Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  “Yeah, well, suck it up,” she shot back, giving me a glimpse of the fire I’d missed for longer than I cared to recall. “I wanted to surprise you, so I did.”

  Charlotte chuckled as Faye stuck her tongue out at me, forcing fresh tears, ones of happiness, to spring to my eyes. I loved seeing her so playful and carefree.

  Not to mention, employed.

  I still couldn’t believe she and I both had jobs, especially since neither of our new occupations involved vicious puppets, seedy motels, or stolen dinero to pay off a sadistic pimp.

  While half of me would remain planted in disbelief for quite some time, the other half wanted to jump and shout at the unexpected direction our lives had taken.

  Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for all the years I’d spent working at High Tide, a job that had put a roof over Jade and I’s heads, along with food in our bellies and clothing on our backs.

  But this was different.

  Faye and I were together again.

  And close—so close—to being whole.

  “Charlotte, I...” Turning my attention back to my boss, I fisted my hands, digging my painted nails into my palms, and inhaled. “Thank you. For me, for Faye, for Amelia. Well, for everything.”

  Rubbing her soft hand up and down my upper arm in comforting strokes, she nodded. “Of course. Around here, we’re all family. And this is what family does. We take care of each other. Now,” she continued, not giving me the chance to respond. “Are you ready to get started?”

  I nodded, teetering on the edge of emotional overload. “Si, I am.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” She turned and bumped her shoulder against mine. “Let’s do this, darling.” Glowing smile fixed in place, she then headed down the hall toward Faye and Amelia both, each of her steps as graceful as she.

  Without hesitating, I quickly followed.

  Time passed in the blink of an eye.

  Between learning the ins and outs of the shelter, meeting some of the residents, all of whom I’d fallen head over heels in love with, and doing some routine clerical work, I’d stayed busy for the first seven hours of my shift with whatever task, big or small, that I’d been given.

  After choosing to skip lunch, the only breaks I’d taken were seconds long as I replied to the handful of texts I’d received from both James and my chicas. And that was okay with me. The faster time flew, the closer I was to seeing Guapo.

  Without him, my heart ached.

  Literally.

  Maybe it made me obsessed, but it felt alien not to be at his side where I could reach for his hand or press my lips to his, stealing the comfort I yearned for and the security he always gave.

  I didn’t enjoy being away from him.

  Not for one second. Much less an entire day.

  Maybe I should become a firewoman. Then—

  “Hey, Mama C.”

  Startled, I jerked in place, nearly coming out of my skin, when Shelby stuck her head into the storage room where I was lost in thoughts of James, who consumed me, both heart and soul, mind too, while organizing a box of old incident reports for Charlotte.

  “Shit, sorry. I should’ve knocked before popping in,” Shelby apologized, gnawing her bottom lip. “Didn’t mean to rattle you, sugar.”

  Hand on my chest, I exhaled shakily.

  “It’s okay.” I swallowed, knowing that a simple knock would’ve made no difference. Lost in thought, I would’ve been startled either way. “I’m just a bit jumpy.” Forcing a smile, I met her stare. “Too much caffeine, I think.”

  Though she nodded and didn’t push the subject, I could tell from the expression on her beautiful face that Shelby didn’t believe a word I spoke. She knew being back in Toluca was a struggle for me.

  One I was hell-bent on conquering.

  I just need a little more time.

  “Probably a good time to switch to water then.” She grinned, the silent gesture a promise that she wouldn’t ask for more details, and the slight shake in my hands ceased. “I was coming to ask...” She paused, her assessing gaze searching my face. “Do you mind heading to the office for a few minutes? Charlotte’s gotta step out with Hope and Carissa for a bit, and Maddie, Heidi, and Wendy are busy with two new intakes, so we need you to answer the phone until it’s time for shift-change.”

  I felt, rather than saw, my face pale.

  “Don’t panic, Ma,” she added, reading my obvious distress and calling me by the moniker Hendrix had given me.

