Both doctors had been wrong. This wasn't what she was used to.
Dr. Young occasionally pierced the block Anya had around her.
“Checking for semen …” She felt the cold metal of the speculum being inserted.
“Need a saline swab … ” The nurse handed Dr. Young a small package.
“Pubic hair… sexually transmitted diseases.”
Anya began to hum silently.
“The blood we're taking is for an AIDS test…”
She hummed a little louder as the nurse tapped her arm for a vein. She kept her eyes on the ceiling and imagined that it was heaven.
It seemed like long hours had passed before the doctor finally said, “We're finished. Are you all right?” The doctor helped Anya sit up.
Anya couldn't bring herself to look into the doctor's face, so she simply nodded.
Dr. Young scooted the stool to the edge of the bed and began showing Anya brochures about rape counseling.
Anya shook her head. “I won't be needing that. I'm fine.” She paused. “I'm strong,” she added faintly.
Dr. Young frowned. “Anya, everyone needs help with this.”
Anya was still shaking her head. She wasn't about to sit in a room with ten other women, sharing this experience. That was not the way to handle this. All she needed was God and prayer. She folded her arms in front of her.
“Counseling will help you cope with this trauma and deal with things like flashbacks or feelings of shame …”
“Dr. Young, I'm a Christian,” Anya said, holding her chin high. In her mind, words finally came together to form the question that filled her. Why did God let this happen?
“Anya, I'm a Christian too.”
Anya's face softened in surprise, but she kept her arms folded. “Then you know that I don't need anything but God.”
Dr. Young looked directly at Anya. “There is no doubt God will get you through. But he has provided other vessels to help with healing.”
“I'm sure that counseling is good for some women, but it's not necessary for me. I don't feel ashamed; I know that I didn't do anything wrong.”
“That's true,” Dr. Young said, as she nodded and patted Anya's hand. “But feelings may come up later and counseling prepares you.”
Anya stared at the doctor and said nothing.
Dr. Young sighed. “All right. There is one other thing. Pregnancy—”
Pregnancy! Anya exclaimed to herself. Dr. Young rambled about the chances being minuscule, but there was a pill they advised all victims to take.
She nodded, then interrupted the doctor. “I'd like to see Braxton now.”
The doctor nodded knowingly. “I'll get him.” But before Dr. Young left, she dropped brochures on the bed. “These are for you. Think about it.” She patted Anya's arm.
All energy had been ripped from her and she lay back down. The room had become smaller and Anya prayed that Braxton would come quickly and take her home.
The door squeaked and she turned. Braxton was standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The rims of his eyes were swollen red, and Anya knew he'd been crying.
She forced herself up and he rushed to her. They held each other for long minutes before the tears that had been clogged inside of her were released.
“I am so sorry,” Anya sobbed into Braxton's shoulder.
Braxton shook his head, but kept his arms around her. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry about. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he hadn't protected her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. But the words were choked in his throat. So he held her tightly and hoped that she felt safe.
They held each other until the nurse assisting Dr. Young returned to let them know that she'd delivered Braxton's note to Sasha and David.
Within an hour, Sasha returned with a sweatsuit for Anya. While Anya dressed, Braxton noticed her hand, but said nothing at first. He watched her as she signed the release papers and took medicine from Dr. Young. As they waited for a wheelchair, Braxton took her hand and kissed it.
She smiled.
Then he said softly, “Anya, baby, where's your ring?”
Chapter 30
The pitch-blackness of the middle of the night was beginning to fade by the time Sasha and Braxton led Anya into the house.
“Do you want me to take you upstairs?” Braxton asked, as Anya held onto his neck.
Anya nodded. She was already feeling groggy from the sedatives. Sleep would be a relief. If she could sleep, she could forget.
It was a slow trek up the stairs and, when Anya finally lay in her bed, the clock on her nightstand blinked 4:07. She tried to calculate how much time had passed since this all began. But her eyes closed before she could begin to count the hours.
Braxton covered her with the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Do you want me to stay?” he whispered.
Anya shook her head. “No, go home,” she said, her eyes still closed. “You've been up all night.”
Braxton stroked her arm until her steadied breathing told him she'd fallen asleep. Then, he tiptoed from the room, leaving the door opened to hear any signs of her waking up.
As soon as he got to the bottom of the stairs, Sasha asked, “Did the doctors say that she was going to be all right?”
Braxton squeezed his tight shoulders and sighed. “She'll recover from the beating. It's the rape that I'm worried about.”
Sasha's eyes widened and immediately filled with tears. “She was raped?”
“I thought David told you.”
“No, maybe he didn't know.”
“Well, that's good. The fewer people who know, the better.”
She nodded. “But we have to tell Madear. She'll call Donovan.” Sasha reached for the phone.
Braxton glanced at his watch. “Let's not wake her up. We'll call in a few hours.”
Sasha nodded, then tried to stifle a yawn.
“Go up to bed,” he said.
She shook her head resolutely. “I can't, suppose Anya needs something.”
“I'm going to stay until Anya wakes up.”
With a wide smile, Sasha hugged him. “Anya is lucky to have you.”
