When I didn’t answer right away, he added, “Can’t stay away, can you?”
I took a deep breath and shook myself free from his hypnotizing scrutiny. I refused to allow him that power anymore. “I came to set some things straight.”
Damon’s split and cracked lip pulled back over his teeth, and he let out a chuckle before wincing slightly and drawing his arm in to cover his chest. I could tell he was downplaying the pain, most likely not wanting to seem weak to whatever damage was done. “The only record being set straight is in my statement to the cops before they cart off your beloved. You stupid bitch,” he muttered.
That one statement was all I needed as fuel to my already building fire. I took one determined step.
Damon’s eyes narrowed, the cut through his eyebrow slanting. “I wouldn’t come any closer, or I’ll put your ass right next to your boyfriend’s in jail.”
My knuckles turned white with restraint, my blood heating as it swooshed to my head. There was no shot in hell I would ever let him damage Blake’s reputation or drag his name through the mud. I leaned forward over the slab of plastic at the edge of the bed, lowering my voice and leveling my eyes. “You listen to me, you sick motherfucker. It’s over. The only one going to jail is you. Statements have already been given. Blake acted in self-defense after you attacked him.”
Putting on a show, I covered my chest with my hand. “You nearly killed me and then came at him with the neck of a broken beer bottle. Thankfully, he was able to get the upper hand and take you down.” I smiled, triumphant, my chest puffing in satisfaction, and cupped the side of my mouth mockingly with a whisper, “There’s a house full of witnesses that saw the whole thing.”
Red climbed up his neck, speeding in patchy vines before splattering onto his cheeks. “You little . . .”
Aw, I struck a nerve.
“You didn’t think I’d leave it to chance that we’d be caught, did you?” I threw his words back at him. A smirk peppered my face as I watched the recognition wash over his.
Seeing the person who’d violated me for so much of my life, essentially cutting off my mobility, now immobilized and strapped to the bed, I realized that I finally had the control and there was nothing he could do about it. This awareness sent a giddy rush through me.
But before I could get too excited, the red began to recede from his cheeks. “Where’s Abby?”
The irony of him asking the one question I had always asked him wasn’t lost on me. I felt the blood drain from my face and visibly stiffened, while he relaxed into his hospital grade pillow.
“You forgot that one important piece there, beautiful. Abby’s never going to go along with that.” A disgusting smile slithered across his face. Abby’s name on his lips sending a roll through my stomach.
“Those little blue pills I slip her every now and then work like a charm. Always have.”
A chill broke a sweat down the back of my neck. “Stay the hell away from Abby. She’s through with you.”
Damon scrubbed two fingers along his jaw, cradling his chin. “Did she tell you that? Because as of right now, it seems you don’t even know where she is, and . . . you see, as far as I can remember, that pretty, naïve little sister of yours believes every word I say.” He smirked again, self-assured and cocky. “Am I wrong—beautiful?” He accentuated his pet name for me, rolling the L off his tongue. “She’s never going to believe you. When are you going to realize that? Or maybe you don’t care anymore that your sister knows I fucked your brains out your whole life. That you learned on me. I’d hardly call that rape. I did you a favor.”
His smile this time was deliberate, and the gleam in his eye unmistakable as he took what he believed to be a victory. “You’re fucked. Once again. Seems I’m always fucking you now, doesn’t it? Only this time, I don’t even have to touch you to do it.”
“You fucking bastard.” The familiar voice drained the blood from my face as I spun to find Abby in the doorway. She looked wrecked, her eyes watery and wild, her skin blotchy. “How could you?” she asked quietly, as though she was still unsure. Then her regard of the situation seemed to solidify as she added more forcefully, “How could you! I gave you everything—waited for you!”
Waited for you?
My gaze swung to Damon, whose eyes were now popped out of his head as he made every feeble attempt to sit up straighter. “Baby . . .”
“Don’t you fucking baby me,” she threw back. “How many years did I hold myself back waiting for you—waiting until we were married? You agreed! You wanted that, too!” she screamed.
I stumbled back, her words slapping me into the hard plastic footboard.
No . . .
“What?” The word fell from my lips in a whisper—a faint attempt at speaking through an incoherent fog as another piece of this warped reality floated into place.
“You . . . you’re a . . .” I couldn’t bear to say the word.
She crossed her arms over her chest as though she was sheltering it. “A virgin? Yes.” Her eyes barely flicked to mine. In that brief second, though, the struggle behind them spoke. The betrayal she felt toward me warring with wanting to comfort her sister—the rape victim.
“She came on to me!” Damon yelled, a hoax of desperation swimming in his deceitful eyes as he drew another card from his stack.
“How could you do it?” She advanced toward him. “All those years you made me wait—led me to believe we would share something special together, something sacred. And all the while you were . . .” Abby swallowed down tears, then she lifted a shaky pointer finger at him. “Never come near me again.” She lifted her chin and side-stepped to me, sliding her palm into mine. “Us again.”
I looked down to our interlocked fingers and then up to the firm set of her jaw. Tears threatened to pour over her lower lids. Even though she was trying so desperately to hold them at bay, I could practically feel them searing her throat as she made her declaration.