  It went a long way in stopping me from getting all worked up. Why such a menial task made me nervous to begin with, I didn’t know. Though I suspected it had a lot to do with my broadening fear of failure.

  If I screw this up...

  “One, it doesn’t ring all that much this time of day,” she continued, doing her best to put me at ease. “Two, I’ll be right there with you. I just have to finish these stupid expense forms I’m knee-deep in before I leave. Else the boss lady may tan my hide.”

  That got my back up. Fast. Employee or not, Shelby was mi hija. Mine and James’. There would be no tanning of her hide.

  Not by Charlotte or anyone else.

  Growing more flustered by the second and needing to quell the tumultuous emotions washing over me in order to do what needed to be done, I recalled James’ words from the morning, as well as the promise I’d made to remember who I was.

  I could do this.

  I was strong and capable and fearless.

  Just like he’d said.

  Latching onto the belief that he had in me, along with my determination to put the past—my looming fear and trepidation included—behind me, I stood taller, lips tilting up.

  “Lead the way, mija.”

  Holding out her hand for me to take, Shelby waited for me to press my palm to hers and interlace our fingers, which I did a second later, without hesitation.

  Then, together, we headed for the office.

  I’d just sat down when the phone rang.

  Not the one belonging to the shelter, but my cell, which I held in my hand, the screen flashing with a picture I’d taken of a sleeping James the night he’d first made love to me.

  My heart fluttered, the warmth I’d felt with his powerful arms wrapped around my waist, his face resting against my bare belly, and exposed scars, returning tenfold.

  Guapo was such a beautiful man. He had been since we met, both inside and out. But it was the peace reflected upon his face the moment I’d covertly snapped the picture that had stolen my breath.

  It was peace he’d found with me.

  And that I was determined he’d keep.

  Needing to hear his deep baritone, I tapped the green icon dancing across the screen and pressed the phone to my ear. Before I could so much as mutter a soft hello, his smooth voice greeted me.

  “Seven hours and twenty-four minutes,” he whispered, giving rise to the chill bumps that broke out along my tingling skin. “That’s how long it’s been since I last saw you, baby.” Something creaked, his office chair maybe, in the background. “And I don’t like it.” A beat passed. “I don’t like it one bit.”

  Teeth sinking into my bottom lip, I palmed my lower stomach, where butterflies danced. “I don’t like it either.” I glanced at the black and white clock that hung on the shelter’s wall opposite me, watching as the seconds ticked away mind-numbingly slow. “But I get off in thirty-six minutes, and then I’ll be headed straight to you.”

  He inhaled sharply. “You better be.”

  Across the room, from where she sat on a faded plaid sofa, surrounded by manilla folders and clutching an iPad in her hand, Shelby rolled her eyes as she fought back what I knew was a cheek-splitting grin.

  “Frickin’ love birds,” she mumbled before shaking her head and dropping her gaze back to her lap, where a legal pad rested on her thigh. “Might as well weld your hips together.”

  Picking up a cinnamon-flavored candy from the clear bowl sitting on the edge of Charlotte’s desk, I threw it in her d
irection, striking her in the chest.

  Jerking her head up, she glared at me.

  “Well, shit, Ma, if you think my breath stinks, then just tell me. There’s no need to be throwing the boss lady’s candy at me,” she joked as she dropped the iPad and picked up the red disc before unwrapping it and popping it in her smart, not to mention dramatic, mouth. “For heaven’s sake, you could’ve taken my eye out!”

  Ignoring our fussing daughter in the background—did he even hear her?—Guapo spoke once more, stealing my attention, just as he always did.

  “I want you to stay here tonight,” he said, taking me by surprise. “Don’t like the idea of you being at home all alone, sleeping without me.” Apparently, there were a couple of things he didn’t like today. “Matter of fact, I damn well can’t stand it. So either you stay here at the station, in my bunk, or I’m retiring—”

  “I’ll stay,” I interjected, jumping at the opportunity to spend more time with him and quelling the desperation-driven theatrics he was about to showcase. “As long as you promise to sleep with me.”

