by A. R. Braun
“Marie always gave me a note saying I was a lesbian who’d get off on seeing the other girls naked, so they let me have a pass. That bitch.” Stacey regarded her ex-teacher intently. “Hey, Lori, don’t cry.”
Lori grabbed a tissue from her purse. “Look at me, blubbering in front of you, and you were the one that went through hell.”
Stacey took her hand and her heart yearned for her, as well as her sex. “It’s all right.”
“No.” Lori shook her head. She pulled her hand away as she set the tissue down. “I knew that foster father of yours was doing something, but I was… scared… to get involved.” She took a deep breath and put her hand over her eyes.
“Look at me.”
Lori looked up.
Stacey said, “At least you did something.”
Lori nodded, then looked away. She met her gaze with her those lovely blue eyes again. “I told you that you could talk to me about anything, both in grade school and in high school. Do you remember that?”
“I remember.”
“You got so quiet near the end of the school day.” Lori furrowed her brow. “Why didn’t you tell me? It would’ve given me the courage to do something earlier. I could’ve reported him to DCFS and stopped all this.”
Now it was time for Stacey to look away. She felt insecure. Stacey sighed, continuing to stare at the table. “He told me… he told me if I told anyone, he’d kill me.”
“Oh, my god.”
“Stacey,” Amanda called from behind her.
Stacey craned her neck. “Huh?” She hadn’t even heard the door open.
“Devon and Sam are fighting over the remote. I could’ve got the nurses and orderlies to break it up, but I thought you’d rather intervene. They’re shouting so loud the whole ward can hear them.”
“Oh heavens.” Stacey looked at Lori, now dabbing her eyes again. “Well. Thank you so much for coming. Please visit me again. And thanks for tipping off Christina about Dick.”
Lori touched Stacey’s arm. “It was the least I could do. But…”
“I’ll see you at the TV room,” Amanda said, and clomped off.
“But what?” Stacey asked, feeling askance.
Now Lori looked at the floor. “I’d rather… stay… uninvolved, now that Dick and his wife are in prison. It’s the only way I can… live with this.”
Wow, that’s lame, is what Stacey thought, but all that came out was “I understand.” She felt a twinge of anger when she thought of how Lori could’ve stopped the nightmare years earlier, now that she was going to abandon her. “You were a great teacher,” she forced out.
They stood. Stacey reached forward, hugged her, then kissed her on the lips.
“What? What are you… ?” Lori wiped her mouth with a tissue, wide-eyed and frowning.
Stacey grinned. “Have a nice life.” She stomped off toward TV room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Spring came, and Stacey and the girls spent a large portion of their days looking out of the windows. The snow had melted. The dead grass showed itself.
The other patients got to go outside to play softball and kickball, but Stacey and her daughters couldn’t, for the press mob still prevailed.
Therese still lay in her coma.
The desolation that plagued Stacey equaled what she’d gone through in the dungeon, and it was no secret how her kids felt about the four walls. They fought and argued more than ever, to the point she wanted to pull her short brown hair out, now streaked with more grays than she could pluck.
Stacey and the kids took a lot of walks through the hallways, but it was starting to become more like pacing.
They wanted out. Now.
Stacey even entertained thoughts of escape. Their patience was wearing out.
<^^>
Kevin sat in his motel room, his new home over the past month. He sipped Scotch whisky and watched the news constantly. The heat vents under the window bonked as if someone was trying to break into his room with a hammer. At night, it still felt cold, like winter in a mausoleum.
Tomorrow, Kevin would be working as a bailiff at Dick’s trial.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
He’d been avoiding the call to the wife and kids. It killed him not to talk to them, but it was over as far as he was concerned.
A report about Dick’s trial came on the screen. Kevin turned up the sound.
“… and the trial starts tomorrow for Richard Alley, the seventy-year-old man who raped his adopted daughter for almost fifteen years. He fathered six children by her, and…”
“You’re going to regret you were born,” Kevin said, stroking the beard he’d let grow. He’d been letting himself go.
