The Wall (The Woodlands)

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The Wall (The Woodlands) Page 18

by Taylor, Lauren Nicolle


  I kind of wished I could talk to him about it but I couldn’t, not yet anyway. I wanted to explain how she made me feel. She was this force of nature. At any one time, she was a storm, a sun-filled day, a tornado, and I was willingly caught up in her weather. When she laughed, the air around her moved and changed. When she was angry, lightning threatened the sky. She was unpredictable but I liked to think my presence was calming to her. I felt like I provided her with balance.

  We walked up the steps. The door was unlocked and creaked open eerily. I had warned her to keep it locked.

  Pushing it open, Orry’s screaming hit me like a warning.

  I didn’t see her at first—the pulled-over furniture and streaks of blood drawing my focus. But following the tracks of blood to the origin of my son screams, there she was.

  I froze.

  “Oh my God,” Deshi gasped, as he ran towards the tiny, curled-up mass of dark hair and blood. He approached her slowly, kneeling down, blood soaking into his khaki pants.

  I threatened myself to move, but when I saw her lying there, curled around that hammer, she wasn’t moving. I thought she was dead. She looked impossibly small, her hair fanned out around her like someone had creepily arranged it that way. The floor beneath me seemed to rock and shift and my body started to shake. I told myself to move. My head moved from side to side in slow motion. Where was Orry—was he hurt too?

  Thank God for Deshi. Deshi… the guy who got squeamish at the sight of blood, and stood back when I was attacked by that lynx. He saved us both.

  He ran to me and shook my shoulders. My body was rigid and didn’t react to his light attempts. “Joe. Snap out of it. She’s alive. Come here.”

  She was alive. I waited for the feeling of relief but it didn’t come. Deshi went in to Orry, returning with a tightly wrapped, upset but unharmed, baby. “Is he…?” I asked.

  “He’s fine,” Deshi answered but his eyes were dark as tragedy as he looked at my girl. My son was safe. Thank God for that. I knelt down next to her, cupping her shoulder as gently as I could. She looked broken and folded, like the tiniest disruption would make her body collapse. But I knew this wasn’t possible. I had to get on the other side of my panic. “Rosa?” I whispered, my voice sounding breathless. The air in the room felt thin, like we were on top of a mountain.

  She managed a moan but she didn’t open her eyes. I turned her over and tried to stretch her out, which was no mean feat. She was clinging to that hammer like it was part of her and I couldn’t pry it out of her hands. I gently shook her tiny wing of a shoulder. “Rosa, it’s Joseph, can you hear me?”

  She mumbled something. It sounded like, “Not in my home.”

  My heart sank like a lead weight. Whatever happened here, it could have been stopped. I should have been here to stop it. Anger rattled me but I pushed it down. Right now, I needed to help her.

  I scooped her up as gently as I could, noticing that one arm was hanging limply at a strange angle. It was definitely broken. She was also bleeding from her scalp and had several cuts and bruises starting to form over her face.

  Rosa, what happened to you?

  We walked as quickly as we could towards a slowing spinner and jumped on. The bump made her moan again. She was so small, so minute in my arms. I was trying so hard not to let my anger take over but it was pressing into my back like hard hands shoving me forward. I kept thinking, Whoever did this, I don’t care what the reason, I will kill them. I will kill them.

  Deshi touched my shoulder and I flinched, every muscle tensed. It jerked me back to reality. He leaned back like he was afraid of me.

  “Joe, breathe. If you keep holding your breath like that, you’re going to pass out. I can’t carry the three of you on my own.” He smiled weakly but his eyes had no humor in them.

  I lifted her unbroken arm. Her fingers were bleeding; tiny splinters were jammed under her nails like she’d been gripping into the wood for dear life. Her chin was grazed with splinters too. She squeaked and I realized I was holding her too tightly.

  How did this happen? The thoughts running through my head made me feel sick. I relaxed my grip and she slumped back in my arms. I watched her chest rise and fall, too fast, noticing that her shirt buttons were done up all wrong.

  “It’s all right,” Deshi said, trying to calm me down. “I think she’s going to be ok… most of this looks superficial.”

