Love, Lies & The D.A. (49 page)

I use
the broomstick to check it. There is something there, but I’m not certain it’s
his cell phone. It could be a wallet.

The
sound of footsteps coming down the stairs startles me. I rapidly shove my body
off the wall, run to place the broom in the corner, and push the mattress with
my foot in place. I hear him opening the various locks on the door as I try to
swiftly replace the tape. I’m not going to have time. I hide the excess under
my stretched legs.

The
door bursts open. He looks at me angrily. He has what looks like a box of
garbage bags and a cutlass in his hand.

“You’re
going to chop that body up into small pieces and put them in separate bags,” he
says, throwing the bag at me. He rests the cutlass against the wall.

I am
in utter shock by what I hear. I don’t even know how to respond.

“When
I get back here, you better be done.”

“I’m
not going to do that,” I say calmly.

“You
will do what I fucking tell you to do.”

“No. I
won’t. Don’t you have any respect for your brother’s body or his memory?”

He
swings his arm, hitting me straight across my cheekbone, and sends me rolling
off the mattress. My head crashes into the wall and I feel blood running down
my scalp.

“You
will do as I tell you, or I will put a bullet in your head.”

I feel
angry all of a sudden.

“Well,
you may as well shoot me now because I’m not doing it. And if you think you’ll
get any money after that, don’t fool yourself.”

He
drags my body onto the mattress by my handcuffs, yanking me hard, sending my
already broken wrist into excruciating pain.

“You’re
hurting me,” I yell.

“Well,
you should have thought about that before you decided to be a fucking wise-ass.”

“Please,
don’t make me do this, please,” I beg. Tears are now spewing from my eyes.

“This
is all your fucking fault, so you’re going to have to help me clean up this
fucking mess.”

“Then
why don’t you roll his body up in the garbage bag and take him away.”

“Because
it’s a lot harder to get rid of him that way, you stupid bitch. You want to
haul away two hundred pounds?”

“I can’t
do this,” I mutter. He walks away from the mattress. I’m not sure what he’s
going to do. He paces the floor for minutes, like he’s thinking. Then his eyes
transfix onto the broom. I’m not sure why. He walks across and picks it up. The
he unscrews the head from the stick.

“Either
you do as I say, or I’ll bury this fucking stick so far inside you, you won’t
be able to walk for months.”

I
freeze in fear, and at that moment, I suddenly start trembling uncontrollably.
I pray that someone would intervene, and somehow, this would stop. Although I
know the consequences, I can’t find the guts to participate in something so
horrid… so gruesome.

I
burst into loud sobs and beg, “Please don’t.”

He
doesn’t answer but knocks me over onto my back, spanning his body over my legs.
He then pulls a revolver from his back then empties out all but one bullet onto
my stomach.

“Don’t?
Maybe you prefer playing Russian roulette with your cunt.”

Like
in slow motion, I see his hand heading for the buttons on my shorts. I scream
and shout as loudly as I can and try to kick my legs free. The tape is making
it difficult as I try to cut loose. Eventually, the tape comes slack and I
succeed. I am able to push him off me and kick him in his face.

“You
fucking bitch!”

I leap
off and head for the stairs. I hear him scurry behind me. His hand lands on my
ankle, causing me to slip, and he drags me down the stairs back into the room.

“Help!”
I’m fighting, kicking, and screaming. He hits me with the handle of the gun
across my temple. I fall to the mattress onto my stomach. I feel the energy
dissipating from my body. I hear what sounds like handcuffs closing, and before
I realize what is happening, I feel the cold metal of shackles tighten around
my ankles. He rolls me onto my back with his foot. I feel the urge to vomit,
but nothing is in my system. He spans my legs once more, ripping the fly of my
shorts open.

My
teeth clatter. Tears pour from my eyes, and I scream out for help.

“No
one is here to help you,” he shouts.

Oh
God… He’s going to rape me…

“No.
Please don’t, please.”

He’s
not saying anything, but he has pure rage in his eyes. I follow his every move
and watch him pick up the gun, and he places the barrel between my legs,
massaging me with the barrel over my privates. I pray he will stop.

“Please
stop,” I beg.

I know
all I have to do is do as he wants, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“Will
you do as I say?”

I can’t
respond.

“Or
maybe I can have a look at the cute red bra and panties you have under there…”
he says, fondling between my thighs.

I try
to shove his hands away. He slaps me across my cheek. I feel the heat radiating
across my face. It burns. I weep hysterically, and I realize I’ve come to my
end. He’s screaming at me, but I no longer hear him.

Images
of my last few months with Jonathan, my mom, and Bobby are all that flashes
through my mind. I hear a loud bang, and I scream. My body jolts under his
weight.

“One
down… five to go.”

“I’ll
do almost anything. Please, I’ll pay you.”

He
punches me hard across my jaw, and I can taste the blood that accumulates in my
mouth. I feel like I’m choking on my own blood and cough, sending blood spatter
across his T-shirt.

My
heart is pounding. I feel scared and so alone. I see Daddy telling me it will
be okay, that he’s here for me, and I realize I might finally be seeing him
again soon.

“Are
you ready to obey?”

I
ignore him.

He
shoves the barrel into my mouth and counts…

“Ten…
nine… eight… seven… six… five… Still don’t want to change your mind? Four…”

Violent
shivers explode through my body. My heart explodes in my chest. I feel my
entire body go weak. I think I’m going to faint. I can’t bear to look. I seal
my eyes shut, but the tears still come through.

“Four…
three… two…”

God,
please take care of my family and Johnny…

“FBI.
Freeze!”