I need a haircut and a shave before the trial.
“… didn’t show any mercy to his adopted daughter, Stacey, and her six children, two of which are still recovering from their imprisonment for over a decade, while one lies in a coma from an oxygen deficiency and…”
Kevin sighed and shook his head. “Good god.”
Stacey, I’ve got one last token of my love to give, US of A-style.
His cell phone rang. Kevin sighed, quit pulling on the bottle, and picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Oh god, Kevin,” Darlene said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ve been sick with worry. Where are you?”
Kevin hissed like a snake.
“Look, honey,” she droned on, “I know you’re upset about something, though I don’t understand what. But you can’t just abandon your wife and kids to—”
“Fuck that. I’ve made my decision.”
“But Kevin!”
“Buh-bye.” Kevin turned off his cell phone. “That’ll be enough of that shit.” He shouldn’t have done; it broke his heart. But Darlene wasn’t the woman he loved, and those weren’t the kids he was supposed to have had.
They’ll be better off without me.
The clean-cut newscaster switched to a live feed of Carrie Bridgewater walking down the street with red measuring tape, reporting on how pedophiles weren’t living 500 feet away from schools, parks, and playgrounds as per their parole agreement.
“Wonderful.”
Kevin switched the TV to an old black-and-white movie, watched it for fifteen minutes, then grew bored and ordered a couple of movies from the porno channel. The time to rub one out had come.
One last indulgence.
<^^>
In rape counseling, Stacey bawled. “And when he took me in that dungeon… I… just wanted to die.”
Amanda’s eyes were sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”
Stacey shook her head, grabbing more tissues. “I lost my first love.” She blew her nose. “Kevin.”
“Who’s Kevin?”
“A very handsome boy in high school. Dick kept a tight rein on me, of course.”
“Kept tabs, huh?”
Stacey nodded. “He wouldn’t even leave us alone on our first date. He followed us.”
“Goodness. You didn’t report him?”
“Kevin wanted to confront him.” Stacey snuffled. “But Dick had threatened to kill me if I told anyone and said something about hurting Kevin, too. He was so young and thin. Compared to Dick, I mean, the meaty piece of shit.”
Amanda chewed on her pen while looking Stacey over. “So how did that turn out?”
“It was the most beautiful relationship I’ve ever had in my life, and Dick just cut it off. After two years of being in love. He… chloroformed me… and put me in that dungeon.” Again, she bawled.
“Good god.”
“He… raped me… repeatedly in there.”
Amanda got her a new box of tissues from her drawer. Outside, the sun shined in bright lines through the blinds, highlighting Amanda’s face. The birds chirped, as if there was anything to sing about.
“And how did that make you feel?” Amanda asked.
Stacey looked out the window, wincing from the light.
Amanda said, “Do you want me to dra
w the drapes? Does the light hurt your eyes?”
Stacey shook her head, surreptitiously eyeing Amanda. “It made me feel like trash.” She blew her nose again and became angry. “I hope he gets the death penalty and goes to hell,” she bellowed in a husky voice. “Now I hate men. That’s how I feel.”
Amanda took some notes, then looked up. “You do understand that all men aren’t bad, right?”
Stacey lost the tears and tried her hardest to give her a look that killed. “Now you don’t understand. Dick was a Baptist and a respected businessman. I saw him act like a model citizen. And now, because of the policemen not making those reporter dogs leave, we can’t even go outside.”
“There are policewomen and female reporters out there, too. Don’t you think that some people are good and some are evil, regardless of their sex?”
Stacey banged on the desk and rose. “How could you ever understand?” she yelled.
Amanda sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Okay, that’s enough for today.” She straightened some papers and stood. “I apologize if I came off as defensive, and I’m sorry for what you went through.”
Stacey put her hands on her hips. She harrumphed.
Amanda added, “I was just trying to help you understand that just because one man did this to you—”
“Bullshit. Keep those orderlies away from me or I’ll scream.” Stacey stomped over to the door, turning the knob.
