“I’m glad,” I said with a smile. I was a little surprised when she leaned back over and gave me a kiss.
“Do you mind if I spend the night?” she asked.
I wanted to say no, but I didn’t want to offend her, and I had nowhere to be in the morning. “That’s fine,” I replied.
With her settling in under the covers next to me, I rolled over and realized that I felt just as empty as before. The physical pleasure was over, and I was right back where I’d started, only with a naked woman next to me who would likely make this awkward in the morning.
Sleep had just begun to quiet my mind when my phone rang. Ashley stirred in bed as I got up and found my pants near the bedroom door.
I didn’t know the number, but who would call at one in the morning?
“Hello?” I answered.
“Blake?” came a woman’s voice I recognized, but could not place.
I nodded as if she could see me before saying, “Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Renee, from the club with Roxy - I mean - Rochelle. Blake, she needs you.”
I turned back to the woman in my bed. Ashley’s eyes were still closed, her body mostly exposed to me. Shit. What had I done?
His hand is on my throat. My eyes water as I gasp for air. I grab onto his fingers, trying to loosen his grip. He just squeezes harder. I feel myself fading. Suddenly I hear a noise. Who’s voice is that? I don’t know this woman. I want to scream, save me! I open my mouth to speak but my vocal cords won’t work. The only noise is a gurgling sound. I feel light and limp. I cannot escape this death grip. Daddy’s about to kill me.
I startle awake. My breathing is heavy and sweat is coating my skin. I touch the front of my neck. It’s tender. I try to swallow the dryness in my mouth. My throat is raw. I burst into tears, relieved it was just a dream. Daddy didn’t kill me. I am safe. It was all just a bad dream.
I close my eyes, willing my tears to stop. A noise in the distance alarms me. I sit up quickly and look around. I’m in a hospital? I see my wrist wrapped in gauze. I faintly remember seeing it before. I tiptoe out of bed and go to a door that is cracked open. It’s a bathroom. I go in and look at my reflection to see that my neck is bruised badly. Leaning in closer, I can make out where his fingers were strangling me. Fifteen years ago I left with his handprint on my cheek. This time, I’ll leave with his fingerprints on my neck. I blink my eyes and a lone tear drips from the corner. My father hates me, all because I look like my dead mother.
Exiting the bathroom all I can think is, I need to get out of here. I don’t know where I can go, though. The only money I had is at my father's house. When I sit at the foot of the bed, I see the phone on the floor. Did I call Renee or was that part of the dream? If I did - did I tell her where I am? I bend to pick up the phone. I dial the only number I know - Leather Shots. It just rings and rings. I hang up when I see it’s only five in the morning. They are closed.
I put the phone on the end stand, then walked toward the hallway. Peeking my head out, I see that it is quiet and empty. I could slip out of here and probably nobody would notice. That’s exactly what I should do. I’m never going to be able to pay this bill. Spinning on my heels, I open the cubby to see if my clothes are in there. I frown when they are not. Leaving the hospital in their gown is out of the question. I am defeated once again. The story of my life. What did I do to deserve this shit? I’m not a bad person. I try to do the best I can. I don’t put my nose in people’s business - I keep to myself. My only friend is Renee, so it’s not like I have anyone to treat badly. How do I deserve the shit I’ve been through?
Walking over to the window, I put my hands flat on the glass. The morning sun is barely showing its face. I climb up on the window’s ledge and bring my knees toward my chest, leaning against the cool glass. As I gaze out into the world, everything seems calm and peaceful. The storm finally passed sometime between yesterday morning and now. It’s the opposite of what is going on inside of me, where the storm is never silent or at peace. I walk against the wind on most days, challenging me to be stronger than I am. There are days when I am stronger than the wind, and it doesn’t faze me one bit. Other days, it can feel like a 90 mph wind gust whipping in that knocks me on my ass. I know I cause a lot of my own problems. I often do stupid, careless things like I did the day I went to the thrift store and bought a dress I couldn’t afford. If I hadn’t done that, I would not be here right now. I’d still have a job. I’d probably still be homeless, but at least I’d be making some kind of money.