Damon locked his eyes on her. “This ain’t over. We aren’t over,” he promised, the determination in his eyes reaching out across the room to cage her to her place. Let her know he wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.
Abby opened her mouth to respond when a sharp tapping bounced off the frame of the door. “Mr. Bradshaw . . .” A clattering followed Damon’s name, and Abby and I turned to find two police officers crossing the threshold. My heart raced at the sight of them, likely here to take his statement. I wondered what he would say.
At their approach, Abby and I stumbled aside in unison.
“Ms. Ricci?” The first officer to enter the room addressed me.
How does he know my name?
“Y—Yes?” I stuttered out.
“If you plan on pursuing a restraining order, you should probably leave,” he stated plainly.
My eyebrows drew in. I couldn’t answer as my sights drifted from them to Damon and back again, the officer’s words not making any sense.
Abby tugged at my arm as Damon straightened. “Restraining order? I’m the one who needs the fucking restraining order!”
More backward steps as Abby led us from the room. When my heel stumbled over the threshold, the second officer freed the clasp holding the door open. My line of sight into the room diminished on the soft swish of the door as the first officer drew his handcuffs.
“Mr. Bradshaw, you’re under arrest for the assault and sexual abuse of Evangelina Ricci and the assault of Blake Turner. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
The window of sight diminished.
The door clicked into place.
THE BREEZE FROM the closing door settled like a blanket over my soul, concluding the longest chapter of my life. Damon’s protests lashed like muffled whips, but all I could do was stare at the grains in the wooden slab, my mouth hanging open.
What just happened?
“I don’t know,” Abby’s response broke my time-suspension, and my eyes floated to hers. I hadn’t known I’d said that out loud. Her palm grew
sweaty—or maybe it was mine, I couldn’t tell. Our hands just rested inside one another, neither posing a firm grip, but both lending all the support in the world.
Words traveled between our gazes the way only sisters could communicate—broken hearts and unspoken promises, scattered dreams and star-aligned futures. Her fingers twitched around mine, and I squeezed in response.
“I’m sorry,” she finally stated. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. You tried . . .” Her lip trembled, and she looked to the floor briefly before looking back to me with glassy eyes. “You tried to tell me, and I wouldn’t listen.” She broke her hand free of mine then and covered her face, sobbing into her hands. “Why didn’t I listen?”
I quickly blanketed her back with support. “Shh . . . don’t cry. I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should have—”
“Don’t! Just . . . don’t.” Abby sniffled. “Don’t start blaming yourself.” She peeked up at me. “I was mad at first. Hurt. But then it hit me.” Her eyes solidified on mine. “I know you.” She offered a small smile before squaring her shoulders and adding as more of a statement, “I know you. Even if I don’t know the whole story yet, I know it wasn’t you. So, please.” She slipped her hand back into mine. “Please don’t say you’re sorry.”
My gaze fell to our joined hands. To the support my sister was lending me when she herself was breaking into her own pieces. I yanked her to my chest in an embrace, squeezing so tight, trying to hold her together before she could crack into too many fragments, feeling us finally come together after so many years apart. Knowing that, after this—after we healed, after we forgave—we would be all right.
My tears soaked into the crown of her head, hers into the front of my shirt, and we rocked in unison—just like our mama used to do. One rhythm for two girls until my pain became hers, hers becoming mine, our joint heartbreak and heart-healing mingling in a tightly wound bond that we would carry around forever.
THE LAST CT scan showed that all of the blood had receded from my brain, so the doctors were releasing me tonight. “Can’t say I’ll miss this place.” Packing my belongings, I grabbed my birth control, solemnness washing over me before I hobbled out of the bathroom. The feel of the little round cylinder brought a topic to mind that needed to be addressed. My sights landed on my sister, who was folding a shirt on my bed. I flipped the canister over and back again as I slid onto the bed in front of her. Her gaze moved to my hand before traveling to my eyes.
“He told me . . .” I inhaled a shaky breath. "He told me everyone practiced on each other. Friends. Said that you guys did, too.” A short, condescending laugh escaped my lips. “Obviously, that was another lie.”
Abby took a long swallow. Behind her eyes, I could see her mind reeling as she twisted the shirt in her grasp. “Yes, obviously.” Her grip slackened, and she dropped the shirt into her lap. “I just don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid. So blind.”
She needed to know the rest of the truth. “He said . . .” My heart tripped in my chest. “The other day he admitted he would slip you something.”
Her mouth dropped open as the reality of those words sunk in.
“You would always fall asleep. All the time, but I thought you just liked to nap.” Tears welled in my eyes that my sister had fallen victim to Damon as well, in a different capacity. “He said he made sure we wouldn’t be caught. So, you see, it wasn’t your fault, Abby.”
“Oh my God.” Abby’s words floated on a confused, dazed whisper, her eyelashes fluttering through the onslaught of tears at this new piece of knowledge. It broke my heart to know what this was doing to her. “He said he’d never hurt me. That he’d take care of me forever. And I believed him.” Her voice cracked. “He was hurting me the whole time and I didn’t even know it.”
