and was surprised at the pop that sounded as her glove made contact. She saw Kate grin and found it was infectious. And she didn’t vomit, which was a m
ajor victory. They jabbed a while longer and then added the left-handed straight punch. She combined the punches when Kate requested a “one-two.”
After a few more minutes of practice, Kate showed Seneca the uppercut followed by the hook. Although she liked the punch, the uppercut was the hardest on her damaged leg. It required a lower knee bend to get power, and the added muscle contractions and upward explosions were difficult and painful. She still hit hard, rolling her shoulder and using her long, lean frame to generate speed, but it didn’t come easily. The purpose of all the exercises she and Kate had been doing for the past months came together. Taken out of context, they had seemed a little goofy, but the workout had always been good and Kate enjoyed it, so Seneca didn’t complain. Now she understood how each part was designed to help specific parts of each explosive movement.
The hook, however, was her joy. Although all punches required her legs, the hook’s power and speed was generated through her hips. She knew she had found her punch the first time she tried it. There was something magical about watching her gloved fist travel in front of her eyes and solidly collide with Kate’s mitted hands. The smack of the gloves and the feeling of power were addicting.
Kate taught her a new combination, a one-two-three-four, jab, straight punch, right hook, straight punch. The first time through, Seneca put so much energy and effort into her hook she forgot to throw the second straight punch. After the hook connected, she felt so alive and invigorated she let her hands drop to her sides. They came back up quickly however when Kate made a wide jab at her ear with the mitt. In the past, that would have sent Seneca packing, but somehow she had overcome her instinct to pull away and run, at least from Kate. She knew she would never hurt her. She also felt committed to her task now that she had a taste of it.
“All right, kiddo,” Kate finally said after they had been working for an hour. Both of them were covered in sweat. “I think that’s it for today.”
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