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    “I’m
sorry,” she murmurs with her head hung.

    “Don’t
be sorry.  Let’s lie back down.  I’m right here and I’m not gonna let
anything happen to you, okay?”

    She
nods her head and follows me back into Laney’s room.  She curls up in bed
and pulls the covers tight to her chin again.  I resume my sitting
position next to her and turn the light out when I see her close her eyes.
 I sit there in the darkness until exhaustion pulls me back under.

CHAPTER 7

Amy

    He’s
slumped against the headboard.  His hair is sticking up in every
direction.  His arms are crossed over his chest and his legs are crossed
at his ankles.  His head is tilted back and is all crooked and his mouth
is hanging wide open.  Horrible, loud noises fall from his mouth.  He
looks so uncomfortable.  I don’t want to wake him though, because I don’t
want him to leave.

    I
carefully slip off of the bed and collect the book I left on the dresser last
night.  I sit on the bed with my legs crossed and start reading.  I’m
a few chapters in when Dillon starts to stir.  He slowly opens his eyes
and clamps his mouth shut.  He brings both of his hands to his face and
rubs them up and down, and then turns to me when he realizes I’m staring at
him.

    “Hi,”
he says softly.

    “Hi.”

    “How
are you feeling?”

    “Better.
 Thank you.”

    He
nods his head and looks around the room while he gathers his thoughts. “Can I
ask you something?” he asks while rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

    My
face falls.  I’m not ready to talk about it.  I look down and pick at
my fingernails as I prepare for his question, and then I lift my eyes to meet
his.

    “Pancakes
or waffles?” he asks in a sleepy, hoarse voice.  I can feel my face
immediately brighten.

    “Pancakes,”
I reply.

    “Great.”
 He jumps up from the bed. “I’ll make us some breakfast and then I have to
do some work.  Will you be okay, hanging out here for a while?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Why
don’t you take a shower or do whatever you need to do while I get everything
started downstairs.”

    “Okay.”

    I
stand in the shower and let the stream of warm water wash away last night.
 With the soft fluffy white towel wrapped around me, I wipe the steam off
of the mirror and run a comb through my hair.  It’s long and tangled, and
the ends are split.  I look awful.  My eyes are puffy.  I see a
faint yellow bruise on my cheek, probably from when my mother slammed my journal
into my face.  All the memories come rushing back, but I hold back the
tears.  I take a deep breath and grab the clothes Dillon gave me last
night and put them back on. I have nothing and I don’t want to just rummage
through his sister’s clothes.

    By
the time I get downstairs, Dillon is sitting at the kitchen table reading
something on a small computer.  A plate stacked with pancakes and fresh
strawberries is set on the table at the empty seat beside him.  The smell
of pancakes attacks my senses.  I’m so hungry, my stomach growls loud
enough to disrupt Dillon’s reading and he looks up at me.

    “Hey,
come eat.  You must be starving.  I’m really no cook but I can make
some mean pancakes.”  He pats the empty chair and I slowly make my way
over and sit.  He continues to read, so I dig into the stack and fill my
mouth with the warm fluffy goodness that is soaked with maple syrup.  I
know I’m making sounds as I devour them, but I can’t help it.  I notice a
glass of fresh squeezed orange juice next to my plate and wash down the
pancakes after each bite.  The sweet syrup mixes with the tartness on my
tongue.  I’m completely enthralled with the food and the juice, so I’m not
sure how long Dillon has been staring at me over his coffee cup.

   “It’s
really good,” I say with my mouth full as an explanation for my obnoxious
eating habits.

    He
chuckles.  “I can tell.  I’m glad you’re enjoying it.  Listen, I
got a call from Detective Douglas while you were in the shower.”  He turns
slightly towards me.

    “What
did he say?”

    “He
just wanted to know if there was anything else you remembered.  He said he
has the name of the man that owns the land, which I knew was my dad’s friend,
Alex Schafer.  They’re going to question him.  He told me your mother
is going to be transferred to a facility in Pueblo.  He gave me the
address.  It’s about three hours from here.  She’s still not doing
very well, so I don’t think you can see her just yet.”

