A Graceful Mess (19 page)

All I wanted was to get out of the house. A little fresh air would help my mood and Maci kept nagging saying that my toes needed painting. So I took her advice and slid on some shorts and a tank top and walked into town. The summer heat that beat down on my exposed shoulders felt amazing. They say that UV light makes people happier, and I’d say they’re correct. I could feel a change in my mood as my feet hit the concrete pavement under my sandals as I approached the nail salon. Shutting the door behind me, my eyes glanced across the street. There on the other side of the street sat Parker’s big, black truck. The windows are all down, but no one is in it. Hopefully it will be gone when I leave. I certainly don’t want to have to see him, or much less him see me all weak and vulnerable like I am now. It’s been hard enough to realize that the one man you could see a future with doesn’t want you. Coming to grips with that hasn’t been easy, but just like before, I will get over him.

The nail tech leads me to the back of the small, dimly lit shop and sits me in a leather chair. Removing my sandals, my feet sink into a pool of warm water. Suds and bubbles make it hard to see my toes through the water, so I lean back and allow the leather chair’s massager to relax me. The tech comes over and starts to work on my cuticles. She doesn’t speak, which is a gesture I normally would consider rude, but today the silence is a warm pleasure. My own thoughts are enough to drive someone mad. Tilting my neck to the side, my eyes glance out the big windows at the store front. There is a weird man peering into the building wearing a sweatshirt with the hood over his head. Moving my neck back, I forget about the strange sight as the tech rubs her lotioned hands up and down my calves. The feeling is amazing, and I am instantly glad that Maci suggested a pedicure. The back of the leather chair moves as my hands control the remote and set it to the knocking position. Deciding to go with a bright pink polish, I lean back in the chair and allow my back to get massaged as she paints my toes.

After I hand the tech my credit card, I use the ladies’ room and then walk outside. Parker’s truck is still parked on the side of the road.

What? Is he spying on me?

I don’t know who he thinks he is or why all of a sudden my blood is boiling from just from the sight of his truck, and then in the shadows I see him leaning down, hiding. Anger invades my thoughts. Why would he be hiding? And then a rush of raw emotions comes over me.

Why doesn’t he want to see me anymore? Was there something I did? Was I not good enough?

Maybe he had to trade me in because I wasn’t kinky enough for him. I thought things were good. We were friends – well, whatever we were, lovers – for a brief time, and the sex was the best of my life. Considering I don’t have much to compare it to, it was still good, for me at least.

That’s it!

I’m not going to be a prisoner to my own sorrow anymore. I feel like I am literality drowning in it. I have spent too many years afraid and in the silence of my own mind. Parker unleashed me, he made me whole again, and poof! Without notice, rhyme, or reason, he just abandons me. The old Grace would shrivel up in her insecurities and let it eat at her – not that I haven’t had a little bit of a pity party for the past few weeks – but here is my chance to get some answers. Marching over towards his truck I am caught off guard by two strong hands that grab my arms and hold me in place. My feet are no longer moving and I am being held by the devil himself. My throat feels tight as my breath catches. I don’t move as my eyes make contact with his face. A rush of memories overwhelms me as his smoky, whiskey scent fills my nostrils. His brown eyes hypnotize me, just like they did that night.

I can’t scream; all I can do is whisper, “Brody?”

His Adam’s apple moves up and down and his eyebrows frown, but he doesn’t respond. His grip gets tighter.

Ten, nine, eight…

He will not hurt me again. I am not that quiet, weak Grace I used to be. Parker made me stronger and made me feel more alive in the short time we have known each other than I ever have in my entire life.

“I told you I would find you, Gracie. You think just because the baby is dead, our love died too? That it was that easy to get away from me?”

“Let me go!” I twist and turn violently in his embrace trying to get away.

“Help! Someone help me!” I scream as if my life depended on it, which it does. No one knows what he is capable of.

It feel like hours pass as I scream for help in his arms. Those dark brown eyes, masked with such evil, peer into my soul. The same eyes that held me down, that taunted me. The eyes of the man who raped me over and over, before killing my child.

Nightmares filled my nights for days, weeks, months after the incident. My parents decided it would be best if I saw someone, a therapist, someone who had a license to help girls like me: victims of sexual assault.

I met with Sally for a long time. I felt safe in the nook of her four office walls. Brody couldn’t get me there, not even his memory. She felt if I could face the events of that night, I wouldn't be so scared anymore. Victims of assault will often suffer from some type of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Since I was almost eighteen, it was my parents' decision, and they supported Sally's recommendation. Sally was right. The cognitive-behavioral therapy brought back the events, and it made things worse. The images were more vivid than they ever were. Brody Hendricks raped me, over and over. I recall the day I had my hypnosis. Before that, I did everything to block out that night, but once the memories came back there was no hiding from them.