He followed Sasha up the stairs and took a blanket from the linen closet, then tiptoed into Anya's room.
He sat on the bed and gently stroked her face. She stirred in her sleep and he paused until she was still again. Even with the scratches and bandages, Anya had never looked more beautiful to him.
“I will take care of you for the rest of my life,” Braxton whispered. “Forever.”
He took her hand and kissed her bare fingers. He'd report the missing ring in the morning, but it really didn't matter to him. He'd buy her one hundred more, if that's what she wanted.
Finally, he stood and rolled the chaise across the carpet so that he had an unobstructed view of her. He pulled the blanket over his body, though he had no intentions of sleeping. He was just going to watch her. Watch her, protect her, and pray for both of them.
In her head, it was completely dark. Anya tried to grasp the air, needing something to hold on to. She tried to lift her legs, but they were bolted to the floor. Scream, she thought. But her lips wouldn't move and she could feel him coming…
Anya's eyes fluttered, then slowly opened. She blinked in confusion. She was in her bedroom, but how did she get here? The last thing she remembered was being in her office—she had to go to the bathroom.
Her eyes followed the soft snoring and she saw Braxton, twisted like a pretzel in the chair that was too small for his frame. What was he doing here? She lifted her head, but felt heavy and bounced back onto the pillows.
“Ouch,” she wheezed. She glanced back at Braxton; his snoring continued.
What time is it? she wondered. Her neck hurt too much to turn toward the clock, but she could tell by the sunlight pouring into the room that it was mid-morning.
“I've got to get to the office,” she said. As she lifted herself, a p
ain shot through her stomach. “Ouch,” she grunted, this time waking Braxton.
He jumped from the chair. “Are you okay?”
Anya pulled her mouth into a smile. “I feel like I've been in a fight with Mike Tyson.” Then she remembered, and her smile disappeared.
“What do you need?”
“Nothing.” She tried to stretch, but her body wouldn't move without pain. “Did you sleep here all night?”
Braxton sat at the edge of the bed. He nodded.
She reached for his hand. “I wish you hadn't done that. It couldn't have been comfortable in that chair.”
Tears burned behind his eyes. “I couldn't leave. I'm just so sorry about—”
“Braxton, there was nothing you could do.”
Braxton lowered his head. He was apologizing for much more than last night, but maybe this wasn't the time. “Nothing bad will ever happen to you again.”
He hugged her, then pulled away when he felt her flinch.
“I think you need to take another pill.”
In the bathroom, he filled a paper cup with water, then gave her two of the small red pills that the doctor said would make her more comfortable.
She grabbed the pills eagerly. Slumber was safer.
Within minutes, she was sleeping again. This time, Braxton lay next to her and gently put his head on her chest.
“Oh, God,” he breathed softly. “How am I ever going to deal with this?”
His dreams had been packed with visions of a facelsss man and what had happened in that office. Now he squeezed his eyes, trying to erase the horrid pictures.
The minutes passed, and he began to feel calmer as his head lifted and fell against Anya's chest. But, he still knew he needed help. It was the only way he'd make it through. He would call Pastor Ford the first chance he got. She would know what to do.
At the sound of the bell, Sasha ran to the door. Madear stood stolidly in place, her purse clutched to her chest. With her chocolate tailored pants suit and silver hair tied back in her trademark bun, she looked like she was just going to spend a leisurely day with friends. But what pulled at Sasha's heart was her grandmother's mournful eyes. Her make-up couldn't hide the swelling of her lower lids, which looked like they had tripled in size.
She hadn't seen Madear since that Sunday dinner, but all of that anger was forgotten. Wordlessly, Sasha pulled her grandmother into her arms.
“Thank you for calling me, baby.” Madear's words were muffled into Sasha's chest.
“Of course, Madear.”
Madear held on to Sasha even after they sat down. “Who would do this to my baby?”
“We don't know anything yet, Madear. The doctors said that the police would be in touch.”
Madear was silent for a moment. “Is she asleep?”
Sasha nodded. “Braxton stayed with her last night.”
“Hey, Madear.” Braxton came down the stairs and all three hugged.
“Has Anya said anything about what happened?” Madear whispered.
He shook his head. “She's been asleep most of the time. The doctor said that she had to get some rest because they weren't sure why she was unconscious when she was first found. They're sure it's not a problem. The doctor said that the body goes into shock to protect itself…” His voice trailed off.
Madear and Sasha nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“You know,” Braxton started, his voice quavering, “I don't think I have it in me to talk… about it.” The image of the faceless man seeped into his mind again. “Though I have to talk to this man.” He pulled a card that Dr. Young had given him. “Detective Bush has been assigned to this case.” Braxton shook his head.
Madear took Braxton's hand. ‘You are not going to go through this by yourself.” Madear's voice was suddenly stronger. “We'll get through this with each other and—” she squeezed their hands—”we'll get through this with God.” Still holding their hands, Madear bowed her head and they followed.