  With an exhale, his tension abated.

  “If I’m not out on a call, then I’ll be with you.” His voice quieted, morphing back into a whisper. “Always.”

  I sighed, my body aching to be wrapped in his arms, where I’d be at home. “Then si, once our shift ends and Maddie can get me there, I’ll be at your side.”

  Thanks to Anthony, the snitch, telling James what an awful driver I was days before, Guapo had taken ownership of my keys, earmarking my car for Little One.

  Though it left me an anxiety-riddled mess to think of her out there on the road all alone, once Hendrix gave her the driving lessons he’d promised, and she passed the state driver’s test, my beloved Kia would be all Jade’s.

  As for me, James had taken it upon himself to ensure someone, whether it was him or another, chauffeured me everywhere I went.

  I didn’t mind since I hated driving with a fiery passion, plus a few of the ladies carpooled to and from work daily anyway, so it truly was no big deal.

  But the lack of a vehicle in times like this, when all I wanted to do was run out the door and straight to him the minute I punched out, grated on me.

  I couldn’t complain too much, however.

  Not when he only wanted to keep me safe.

  “You better be,” he started, recapturing my attention. “If not, I’m getting in my truck and—”

  The words he spoke next were drowned out when the shelter’s phone rang. Throat tightening, I eyed it with dread. “Guapo, I have to go. I need to answer—”

  “Don’t be scared, Pixie, because like I told you this morning, you are precisely where you’re meant to be,” he cut in, picking up on the apprehension and smidgen of fear lining my voice. “And if you want, I’ll stay on the line with you for as long as you need me to. Just answer the call.”

  His words soothed the anxiety fighting to wind around my vocal cords, and without replying to him, I lifted the black desk phone with my free hand.

  I can do this, I told myself as I pressed the speaker against my right ear while still holding my cell to the other. I am strong and capable and fearless. I licked my dry lower lip. I won’t screw this up.

  “Toluca Battered Women’s Shelter,” I said, latching onto the embers of resilience that flickered deep in my chest, close to bursting into a raging wildfire. “This is Carmen.”

  Carmen, not Camilla.

  Thanks to my new circumstances, I’d never have to be Camilla again. Not anywhere except on paper, at least. And for that, I was thankful. Because the girl I’d once been, who should’ve been dead, but had survived despite the odds, deserved to continue living.

  And I’m going to make sure—

  A feminine-sounding sniffle, one that sounded like it may belong to a mere child, floated through the phone, shattering my inner thoughts like a battering ram to glass.

  My spine straightened.

  Fingers clutching the receiver, I stood, watching from the corner of my eye as Shelby did the same. Not missing the unmistakable fear and nervousness that seeped through the plastic speaker from the other end of the call, I swallowed, my throat tight once more.

  “It’s okay, chica,” I whispered, fighting to keep the panic blooming in my chest from releasing the darkness inside me. “I can help you.” I didn’t know what I should say, but I followed my gut and sent up a silent prayer that it wouldn’t steer me wrong. “All you have to do is talk to me. If you can do that, then—”

  “But he’ll k-kill me.”

  The floor beneath my feet shifted.

  As I’d suspected, the caller was young. Not a child, but a teenager, most likely. Instantly, memories of Chiquita and Little One at sixteen and fifteen flashed in the forefront of my mind like a kaleidoscope hand-constructed by Satan himself.

  I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, refusing to allow the alarm that crept up my spine to leak into my voice. “Who will kill you?”

  Wanting to hear what was being said, Shelby moved closer, the pen she held clutched in her fisted hand as James cursed in the background, his anger going from zero to sixty in two seconds flat.

  Ignoring him, I rolled the phone the slightest bit, placing the speaker facing upward instead of against my ear so the Shelby could hear what was being said as well.

  Both of our bodies tensed, even further so, when the young chica’s sniffling turned into a muted cry. “His name is Voodoo. He took me, and now he says he’s my... m-my...”