    I
nod, letting him know that I heard what he said.  Thick emotions are
clogging my throat and I can’t get words out.  I miss my mother, but I
feel like I shouldn’t.  She protected me from that monster my whole life,
but then couldn’t protect me from her own craziness.  I feel lost because
I have no home anymore, even though the home I had for eighteen years was more
like a prison.  I want to trust Dillon because what choice do I really
have, but at the same, time I’ve been wired to not trust anyone.  I feel
somewhat free, but at the same time, trapped.  I am trapped by fear.
 Fear of what is going to happen to me.  I’m eighteen and I’ve never
had any contact with people. I’ve never been to a store and I don’t even know
how to use a phone.  I can’t expect Dillon to just take care of me like a
stray dog.  He has a family, a girlfriend and a career.

    “Are
you okay?” he asks me as my mind starts to go crazy with my thoughts.

    “Yeah,”
I say, but I’m not.  I’m really not okay.  I push the remaining
pancakes around on my plate with my fork.

    “Amy.
 Don’t think too much.  You can stay here for as long as you need.
 Don’t worry about anything.  You just need to take it easy right
now.  Listen, I have to get some work done this morning, but I’ll cut it
short.  When I’m done working, we’ll have dinner and hang out or something.
 Sound good?”

    “Yeah.”
 It’s all I can get out.  It may sound like nothing, but I’ve never
hung out with anyone. What does that even mean?  He seems unsure about
leaving me alone but I’ve been alone for eighteen years.  It’s what I’m
used to.

    “Feel
free to use whatever you need in Laney’s room.  She won’t mind.  She
has tons of clothes and whatever you may need.”

    “Thanks.”

    After
Dillon heads out to the ranch, I find myself exploring Laney’s room.  I’m
sure it’s a typical girl’s room, but I’ve never seen anything like it.
 There is so much color everywhere.  She must like purple.  She
has makeup and perfume and lots and lots of clothes.  There are books and
stuffed animals everywhere.  I spray a bit of her perfume on my wrists.
 It smells like candy.  I like it.  I keep sniffing it as I
gather a bunch of books from her shelves that look interesting.  Very
interesting.  

    As
always, when I feel the need to escape from my thoughts and my loneliness, I
read.  I curl up on Laney’s bed and open one of the books.  This one
is about an awkward girl that falls in love with the high school jock.
 It’s nothing like Romeo and Juliet or Pride and Prejudice.  I love
reading about kids in school.  It sounds like so much fun; best friends,
dances, and boys.  About halfway through, my eyes get wide as I read about
the things he does to her body. Things with his tongue, his fingers and
his….cock?  I’ve read text books about sex.  They use technical
terms.  The words they use and how they describe sex in these books is
nothing like I’ve read before.  I’ve been told touching is dirty and evil,
but yet as I read about this boy touching the girl, licking and sucking on her
skin, pushing his cock inside of her, I feel other things.  Parts of my
body awaken. I feel pulsing sensations and wetness between my legs.  My
body screams to be touched, but my mind is warring with it, conjuring up
visions of my mother screaming and crying while the skinny man does things to
her.  I think about the things I’ve seen and the things she’s told me and
it terrifies me.  But when I think about Dillon, my heart races, my skin
heats up, and my belly flutters.  It doesn’t feel dirty or scary, it feels
good.  I want so badly to crawl into his arms, to feel his warm body
against mine.  I want him to touch me like this boy in the book touches
the girl.  I need to quiet my mind and let my body win the war.  I
finish the first book and scan the pile for another, but then I hear a faint
knock on the door.

    “Amy?”

    “Come
in.”

   “Hey,” he
says poking his head inside the door.  “I just need to hop in the shower
and then I’m all yours.  You doing okay?”

    I
nod.  He smiles at me and closes the door behind him.  I let out a
big whoosh of air.  He was sweaty; really sweaty.  His shirt was
clinging to his chest and I could see the outline of his muscles.  Then he
said he was all mine.  I don’t think he realizes what his words mean to
me.

