by Diana W
“Sorry for the mess,” she picked up a blanket and a used paper plate from a nearby rug. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I replied honestly. “I completely apologize for showing up here unannounced. I took my chances when I couldn’t find a number for you.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “I got rid of my house phone a few years ago. You can have a seat right there.”
I looked back at the sofa and sat down towards the edge. Miss Theresa sat across me in a worn-down burgundy recliner.
“Miss Theresa, the reason I’m here is to tell you something difficult. I’m not sure exactly how to say it but I feel like you should know.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Ok.”
“Shanice was being... touched,” I swallowed hard. “When she came to stay with you. Your son, Lucas, he-”
“He was sick,” she stopped me. “God rest his soul. He was sick and I made sure that he stopped messing with her.”
“I’m sorry,” I almost choked on my words, “You’re saying you knew about it?”
Miss Theresa sat up. “I wasn’t stupid. She went from coping well with her mother’s passing to running away from home every other week when she made it to high school. At first I didn’t understand it and then-”
“You asked her about it?” I pressed.
“Of course,” she nodded. “It took a few times but eventually she admitted to me what he was doing. What he’d been doing.”
This still wasn’t adding up.
“Well what did you do?” I sat forward, stomach in knots.
She looked away, “I put him out. Told him he couldn’t step foot near this house again.”
“And what about the police?”
“What about them?” She countered.
“You never reported it to anybody,” the truth fell from my lips. How the hell could she keep something of that magnitude to herself?
“Why didn't you say something? Your son became a cop! A cop! Do you know what he was doing to women?”
Miss Theresa’s eyes watered. “Is this your first child?” Her eyes looked towards my stomach.
I covered my hand over my growing bump. “Yes.”
“Then you’ll know soon enough,” she sniffled.
“Know what?’ I asked as my son began kicking almost instinctively.
“How far you’ll go to protect them.”
“That’s bullshit,” I scoffed. “Who was protecting Shanice?” I challenged. “She deserved that protection too. Blood or not.”
Miss Theresa reached for the packet of cigarettes on the arm of the recliner but stopped when she looked down at my stomach.
“Did you know she was pregnant when she was murdered?” I questioned.
Miss Theresa’s eyes connected with mine. The color that faded from her face told me she didn’t know either one of those things.
“Yeah. Apparently, your sick son got her pregnant and then found someone to kill her off because she found out what he was up to,” I continued.
“No, no, no, no,” Her head shook along with her hands. “I’m the one that called it in anonymously.”
“What?” My voice trembled.
“I kept reading about the rapes happening around her school,” she stood up and walked towards the corner onside of the sofa. She pulled out a stack of newspapers, and handed them to me. Shuffling through each one, I realized there were specific stories circled in red. “They were all in Lucas’ district. I knew deep down it was him.”
I pushed back the vile words I wanted to give her. “And you just sat there. Knowing damn well the monster he was.”
“I tried to stop him! I tried to fix all my wrongs,” she grabbed a picture that was lying face down on the coffee table. She stared at it and broke down completely, “My sweet baby!” Her hands fell to her side as she let out a tortuous cry towards the ceiling.
I could now see the little chocolate girl, smiling from ear to ear in the photo. Tears rolled down my cheeks and that’s when I decided that I’d had enough. I stood up and thought about giving her a piece of my mind but from the looks of her and this house, she wasn't far away from losing the little bit of sanity she had left. I stepped out the front door, relinquishing myself from the guilt I'd been carrying all of these years. Shanice was ill-fated long before I even crossed paths with her. It was an ugly truth but still the truth nevertheless.
I approached Elliott.
“What happened?” He held his arms out.
“Everything you could expect,” I said into his embrace. “She knew about him. What he did.”
Elliott didn’t respond right away but tightened his embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I looked up at him. “We’re going to be fine. All of us.”
“I know,” he agreed. “Let’s go home.”
“Let’s.”
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Distorted Perceptions
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Also by Diana W.
The Chance Series:
By Chance
Chance Taken
Chance Given