“You shouldn’t be sitting there,” a nurse says, coming into my room. I don’t look at her, however, I can see her reflection in the window. She’s tall, skinny, and has big brown eyes. I turn my head. Her light purple lipstick brings out her skin tone. She is a beautiful black woman. Randy would love her.
“When can I leave?” My voice is raspy and it hurts to talk.
“I am not sure. Your chart says you are to see a psychiatrist sometime today. You should rest your vocal cords.”
“Why?” I manage to squeak out.
“Sweetie, you've been through a lot. They want to make sure your mental health is good.” I point to my wrist. “Nobody knows for sure. Your father doesn’t remember and his nurse wasn’t in the room.”
I swallow hard. “What if I refuse to see the psychiatrist?”
“I don’t know for sure if they will release you if you don’t.” I turn back to face the window. “Your father was admitted for a psych eval. He is on the fourth floor.”
She says that as if I should care. I don’t care. I never want to see him ever again. “Water?”
“I’ll bring you some ice chips and water. You should really get back into bed. You lost a lot of blood.”
There is no reason for me to respond, I’m not moving. How is it a person can feel as cold and empty as I do? I cannot remember a time in my life when I wasn’t numb inside. I am basically a walking empty shell of a human body. I could die and probably nobody would even notice. My regulars at Leather Shots can replace me. I mean nothing to them, really. Renee might miss me for a day or two, but she has plenty of other friends.
I draw a heart on the window and think of Blake. He is the only person who’s ever made me feel anything. I draw a zigzag line down the center of the heart. He probably wouldn’t even miss me. Soon I’ll be just another girl to him that he took out once. He’ll sit in his country club and find someone new.
The nurse comes back to my room. I narrow my eyes at her when she sets ice chips and water on the tray table. She did that to get me off the windowsill. I only move because my mouth is so dry.
Sitting on the bed, I put some ice chips in my mouth. I think about the nurse telling me my father is here. Why the hell was he not arrested? The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. I take the thin, white blanket off the bed and wrap it around me. For some stupid reason that I cannot explain even to myself, I leave my room to go and search for the only man on this earth who was supposed to love and protect me from all evil.
I find the floor Daddy is on. I can see him through the large glass doors, but I am not allowed to go in. He looks peaceful when sleeping. My hand touches my neck when I see his wrists are handcuffed to the bed. I shouldn’t feel any sadness, but I do. I feel sad that a man I once cherished and was proud to call Daddy is a monster. He was good once. He changed when my mother passed away. His way of grieving was to be angry. Through that anger, I became his punching bag. His words almost hurt me worse. Bitch… slut… whore... white trash... and anything else he could think of. Nothing hurt more than him saying he wished I were never born. He blames me for my mother’s death which I had nothing to do with. I didn’t give her an autoimmune disease. It never once crossed his mind that I lost her, too. I suffered as much as he did.
I glance over my shoulder when I feel the presence of someone standing close by. “He did not mean to hurt you, you know that, right?”
I pull the blanket tighter around me. “No,” I l
ook back at daddy, “he hates me.”
“Child, that is not true.”
I would laugh if it wouldn’t hurt.
“Justin talks about you. He has told me many stories about how he’d take you fishing, camping, and to the amusement park.”
I don’t bother telling her that those were all before my mother’s death. I have no desire to have an argument with someone I do not know. “What happened to my wrist?”
“Justin said you cut yourself.”
“He’s wrong,” I swallow, “he was choking me again.”
“I wouldn't know, I wasn’t there when it happened. I came running when I heard him screaming your name. I came into the kitchen and saw the knife in your hand. There was so much blood.”