  I stared at him, scared to utter the words I was thinking, “But what if they…” I stared at her torn clothes, grief drying up my words. I couldn’t even say it. Even if she was going to be fine physically, how would she be emotionally?

  “Don’t say it, Joe, don’t even go there. We don’t know what happened. We won’t know until she wakes up and tells us. And she will wake up. She will be ok.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence. I just watched her breathe. I watched the air pass quietly through her beautiful, parted lips and tried to ignore the red splotches of skin that were fast turning purple all over her tiny body.

  Deshi rocked Orry and reached out to stroke Rosa’s hair every now and then. I was wrong about him, his feelings for her ran deeper than I realized.

  Is this what it felt like for you? When you watched me collapse in front of you, did it feel like everything was being stripped away, dreams turning to dust, nothing but grey ash covering the earth? Were you angry? Did you blame me?

  You’re so much stronger than you know.

  She’d been under sedation for a day now. Matthew showed me her scans. Her arm was indeed broken near the wrist but it was a clean break. They set it easily. She had a pretty bad concussion and a hairline fracture in her skull that would heal on its own. The scan also showed a previous break in her jaw that had been repaired with a great deal of skill. Matthew told me it was at least a year old and asked how it happened. When I told him I didn’t know, he looked perplexed and I felt inadequate.

  When they rolled her onto her side, her gown slipped away, revealing one big bruise spreading over her perfect skin like someone had spilled ink on her. It was like someone had picked her up and dropped her from a height. The insides of her elbows were a blackish purple too. He couldn’t tell me if she had been assaulted in any other way. He was not going to do an exam without her permission, and for that she had to wake up.

  Whoever did this was a monster.

  I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with it when she did wake. I wanted to hold her, cover her in kisses but Matthew warned me that if she had been assaulted, she might not want to be close to anyone for a while. That terrified me. And then I felt guilty that I was worried about something so stupid.

  What I felt was powerless. I had all this anger, all this pain, and I didn’t really know where to put it.

  Watching her now, people would say she is so small. Frail even. Not to me. To me, she was a storm brewing and I knew as soon as she opened her beautiful eyes, she would be a thunderous force.

  I just worried and wondered where the lightning strike would be aimed.

  My head felt crackly, sounds were sharp and then descended into buzzing. I kept my eyes closed and tried to focus on one thing at a time. Lifting my arm. It felt heavy and clumsy, not my own. Turning my head. That proved more difficult. I could do it but the pain was intense, like there was something jammed in my skull and when I moved it, the object wiggled and grazed my brain.

  Then the reason why I felt this way came back to me in a giant and solid assault on my memory. Cal. That bastard. Anger filled me from my toes to the top of my aching head, like hot oil boiling in my blood; it sizzled and popped its way up my body until I could no longer keep my eyes shut.

  They pinged open, harsh, white light trying to force them ajar, and the first thing I said was, “I’m going back to get my mother.”

  Joseph’s head was dipped and he had his hands folded across his knees like he had been or was about to be sick. And when I spoke, his eyes lifted. They took my face in, and then my words, so his expression went from relie
f to surprise and then confusion, all in one shutter speeding display. As his face returned to a more calm façade, I could see myself reflected in his eyes. They said more than he could. I looked awful.

  I blinked uncomfortably and ran my hands over my lips. Everything felt dry and alive.

  Joseph took my good arm carefully, the one that wasn’t encased in plaster, and held it between his own. “It is all right. You were attacked. You’re in the hospital now. You’re safe. Orry’s safe.”

  “I know where I am,” I snapped, although the effect was muted, my voice felt like it hadn’t been used in months. “Water, please,” I said more kindly. This couldn’t be easy for him. And I tried hard to remember that but things kept slipping as the knock-knocking in my head started to drown out my thoughts.

  I took a sip, slowly, the water sliding down my throat like paint. Trying not to turn my head, I noted the bag attached to my arm, the circle of empty chairs. I took in the normal, easy-to-process things in an attempt to calm my nerves but it didn’t help. I dragged my elbows up to sit but I was dizzy, weak. Anger was all I could feel because to me, it was like I had been on the floor one minute and was now awake and looking for the culprit.