“Oh.” Amanda followed her. “Let me walk you back to the ward.”
Stacey stepped away from the door. “How’s Therese?”
“There’s been no change. I’m sorry.”
A jab of pain rent Stacey’s heart. She looked at the floor.
“I’m going to suggest that the doctor increase you to 300 milligrams of Seroquel,” Amanda added. “It shouldn’t knock you off your feet. If it does, tell her, all right?”
Frowning, Stacey nodded.
“Then when you’re used to that, she’ll up you to 400. She’ll probably keep you on two milligrams of Ativan a day.”
Stacey crossed her arms.
Amanda opened the door, and the sounds of the nurses’ chatter wafted in. “All right, let’s go. Your kids must miss you. Let’s visit their ward.”
Stacey followed her out, not trusting her now. She wished her counselor would go away. Amanda locked the door and walked ahead of her toward the children’s ward.
Stacey marveled at the lack of other patients’ voices. Where are they? She and Amanda walked past the brown couches. At first, Stacey didn’t see her kids. Then she spotted them looking outside.
Stacey and Amanda came up behind them. All five kids watched through the windows that went ceiling to floor as the other patients enjoyed a game of softball with Tim, the activity director, a handsome man with long brown hair and a built physique, though it didn’t do anything for Stacey, who squinting with hate. She stood right behind Sam and Devon. Stacey moved between them and set a hand on the shoulder of each child, forgetting about Amanda. Devon and Sam briefly glanced at her, then continued to watch.
“Therese out of her coma yet?” Devon asked, not looking at her.
Stacey sighed. “I’m afraid not.”
“Why doesn’t god answer our prayers for her?” Sam asked, not looking up, either.
“I don’t know, honey.” Stacey glanced up at the clouds, wondering where the hell he was right now.
Where are you, god? And what’s more important than helping a fourteen-year-old girl get out of a coma?
Stacey wheeled on Amanda. “Why can’t my children go outside?” she almost growled.
Amanda had her hand over her eyes to block the sun. “Stacey, we’ve been over this and over this. The press will mob you and you don’t need that trauma.”
“When the hell are they going to leave? Don’t they ever get the hint?”
Amanda frowned and pointed behind Stacey, who turned around and saw the reporters walking up to the patients and questioning them. Tim got in their faces. He pointed, obviously yelling for them to beat it.
“They’re looking for you,” Amanda said.
Stacey spotted a few of the men and women trying to peer in the window she stood at. Tim got in their way. He looked ready to hit a home run with their heads.
Devon wheeled on Amanda. “I wanna go outside, fucking now! Fuck the reporters!”
“Watch your mouth,” Stacey said, putting a firm hand on her shoulder.
Sam turned around and stepped forward. “Yeah, we’re going stir crazy in here! Let us out!”
Bobbi wept as she walked away from the window. “I wanna play ball, too!”
“Oh baby.” Stacey bent down and hugged her. Bobbi gingerly put her head on her shoulder. Then she glared at Amanda. “I’ve had thoughts of busting out of here.”
Kyra and Louisa cried and hugged Stacey, also.
Amanda put her hand over her mouth. She looked away worriedly, shaking her head.
“What’s wrong now?” Stacey asked. “What have you got to feel sad about, little miss yacht owner?”
Amanda motioned toward the window.
Stacey turned around slowly, looking at the lawn.
A crowd of about a hundred reporters pointed upward. Before long, they were by the front doors, looking up at them, aiming their cameras at the family.
“Miss Alley, what was it like to live in a dungeon for almost fifteen years?” a blond, female reporter yelled. She was young and trim.
“Are you glad Mr. Alley’s in jail?” a chubby, balding reporter yelled. “Are they going to allow you to go to the trial tomorrow?”
Tim came up behind them, waving the bat. “Get the hell away from the building, damn you!”
Hospital staff came pouring out the front door. Police sirens blew.
Amanda walked over and drew the drapes. Devon and Sam looked at Stacey with fear in their eyes, their mouths agape.