Madear prayed, “Heavenly Father, in this time of distress, we come to you with thanksgiving and praises. We thank you for keeping us, and for keeping Anya, and for being by our sides during this time of need…”
As Madear prayed, Sasha opened her eyes but kept her head lowered. How could Madear turn to God, when He had allowed this to happen? God had let her down in so many ways—with Gordon, Hunter, and now this.
But she wasn't going to say anything to Madear. If her grandmother needed her faith, so be it. But she was beyond God. She would rely on herself, and make sure Anya could rely on her.
As Madear said, “Amen,” Braxton joined in with his own. Sasha raised her head and said nothing.
Sasha closed the door behind Braxton, just as Madear came from the kitchen.
“Braxton went home to get some clothes, and then he's going to stop by the police station.”
Madear nodded and lifted her purse from the couch. “You children don't have any food. I'll pick up a few things.”
Sasha smiled. “I don't think Anya would want you to do that.”
“Okay.” Madear looked at Sasha for only a moment. Then her eyes turned away as she walked along the couch, fluffing the pillows.
Sasha stood with her back against the door, as Madear moved past the couch over to the plants. She inhaled, taking in their fragrance, then began picking at the leaves.
“Madear, do you want me to turn on some music or do you want to go downstairs and watch television?” Sasha was desperate to end the quiet.
“No, baby,” Madear said, as she leaned over the plants. Her back was still toward Sasha.
Sasha tugged at her sweatshirt and took a deep breath. “Madear, I've been meaning to call…”
Madear straightened and stiffened but didn't turn around.
“I wanted to apologize for… when we were at your house …”
When Madear turned around, a tear was already rolling down her cheek. She brushed a stray hair from her face, and with the slowest steps, moved toward her granddaughter.
She placed a soft palm on Sasha's face. “I’m the one who's sorry, baby.”
Sasha shifted from one foot to the other, opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I love you with everything in me.” Madear's eyes were thin slits, but remained pasted on Sasha. “You know that, don't you?”
It was a weak nod. Sasha barely moved, even when Madear put her arm around her neck and hugged her for what seemed like minutes.
“I love you, baby,” Madear repeated.
Sasha trembled as she thought of how long she had wanted to hear those words from her grandmother.
They were still holding each other when they heard the creak of the stairs. They turned around, and Anya was standing at the bottom.
“Hey,” was all she said.
Madear hesitated, then pulled Anya into her arms.
“How're you, baby?” Madear stepped back and tried not to focus on the scratches on her granddaughter's face.
“I'm fine,” she said. Those words were becoming easier to say. She moved toward the couch.
Madear followed, sitting down next to her.
“Are you hungry, Anya?” Sasha asked.
Anya smiled, then grimaced as the cut on her lip felt like it was going to rip open. She held her hand at the side of her face, then looked at Madear and Sasha who were staring at her. “I don't want you guys waiting on me.”
Madear frowned in doubt. “Braxton said the doctors were still wondering why you were unconscious.”
Anya waved her hand in the air. “Dr. Young said that sometimes our brain will shut down—a protective something-or-other.” She stopped, as the morning's sun shadows on the patio caught her eye. She had wondered last night if she would even see this day and she wanted to drop to her knees right there.
“Well, I don't care what you say,” Madear interrupted her thoughts. “I'm going to take care of you.”
“Me too.” Sasha sounded like she was going to cry.
Anya rubbe
d Madear's hands, but inside, she wanted to scream. Asleep, she'd been haunted by hollow dreams, but here with Madear and Sasha, reality made her want to flee. Didn't they understand that she needed to pretend this never happened?
She smiled at Sasha. “So tell me about the Victory Awards. I want to hear every detail.”
Sasha sat back, seeming startled.
“You went to the Victory Awards?” Madear asked. “With who?”
“It's a long story,” Sasha said quickly, before Anya could respond. “I don't want to talk about it now.” She turned back to Anya. “I'm just concerned about you.”
Anya shook her head. No matter how much she wanted to forget, all they wanted was for her to remember.
Madear stood. “I'm gonna run home and get some of that chicken I cooked last night. I don't know why I didn't bring it.” She made a face at Sasha. You stay, she mouthed silently.
Madear kissed Anya's cheek, then hugged Sasha before she went out the door.
The moment Madear was gone, Anya reached for the phone. “I need to call my office.”
Sasha frowned. “David said he'd handle things for the next couple of days.”
“He won't have to do that. I'm going in tomorrow.”
Sasha's frown deepened, but she said nothing, as she listened to Anya talk to Dianna. From her end, she could tell that Dianna was asking Anya how she was feeling. But Anya was abrupt, and within minutes, she hung up the phone.
“That's odd,” Anya said, “The police were in my office this morning and then right after they left, David left. Dianna has no idea where he went.” She paused. “I guess I will go back tomorrow.”
Sasha shrugged. “I think David will have things under control for you. But for now, is there anything you want to do?” Sasha asked.
Anya shook her head. “I'm just going to sit down here for a while. I'm tired of laying down,” she said. I'm tired of the dreams, was what she didn't say.
Sasha almost sucked her teeth when Anya picked up the Bible from the table. She bit her lip, fighting to keep the words to herself There had to be something she could do—get Anya to talk instead of reading that Bible. “Anya, do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
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