  I started ranting. Not really making sense to start with.

  “Damn boy, thought he was harmless. I was wrong, Joseph, and then I was waiting for you and I saw him peeking in the window, no that happened before, anyway, I caught him and he got mad. I’m sorry. I tried to talk my way out of it but he was so angry. He was too strong and all I thought about was Orry. I had to protect him. I tried to run but he was too fast…”

  Joseph nodded his head along, grabbing at the words and trying to follow, but he was confused. So was I. I slumped further into my pillow, panting. He smoothed my hair back from my face, careful to avoid the gash in my left temple. “Sh. It’s all right. Who? Who did this to you?” He was trying to sound calm, but I could hear the wound-up fury behind it.

  “Cal,” I said as an admission. Like it was my fault and somehow I should have been able to stop it from happening.

  Everything in him tensed at once. And for a moment, I feared him. Joseph stood suddenly, pushing his chair back and sending it screeching across the linoleum floor. The metal back clanged as it fell to the floor, echoing in the emptiness of the room. He stomped out without looking back, both hands pushing the double doors open with a massive thud.

  I wanted to get up but I couldn’t. I tugged helplessly at my drips and wires but my energy was entirely sapped. I screamed but my voice wouldn’t carry. Where was he going? Did he blame me?

  I could hear yelling. Just Joseph, because whoever he was shouting at was responding quietly.

  “Did you know? Where is he? WHERE IS HE?”

  Oh no.

  Feet shuffled across the floor and I saw my family. They were carrying steaming cups in their hands, looking at me, and then lifting their eyes to the noise behind the doors. They all had different shades of relief and death on their faces.

  “Deshi, stop him. He’s gone after Cal,” I said hoarsely, coughing on the back of my hand.

  Deshi understood but he seemed reluctant to interfere, his dark eyes running over me. I found myself curling up. “If he’s the one that did this to you, then maybe I should let Joseph tear him apart.”

  I searched their eyes. They were all similarly resolved. What did I look like to them? A tiny girl, beaten, unable to fight for herself. That was not me.

  “Addy, Addy. Please. You know this won’t help anything.” She nodded but she didn’t move either.

  I tried to pull myself up again, pulling at my IV. If no one would listen, I would go after him myself. But everything felt wrong. My body wouldn’t respond the way I needed it to. Deshi put his hand over the needle I was trying to scratch out of my elbow joint, looking away when blood welled at the entry point.

  “All right, I’ll go. You’re so stubborn,” he said. But he said it with love. He jogged through the doors and stopped to talk to a nurse, who pointed him down the hall. I prayed he would catch up with Joseph before he found Cal.

  Addy toddled over and pulled a hand-knitted blanket over my legs. I would have kicked it off but I felt so unreasonably cold. She did it lovingly, patting my calf. “You need to rest, dear. Stop getting so worked up.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, lying. I held out my good arm. “Can I have my son please?”

  Apella, who looked like she was a second away from bursting into tears, handed him to me. He cried and threw his head around, looking for food. One handedly, I tried to loosen my gown so I could feed him. Apella put her hand up to stop me.

  “You can’t, Rosa. I’m sorry. The drugs they gave you for the pain means you can’t feed him.”

  My hand fell from my gown like a dead branch, brittle and useless. Something burst inside me. “What?” I whispered. This was unexpected. I thought I would be happy to stop feeding him, but this felt like it was too soon, like I’d been robbed of a bond with him. Or at least robbed of the choice of whether I wanted to stop or not. Apella held up a bottle and it nearly broke my heart. Things had been battle for us from the start. Feeding him had been the first thing that brought us together. Now that was gone. I shook my head sadly. “I can’t,” I whispered. Addy scooped Orry out from beneath my weak arm and Apella passed her the bottle. My heart took a sudden punch as I watched him eagerly take the teat and drink.