  One name, and I knew...

  I knew precisely the hijo de perra she spoke of.

  How could I not when he’d spent years at El Diablo’s side, helping to torture not only Chiquita and Little One, but myself as well, as he danced whenever Dominic pulled his strings like the thoughtless puppet he’d always been?

  The things he did...

  Anger simmered in my belly.

  Soon, it would boil into unstoppable rage.

  “He will not hurt you,” I said, the desire to kill the cabrón who’d likely taken over Dominic’s kingdom as soon as he was locked up, rippling beneath my fiery skin. “The hija de puta will meet his maker first.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. I realize that. But in the heat of the moment, it couldn’t be helped.

  Not when I was that pissed.

  “Just tell me where you are, and I swear I will come and get you,” I continued as James cursed again and called my name, demanding I speak to him. It was a command I pretended not to hear.

  Not now, Guapo.

  The girl, whose name I had yet to learn, cried out again though she tried to muffle the heart-wrenching sound, the hope that I spoke the truth, but that she was too afraid to believe, sending her spiraling. “But then he’ll k-kill you t-too.”

  “No, he won’t.” Though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “Bebé, listen to me...” My hands curled into tight fists of their own volition. “I know of the evil you speak of all too well. Trust me when I say that I’ve taken on men scarier than he and come out on top.” Not to mention, I don’t die easily. “I assure you, no harm will come to either of us once I reach you.”

  There was a pregnant pause.

  Then, “Swear you’ll c-come?” Before I could answer, she added, “I haven’t been able to use a p-phone until now, but t-the lady who gave me this n-number said you’d”—more crying—“help m-me.”

  I didn’t know what lady she spoke of, but I had my suspicions since a couple of years before, the shelter had started an outreach program that helped my coworkers further connect with those who may need their help.

  Now, once every two weeks, the ladies walked the center city streets, the areas most affected by both poverty and crime, handing out care packages to the less fortunate, which included food, hygiene products, and community resource information.

  If I had to guess, I’d say that one of them had already spoken to the chica on the phone—or at least someone she knew—during one of t
hose walks. Maybe even handed them a business card like Maddie had done to me all those years ago.

  “Si, I swear I will come and help you,” I answered, grabbing a pen from the cup at the top of Charlotte’s desk, along with a pink sticky note pad. “Now tell me where you are, along with your name and age, so I can do just that.”

  “A-Anna,” she whispered, her anguished cries calming the slightest bit and revealing a slight accent that I couldn’t quite place. “My name is Anna, and I’m... f-fifteen.”

  And there it was—the boiling rage.

  Like acid, it ate away at my insides, dissolving my self-restraint and, with it, my ability to remain level-headed. When I get my hands on Voodoo, so help me—

  “I’m at a house on Peach Street.” Lungs seizing, my erratic pulse stuttered, then kicked into a frenzy as Anna added to the words she’d just spoken. “It’s a grey two-story with a broken porch, busted—”

  “—front window and faded red door.”

  Anna sucked in a breath. “You know?”

  My chin trembled, eyes glazing over with wetness. “Si, I know of the house.” Because I spent six years of my life trapped within its walls. My gut twisted and turned at the revelation of where she was, along with just how much danger she was in. “It will take me ten minutos to reach you, but I promise you, I. Am. Coming.”

  Nothing could keep me away. Not when she needed to be saved, and I was just the perra to take the devil holding her captive head-on. “Keep your head down until I get there. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, sinking a knife into my heart before crying again. “Please hurry. I j-just want to go home... to my b-brother.”

  For the millionth time, my heart broke.

  Shattered like expensive crystal.

  “I will get you back to your brother.” Come hell or high water, I would. “Just stay quiet and out of the way until I get there, si? Because I’m leaving now and—”

  “Who the fuck are you talking to?”

  My temples throbbed, and red smoke wafted into the fields of my vision at the sound of Voodoo’s furious voice. “Bitch, I asked you a question. Who the hell is on the phone?”