Brody had come over. He said he had a romantic dinner planned and wanted to celebrate finding out the gender of our baby. Ever since I’d made the decision to carry the baby full term and then give it up for adoption, his demeanor had changed. We started fighting a lot, and he even got aggressive with me a few times. I never put up with it, and he almost always stopped, but that night he seemed excited. He knew the plan. Once the baby was born, it would be handed off. I couldn’t stomach the thought of ever having an abortion. I’m not against it; it just wasn’t an option for me. I remember him calling to apologize for being a jerk. He knew this was my decision, and said he supported whatever I wanted to do. I believed him, so I agreed to go with him to my parents’ hotel. He said it would be discreet and we wouldn’t have my brothers and parents around. The quietness sounded nice.

We arrived at the hotel and things seemed normal. The room was decorated with candles and rose petals. He seemed very attentive to my needs. I was only sixteen weeks at the time, but my small body already had a bump. We ate dinner and laughed, and then he wanted to have sex. I remember I was really tired and told him I didn’t want to. I climbed on the bed and asked him to come lie next to me. It was like looking into someone’s eyes and watching them suddenly go black. The sight was pure evil; the sight of his anger radiating off of him still haunts me to this day.

The mood in the air shifted when he knelt down beside me and said, “I love you, more than I love myself, but I would have loved that baby more. Do you know what children go through when they are adopted? One minute things are good, but then your fake family gets tired of you and you’re stuck in foster care until you’re eighteen. Do you want your baby being bounced around from house to fucking house with soulless part-time parents?”

Anger filled the room as he spoke. His facial expression turned cold. I couldn’t speak. Did he really bring me here to scold me for a decision he said was mine, one which he said he accepted?

“You are an evil disgrace and your actions sicken me.”

It was then that the open palm of his hand connected with my cheek. I wish that was the extent of the thrashings, but it wasn’t. Brody beat me until I couldn’t move, and took me unwillingly several times, all the while shouting, “I’d rather the baby be dead than live in a shitty orphanage.”

Finally, I just succumbed to his will. There was nothing left in me to fight him away. When I did muster up the strength, he penetrated me harder and deeper. There was blood everywhere. The sheets were soaked with red saturation and it was then, with the sight of the white cotton sheets turned red, I knew I was having a miscarriage. I read about them in my pregnancy books, but it hurt worse than I ever would have imagined. I don’t know if it was the pain of him pushing into me so roughly or the result of losing the baby, but the shooting pain in my stomach felt like a hundred daggers being stabbed into me. The reality was it was a small pocket knife that tore my flesh open. Now, I have a scar there – present and never fading. A scar that is a daily reminder of the night Brody raped me and attempted to cut me open.

Tears and blood blurred my vision as he said, “I’ll kill the baby myself before I let you give him up. Do you hear me, Gracie? I will fucking kill this baby and you for making such a selfish decision and then I’ll kill your precious parents for supporting that decision.”

It was like he was possessed. This wasn’t the Brody I met my freshman year of high school, but a malicious version of himself. He was a senior, about to graduate; he was also usually very sweet and loving. He treated me like a princess. I honestly didn’t know he felt that strongly about the adoption. He’d never mentioned it. Not once did he speak up, until that night. It was like he changed and wasn’t himself anymore. He was evil; nothing but pure hatred poured from his pores.

Although Brody tried to mute my screams by covering my mouth, I was able to yell out a few times; loud enough for someone to hear eventually. An older couple that had checked in that morning called the police. I remember the knife feeling dull. Thank God because if someone hadn’t broken in and interrupted him, I know he would have made a bigger slit in my skin regardless if it was sharp or not. The small two-inch scar is big enough. I don’t remember much else from that night. My parents rushed me to the hospital where they confirmed I had lost the baby due to the trauma Brody caused my body. We filed a restraining order and charges against him. The day we went to the court hearing, is the day I stopped being me. The person who I became was numb to the world and was no longer living, for that matter, I was just there. He made me a prisoner in my own body. I was traumatized and left vulnerable and miserable, so I just gave up and simply, existed, to a point where the pain and anguish of that night dictated who I was. The last I heard he was in jail.

Suddenly a strong body pushes me away from Brody’s tight embrace. His arms loosen around mine allowing me to step away. It’s Parker who lies on top of Brody, holding him down. My voice shrieks in horror at the sight in front of me. No one knows what Brody is capable of doing. No one knows the evil that lives inside him. No one but me. Parker pushes off of him and rushes to my side and then my world stops. The shock of seeing Brody holding a small, black gun pointed in our direction freezes me in place. Parker holds me behind his back, staring death in the face, as Brody pulls the trigger. I hear Parker gasp for air.

“Ahh…” he cries as his right hand lets go of me and holds his shoulder.

Brody turns around and takes off down the street. People scream and call out for help as Parker’s body leans into my chest and then slides down my body. Tears cloud my vision and blood soaks my clothes. Bending down I use both hands to apply pressure to the bullet wound in his left shoulder. Blood pools around my legs.

“Don’t die. Don’t die. Please, Parker. Please, baby, come on. Just stay with me!” I scream while attempting to hold down his shoulder while he moans in pain. “Someone call 911! We need an ambulance, please!” I beg to anyone and everyone who is standing in a circle around us. Minutes pass as my steadily beating heart pounds in my chest. All I can hear is the thumping.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Parker opens his eyes and shuts them a few times, and then he parts his mouth like he is going to say something. I lean closer to his mouth and position my ear so I am hovered over his lips.