I
wonder if I’m dead, or dreaming, or in some sort of a trance, or in another
world. Through my tears, three men in FBI tactical gear are pointing guns
straight at him. Another pulls the weapon from him and slaps on a set of
handcuffs. Everything that happens from here seems unreal. He’s escorted out of
the room.

An
agent picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the room. I look around me,
and it looks like I’ve been in an old hanger. He walks me out of the oversized
old metal structure in the pouring rain and places me in the back of an
ambulance. A woman comes in and wraps a blanket around me. Another man takes
the cuffs off my wrists and shackles off my ankles.

“We’ll
take care of you,” she says, wiping the blood away from my mouth and throat.
“You’re going to be fine.”

I
stare at her, but the words don’t seem the come out of my mouth. A black SUV
rushes in, and before the vehicle comes to a complete halt, the back door opens
and Jonathan rushes out and runs towards me. I finally feel some sense of
relief. He wraps his arms around me and holds me.

Moments
later, Bobby, Val, and Phillip show up. They all hug me and say all these
things, but their words are a daze. I’m not sure, but I don’t think I respond.
All I want right now is to go home. I don’t want to be here.

Val
opens a medical bag and does some health checks.

“We
need to get her out of here,” she says. “She needs to go to the hospital.”

“I
want to go home,” I finally whisper.

They
walk me over to the SUV. In the corner of my eye, I see Blue Eyes sitting in
the back of a vehicle staring at me. I tense then stop. The mask is gone, but
his eyes are all I need to see. Jonathan and Bobby follow my gaze as the tears
descend my cheeks. Bobby starts towards him. Val and Phillip force him into the
vehicle. Jonathan picks me up, placing me inside. He walks around the back and
sits beside me. Val comes in on the opposite side.

Phillip
has a discussion with some other agents and Douglas, who I see for the first
time. He returns to the vehicle and backs out of the fenced area.

Jonathan
sits next to me, pulls me in his lap, and I curl up in his arms. As I watch the
scene disappear in the distance, I finally release and let go. I’m finally able
to breathe. I try to squeeze my eyes shut so the tears won’t flow. I try to
control the gasps of air that uncontrollably escape my mouth. The harder I try,
the louder my sobs seem to get. Jonathan’s grip tightens around me, and I bury
my face into his neck.

“I promise
you, Baby. It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now,” he says.

I
remain silent and close my eyes.

*     *     *

Jada
doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but I manage to convince her to. With the
obvious blows she received to her head, we all think that she should be checked
out. Under heavy security, she’s taken to a facility where the doctors run
tests and scans then she is allowed to return home.

I won’t
let her out of my sight. Even for a few minutes. Val stays with us the entire
time she’s with the doctors. They would prefer her to be in a hospital setting,
but because Val is here to monitor her, and because of the extreme
circumstances, they’ve made an exception for her to leave.

We get
home and I hold her close in the elevator. She has not said a word, or looked
directly into my eyes.

I take
her to her bathroom and run her a hot bath. One of her cheeks is swollen and
red. On the opposite side, there’s nasty bruising around her eye. Blood is
dried around her busted lip, and dried tear tracks run down her face.

I help
her out of my bloodied shirt, then the rest of her clothing, and toss them into
a garbage bag. The FBI needs it as evidence. She’s a little weak and possibly
hurt and aching. She holds my hand to brace herself as she sinks into the tub.
With a rag, I gently clean the small cut on her temple, then the side of her
head, then on her lip.

She
still hasn’t looked at me. She is filled with so much sadness. Tears flow from
her glassy eyes. She starts shivering again.

I
climb whole suit into the tub with her, and circle her in my arms. She clutches
onto me tightly and weeps. Slowly, the sobs turn to tears, then after some
comfort, they subside.

I wash
her hair, gently rinsing the caked blood at the side and back of her head.
Every so often, she winces, and I realize she is in some physical pain.

It
becomes more apparent when I dry her nude body and slip a clean sweatshirt over
her. She was obviously beaten. The black and blue bruises range from her hands
and arms all the way to her torso and her thighs. I don’t think she was raped.
God, I hope she wasn’t raped. The thought crosses my mind. I am not an expert,
but the marks that I see are not completely consistent with those I’ve seen in
pictures in the past. That being said, it doesn’t explain why her shorts were
ripped.

I’ve
never seen her so lifeless. She lies in bed, her body propped up. Val puts her
on an IV because she’s severely dehydrated. I’m afraid to leave her, even for a
few minutes, despite there being security placed at every entry and exit of
this building. She’s not asleep. She appears to stare into space, and every now
and then, tears fall down her cheeks.

The
last twenty-four hours for me have been the most difficult I ever lived, but I
am immensely thankful that in large part, it’s over, at least where Jada’s
physical health is concerned.

I feed
her some chicken soup, and after, she lies down. Slowly, I watch as her eyes
blink, and she finally falls asleep. The bedroom door is slightly ajar. Val
comes in to check on her. Bobby follows closely behind.

None
of us have said much since her rescue. I guess we’re all trying to cope with
this the best we can. My siblings and Mom have been calling, but right now,
Jada is my priority. After a short conversation with Mom, I ask her to spread
the news to the rest. Eventually, we say goodnight, and for the first time in
exactly twenty-four hours, with a loaded gun under my pillow, I close my eyes
and drift to sleep.

I
wake. Something
doesn’t feel right. I look over. The dim night
light shines on her face. Her eyes are wide open. I lean over, enveloping her
in my arms. I don’t know if there is anything I can say that will make this
better.

It’s
only been a couple of hours since she drifted to sleep. Maybe a nightmare woke
her.