She straightened. “What made me stupid enough to believe he was actually waiting for me?” She practically snarled, her nose red and shiny with restraint. “And the whole thing was his idea! One hundred times I would’ve given in, but he was all,” she deepened her voice with a disgusted curl to her lip, “it’s going to be so special. Meanwhile, it was because . . .” She threw her arms out toward me, her words lingering as she caught herself. Abby swallowed hard, her eyes glassed over, a sheen which mirrored itself in mine as my breath caught in my throat.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s okay. It all makes sense now. I’m actually glad . . .” I paused, gathering the right words. “I’m glad he never got to taint you that way. It helps.” The corner of my mouth raised in a half-smile.
“Oh, Eva.” Abby threw herself onto me, wrapping me in an embrace while sobbing into my shoulder. Instead of shushing her or reiterating reassurances, I let my heartbreak seep into her as well, our tears a hurtful river necessary to carry the sorrow away from us and wash us clean of his filth and betrayal.
When we broke free of our embrace, we were each a mess of tears. We washed our faces, the soap and water spiraling down the drain, taking it all away. In the middle of a hospital bathroom, I felt the cleanest I had ever felt as I shut off the water. My soul felt cleansed. I was so used to feeling dirty inside all the time that it felt like I was walking on air, free of the gunk that usually bogged me down as I exited the bathroom. Abby had gone back to the task of folding clothes, while I juggled what remained of my toiletries in both of my hands.
“Talk to Mom and Dad?” I asked her.
“Yeah. They’re still by Blake’s helping his dad get a handle on stuff.”
Blake’s voice drifted in behind me. “Did you ever imagine you’d see the day your parents and mine were hobnobbing?”
A warmth swarmed my chest, a smile spreading as I looked over my shoulder to find him. Comfort always surrounded me the moment he was around. “Not any time soon, at least.”
The look of Blake, so strong and powerful sauntering into my room, stopped my heart. He must have cleaned himself up at home because he was sporting a fresh shave, his hair slicked back and away from his face. Dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a black thermal with the sleeves pushed mid-way up his forearms, I wanted to lunge at him. And I might have if every muscle in my body wasn’t screaming at me in protest.
“You look delicious.” My sights drifted over his chiseled features to the plump lip that was drawing up into a smirk.
“Why thank you,” a second voice responded, a familiar face moving in behind Blake to perch on his shoulder. Eric smiled his boyishly triumphant smile, the way he always did after one of his sarcastic chides.
“Wrong sister,” I responded, moving into Blake’s side and sliding my hand onto his chest.
Abby’s eyes, which had been devoid of any signs of life for the entire afternoon, now sparked as she rose to her feet in an almost dreamlike state.
“That’s the one I wanted anyway.” Eric licked his lips and stood up straighter as his heady eyes locked on Abby before being replaced with a solemn expression. “You good?”
With a tight nod, and a blush to her cheeks, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I will be.”
A smile crawled across Eric’s face as he seemed to take her word. He moved to her side and lifted a pair of pants. “Can I help?”
Longing replaced the heartache in Abby’s eyes as she nodded, and the biggest smile broke out across my face watching their exchange.
A warmth coated my heart seeing all of the parts of this warped story finally find their closure. I was confident that, in time, my family would heal from all of this and move forward even more solid than we were before. That the scabs on our hearts would eventually dry up and fall off, and in their wake only but a sliver of silvery-shine would remain as a reminder. The tiniest of scars reminding us of the silver lining that lay in the darkness. Of the strength that love holds in the face of evil. That when all seems hopeless and lost, there is always a possibility of a second chance. Much like the silver star that rests at the heart of the dainty, sky blue forget-me-nots—a token I would have from year to year
, each time they got their second chance. I recalled Audrey Hepburn’s quote at the bottom of the flower box Blake had given me, its purpose never holding as much meaning as it did at this moment.
“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”
My eyes slid up to Blake, to my second chance, who was already watching me closely. Then I glanced down to watch his smiling mouth descend to blanket mine, taking me away in a sweet, intoxicating kiss. And as he slipped another little piece of himself inside my heart’s pocket, I was sure I had my answer to the question I asked myself so long ago when I first fell in love with him. That his heart did, in fact, have pockets as well. And as he collected another of my heartbeats, my soul sang a new song—this one the most memorable yet. Of love and life and living. Of freedom and security and breathing.
We’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay.
~ And in the end, the Angels rain down their blessings.
Heaven
I gasp
Air rushes in, sweeping away the fog
And I can finally breathe air that doesn’t feel like smog
The murky night is washed away by the day’s light
Eyes wide open—a cleansing, freeing breeze rescues me from my plight
Piece by piece, I float with purpose
As they come together, all of the answers surface
Pieces of me that make up one whole
Pieces of me that finally have a soul
The pieces fix the broken, supply stability to the weak
Scrambling through the darkness, only one face do they seek
To live him is to breathe him
Soaked beneath my skin
Now that I’ve let him inside
I feel him swimming from within
The light is different on this side
Looking past the shades of gray
Staring toward a future
Breathe You Page 39