  I couldn’t even cry. I flopped down on the bed and regretted the sudden motion. I turned my head and Apella was quick enough to get the bowl under me before I vomited nothing. My stomach was empty. My head was empty too but for the pain and the one sentence that floated around and banged against the inside of my skull. “I want to go back and get my mother,” I said again.

  Apella looked surprised but she covered it with a concerned look. Her hair was pulled back and I noticed her ears were tiny, tiny white shells, perfect and delicate. I focused on that as I watched her small mouth deliver words I would ignore. “Sometimes when someone has a head injury, they can get stuck on one idea. I think you’ll change your mind about going back.”

  I touched my own head, my ears were normal, but dark and and… my hair, where was half my hair? I patted down my head, awkwardly clunking myself with my cast.

  “They shaved it so they could stitch your wound up neatly,” Alexei said, wincing. Sure enough, as I danced my finger lightly over my head, a seam of neat stitches formed a crescent just behind my ear. I let my lips quiver.

  “Oh no,” I said, full of self-pity. “I look like a baseball.”

  Addy mouth twitched. “More like Frankenstein’s monster, dear.” I didn’t know who that was but I could tell the comment was not complimentary. My mouth was already pulled down so I left it there.

  Matthew walked in, a fresh bruise appearing under his right eye. His shirt was un-tucked and some of the buttons were missing. He looked guilty as anything.

  “Where’s Joseph?” I asked

  “He’s calming down in another room. Deshi is with him.”

  “Did he…?” I’m not sure if I wanted to hear that Joseph had beaten Cal to a bloody pulp or not. Matthew shook his head.

  “Rosa, can I talk to you alone, please?” His eyes were creased from sleep; he looked disheveled, like he’d napped sitting in one of those metal chairs. Even if he had slept, it hadn’t helped him. He was a ragdoll version of himself.

  I considered his request. After all the lies I’d been told, the secrets that had been kept from me, I didn’t feel like doing it anymore.

  “No. If you want to tell me something, or ask me something, just do it.” I watched Orry sitting in Addy’s lap. He faced me and smiled that toothless, gummy smile that was more recognition than happiness. Like my face alone was enough for him. I was so glad he didn’t know what was going on right now. He happily played with Addy’s dried-up fingers, turned her rings around, and tried to suck on her pinky.

  “Ok, well, the first thing I need to ask you is what exactly happe
ned? Did Cal… force himself on you?”

  I felt my face going red. But I had asked for this to be a public event. “If you mean did he… rape me? Then no. But the rest of this handiwork,” I drew an imaginary circle around myself in the air, “was Cal.”

  Everyone seemed to collectively sigh with relief. I didn’t say anything else. Because I knew, without a doubt, that if I hadn’t stopped him, he would have. I also knew like someone knows eerily when they are about to fall or drop something that he would have killed me and maybe Orry too. I let my lids fall, closing out the concerned faces, the way they looked at me, waiting to hear the things I couldn’t say. In the darkness, all I could see was his murderous eyes swirling in front of me. I shivered and Addy instinctively pulled the blanket up further over my shaking body. I clenched my teeth, my mouth closed. I told myself to pull it together. Matthew was looking at me with sad eyes, a nervous tremor running through his fingers as he checked my wounds. I heard Apella gasp as he got me to turn around so he could look at the bruises on my back and was thankful I couldn’t see them. When he’d finished, Matthew sat down in the chair and clasped both hands together like he was praying, or trying to muster up some courage to tell us what was on his mind. I kind of wish he hadn’t said a word.

  It would have been easier to hate Cal if I didn’t know the truth. If I didn’t know that he was dying, had lasted longer than he should have, that he wasn’t really himself. All of that. It was information that made me feel something for him and I didn’t want to feel anything. As for Matthew, the way I saw him would be forever changed. Yes, I would much rather not have known.

  This obsession with babies, with perpetuating the human race, it’s stupid. Maybe we should have forsaken it. Lived out our lives and let it end there. We would end there. I’m pretty sure the world would have been better off. But then I think of Orry and I can’t breathe. The conflict I feel teases at the seams that hold me together until I am slowly tearing apart, each stitch popping and breaking. Because if we let it end there, he would be alone. We would all be dead and he would be alone.

 

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