I stare at her, praying she can see I didn’t do this. I didn’t cut myself. “I did not do this to myself.” She stares back at me with eyes full of sympathy. Oh, my God, she believes him.
I take off running, I have to get out of here before they lock me up in a psych ward. Nobody is going to believe that I didn’t do this to myself. I push the button for the elevator. It’s taking too long, so I take the stairs, then run until I am outside. I think for a second before I continue to run. I have some money at daddy’s house. I’ll break in if I have to. I am getting the fuck away from here. This time, I’m never coming back.
Feeling like an absolute ass, I woke Ashley and explained that there was an emergency and she needed to go. I was grateful that she could see the concern on my face and knew I wasn’t just dumping her, but when she left me her number, a pang of guilt rattled in my chest because I knew that I had no intention of calling her back. She’d only been a distraction. I hated myself for bringing her home last night. I never used women, but that was exactly what I’d let myself do. No matter how much I knew she wanted it, I felt like scum.
I dropped her at her building and avoided her kiss, opting for a hug instead as we said goodbye. The look she gave me after the hug let me know that she no longer expected a call from me. She still smiled and thanked me for a great night. That helped to ease my guilt some, and I reminded myself that she’d known from her friend, Traci, what to expect from our evening together.
I then had a decision to make. I could drive at light speed to Rochelle and incur at least a dozen tickets on the way, likely losing my license in the process, or I could fork out an absurd amount of money and charter an immediate flight. It wasn’t even a contest. I had my assistant make the reservation as I sped to the airfield. It was a minor miracle that I avoided getting a ticket even on that short drive, given that I was nearly double the limit the entire time, but it seemed that fate was on my side.
Splashing through a remnant puddle from the prior day’s storms as I entered the lot, I jerked to a stop at the curb. I hadn’t been expecting Gail to be there, but my beautiful assistant was waiting for me when I arrived. Gail was in her early fifties, but she was still gorgeous for her age. If she’d been any younger at all, I would have asked her out when she’d started working for me. She had since met another man and remarried; I considered them both friends.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I didn’t think you’d want to leave your car here,” she replied with a smile. “I also knew you’d be woefully unprepared for whatever this adventure is.”
Gail handed me a bag and then leaned forward to give me a hug.
“I might be wrong,” she said, pulling back and looking me right in the eyes, the blue sparkle of her own glimmering in the morning sun, “but if this is for a girl, go get her.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve heard all your voices. I know when money’s on the line, I know when your family is pestering you, but I didn’t recognize your voice this morning. It was more urgent than I’ve ever heard, and the only thing I could imagine was that love was on the line... Is it?”
I could only manage to nod in response. My stomach was roiling with what I could best describe as anxiety. I’d never felt it to this degree before, certainly never over a woman, and I didn’t trust my voice not to waver.
“Then go get her. The jet’s ready and will be in the air the minute you get on board. Call me and tell me if there is anything else I can do. A car will be waiting on the tarmac for you in Salt Lake.”
It was my turn to give Gail a quick hug before handing her my keys and running through the doors straight toward the small terminal where my jet was waiting. Sure enough, they closed the door behind me and we were taxiing before I was even buckled in. I looked through the bag Gail packed me and marveled at how lucky I was to have someone like her in my life. There were two changes of clothes - one casual and one business, some snacks, a book I’d been meaning to read, and a small, carefully wrapped bouquet of flowers. Everything I’d need.
The plane was in the air almost immediately, and my personal attendant asked if I needed a drink.
“Just water, please,” I replied, wishing it could be something far stronger.
I’d been on this exact jet a few times and I know how it flies well enough to know that Gail had indeed asked for urgency. The pilot appeared to have it maxed out and it showed no signs of slowing once we were leveled out.
When the young girl brought back my water she said, “The captain wanted me to tell you that we’ll be landing inside the hour.” The flight was normally about an hour and we’d left at ten past. Fantastic!