    An
hour later, Dillon is freshly showered.  His hair is damp and messy and he
smells so good.  We stand side by side in the kitchen putting together a
pasta dish from a recipe he got from his sister. He pulls out pots and pans
from the cabinets and ingredients from his pantry.  His pantry is huge.
 I can’t bring myself to go inside.  His kitchen is nothing like what
I’m used to.  It’s big and bright with lots of windows.  Dillon hands
me a tomato and a knife.

    “You
like to cook?” he asks.

    “Never
really have.  Just soup and stuff.”

    I
pick up the knife with one hand and steady the tomato with the other, but I’m
unsure of what the hell I’m supposed to do.  He notices my hesitation and
without a word, gently puts his hand over mine and shows me how to cut the
tomato into chunks.  I feel his touch throughout my entire body.  It’s
warm and tender, but still my breath hitches and my hand flinches.  He
pulls his hand away immediately.  I do the next two on my own and bite at
my lips trying not to smile like an idiot at my ridiculous accomplishment.
 

    “Since
my sister moved out and my dad stays in Denver often, I started to cook more.
 Pasta is easy and you can make it so different each time. Laney has a
bunch of recipes.”  He pauses.  “So, speaking of Laney, I wanted to
talk to you about something.”

    “Okay.”

    “I
want to call her and ask her to get you into the office where she works.
 She’s a nurse.  Have you ever been to a doctor?”

    “What
kind of doctor?”  He’s making me nervous now.  He thinks I’m crazy
like my mother and wants me to take medication and I won’t.

    “You
know, like a girly doctor,” he says awkwardly, not looking at me.

    “Oh.”
 A doctor used to come to the house when I was little but the last time
was a long time ago.

    I
think I may have been around twelve.  I remember the old man would bring a
doctor with him every once in a while and I would get a check-up and sometimes
shots.  One time I was really sick with a stomach flu and since we didn’t
have a phone, we had to wait for the old man to come with the boxes before my
mother could ask him to send a doctor.  By the time the doctor came with
medicine, I remember I felt like I was going to die.  Within a few days of
taking the medicine, I could finally eat again and I started to get better.
 He may have come one more time after that.

    “Would
you go?  I mean, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but maybe you can
talk to a doctor about what you went through …..your nightmares.”

    I
turn to him abruptly.  “Do you think I’m crazy?”  I can feel my lips
start to quiver and my eyes burn.

    He
stops stirring the pasta and turns toward me and looks directly into my eyes.
 “I don’t think you’re crazy.  I’m a guy and I’m not sure exactly
what happened to you and what you need, so I just thought my sister could get
you into her office to get looked at.” Even though he’s looking right into my
eyes, I can tell he’s avoiding saying exactly why he wants me to go to a
doctor, and then I realize what it is.

    “I
wasn’t sexually abused, if that’s what you’re thinking.”  I immediately
see relief in his expression.  “Is that what you were thinking?”

    “Yeah.
 I guess.”  He runs his hands through his hair and looks at the
floor, blowing out a long breath and then he looks back up at me.  I see
pain in his eyes.  “Amy, I just want to help.  If you can’t talk to me,
then you need to talk to someone else.  If you don’t need to talk to a
doctor, then maybe my sister?”

    “I
want to talk to you, I’m just scared.”  I feel a tear run down my cheek.
 I quickly wipe it away.  Since the day I saw Dillon on the other
side of the fence, he made me feel like I could be a normal girl.  He gave
me hope that my mother was wrong.  That the world isn’t evil.  That
there is such a thing as love.  I’m scared that when he finds out what
really happened in that house, he’ll realize just how broken I am and that I
need to be fixed with medications and psychiatrists.  I’ll never be a
normal girl.  He won’t want me.

    “Are
you scared of me?”  His eyes are filled with worry.  He’s standing so
close to me.  A few days ago, I was scared of him as he stood on the other
side of the fence, but as he stands in front of me, his breath on my face, his
brown eyes searching mine, I’m not scared of him at all.

    “Not
like that.  I mean, I know you won’t hurt me, physically.  I know
that.  I just…”

    “Can
we sit for a minute?” he asks, gesturing to the couch.