Amanda said, “It is what it is, unfortunately.”
Fuck me running and hurdling.
Stacey looked at Devon and Sam. They hugged each other.
“Let’s go watch some TV,” Stacey said. “We’ve got the whole ward to ourselves.”
“TV sucks,” Devon cried.
“I hate TV,” Sam cried.
Kyra and Louisa started hitting each other.
“Girls, you stop it right now!” Stacey released Bobbi.
Bobbi grabbed a pillow from a brown couch and ran over, clubbing Louisa and Kyra with it.
Stacey tore the pillow away, spanking Bobbi’s butt. The child keened up a storm. Devon tried to comfort her while Sam bent down to Kyra and Louisa.
Amanda looked fit to be tied. She stared wide-eyed at them all.
Stacey held her hands over her ears. “Fuck!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kevin was sweating bullets.
As they cross-examined Dick concerning everything he did to Stacey, Kevin watched, waited, loathed him.
The prosecuting attorney, a lean, middle-aged man with glasses, crossed his arms and frowned at Dick. “There’s no possible way you can deny it. The police caught you with the keys to the dungeon. So don’t even try. You imprisoned and raped that girl, and you knew right from wrong.”
The fluorescent lights shined weakly, outdone by the strong vernal sunlight crashing in through the blinds in the windows.
Dick scowled at him. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m sick.”
The prosecuting attorney sighed and shook his head. “Oh, come on, Dick. You’ve never been hospitalized in a mental ward in your life. So you can quit with the ‘I didn’t know what I was doing’ and the ‘I’m sick’ shtick… “
The most intense hatred Kevin had ever felt rose up in him so vehemently he couldn’t even concentrate on what Dick said. No matter. Everyone knew the bastard was guilty. Kevin could barely keep from screaming at him. To lie about it and claim to be insane!
You took the love of my life away from me! My high school sweetheart! And there you are, defe
nding yourself, you Father Nazi.
It wasn’t time yet, so Kevin took a gander at the large crowd that had gathered for the trial. This was huge news, the top story in the papers and on TV for months.
Did he spot Jenna in the audience?
Kevin thought he did. A woman with huge, circular-shaped glasses, looking older and grayer now—the crow’s feet predominant—but still with that smart, strong face; a furrowed full brow; that turned-down frown; thick lips; no tan; and dressed in a business suit. She was crying. Her eyes caught Kevin’s, and she gave him a knowing stare while sobbing that seemed to say goddamn it, you were right, then she looked down at her purse, taking out Kleenex tissues.
If only Stacey was here. I’m sure she’d like to finally get some justice, seeing this scum-bum put away.
Kevin guessed Stacey probably wasn’t doing too well, her eldest daughter, Therese, lying in a coma at Mowquakwa General Hospital.
This guy’s going to pay.
Kevin trembled with rage, seethed with it, as if some kind of an inner demon that heretofore stayed hidden had unearthed himself, ready to unleash his fury on an unsuspecting world.
And Kevin waited.
God fucking damn, can this cross-examination last forever?
The lawyer finished with his barrage of questions. Now it was time for the defense lawyer.
Oh, and what made-up, funky shit has he got? They caught him red-handed. What, aliens made him do it? The motherfucker.
Kevin’s sweat slicked his uniform. Soon he’d be shellacked with it.
Hurry up!
Kevin looked at the defense lawyer. He hated the man’s guts, a younger guy with black hair cut just above the ears and a stocky build, wearing a pin-striped suit like a reverse convict. He asked him a series of questions, and Dick again gave answers that didn’t make sense. After the inquiries finally ended, the defense lawyer looked over the jury and began to make his case.
“Therefore, you can all see that my client doesn’t know right from wrong. He’s mentally ill, unstable, and that’s why he did what he did to his adopted daughter. He needs help, hospitalization, and to be studied, to avoid crimes like this happening in the future.”
“Objection!” the prosecuting attorney said. “He’s leading the defendant. The man was a realtor and a landlord! Hardly somebody on Social Security.”