I thanked her and took a sip of the water before closing my eyes. The book had been a nice thought, but there wasn’t a chance that I’d be able to focus on it. Instead, I hoped that resting my eyes might help the time pass more quickly. It certainly did; I ended up passing out and waking up again when the plane touched down.
The attendant said something as I was gathering my bag, and I mindlessly thanked her, but my only concern was getting on my way as soon as humanly possible. The sight of a sleek blue Mercedes parked next to the plane made me smile a moment. Gail certainly knew how to treat me well. I tossed my bag in the back, cringing as I remembered the flowers inside, and then climbed into the driver’s seat and punched it. The car wasn’t as sporty as what I normally drove, but it knew how to go like a bat out of hell!
I’d texted the name of the hospital to Gail when I boarded the plane so she could find the street address, and I punched her response into the GPS. It was only fifteen minutes away. Rationally, there was nothing that an extra five minutes was going to change, but I felt compelled to race there; something was telling me that every second mattered.
Cornering too hard into the hospital lot, my back tires jumped the curb and I drew the attention of some passersby. At least it’s a rental. I was looking for the right entrance so I could find a place to park when I saw Rochelle come running out the front door. She looked petrified, and I could see that she was wrapped up in a blanket with her blue gown peeking out the bottom. Not knowing what to think, I swung the car around and pulled up not far from her.
“Rochelle!” I hollered.
She looked confused at the sound of her name, and glanced behind herself as if she expected to find someone pursuing her. When she saw no one there, her eyes darted around the street before she finally focused on me. Instead of looking relieved, the sight of me seemed to intensify her confusion. I gestured wildly, waving her toward me. She stood there for a moment, her head cocked to the side. Just when I feared that she may run again, she walked over to the car, still looking slightly dazed.
“Blake?”
I swung the car door open for her and she got in.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Rochelle leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m better now,” she replied.
I noticed dark bruising on her neck and was filled with rage; someone had hurt her.
“What hap-?” I began asking, but before the final word was even out, she cut me off.
“Please, just go. I need to get out of here.”
&nbs
p; Without a thought as to what we were doing, I pulled away from the curb and left the hospital lot. Rochelle pointed to the west and told me we needed to get to the other side of town. What in the hell was going on?
I didn’t think I could get any more confused than I already was, then Blake showed up out of nowhere as I ran from the hospital’s entrance. I climbed into his fancy car and kissed him on the cheek. He asked if I was okay, and I was at that moment. He was getting me the hell away from that hospital and that was all I cared about. I wasn’t about to be locked up for something I didn’t do to myself. I pointed west and he started driving.
I pull the blanket tighter around me. God, I am afraid to touch anything in this fancy car. I have always known cars like this exist, but I have never known someone rich enough to own one.
“There is a left-hand turn in about a half-mile.” My voice hurts so badly when I talk. I know Blake saw my neck, so at least he knows why I sound the way I do.
His tone is soft when he asks, “Where are we going?”
I don’t answer him because I am ashamed of where I am taking him. My childhood home has been neglected. The white paint is chipping off, the grass is overgrown and a car is rusting in the driveway. Blake and I live in two different worlds. He probably lives in a beautiful condo, and I live… well, nowhere anymore. He drives luxury cars and I don’t even know how to drive. I peek over at him as he follows my direction to my father’s house. Blake may be a rich man, but he isn’t a snob like some are.
I point to the white house. “His house is that one.”
“Who is he?” Something tells me he has already figured out that this is where I grew up, but he asked anyway. He doesn’t need to pretend he knew where I lived without me telling him.
“Daddy’s.” Blake turns into the driveway. He puts the car in park. “I’ll be right back … unless you don’t want to wait for me.”
He twists in his leather seat and reaches a hand up toward my face. I jerk my head away. It wasn’t intentional. I knew Blake would never lay a hand on me. He’s not that type of guy. “Of course I’ll wait for you. I don’t want to overstep, but I can come in if that would help.”
Inside the Storm Page 8