Making the Cut (2 page)

I relaxed when I remembered they were away on some cruise and unreachable for three weeks.

Ian frowned. “We’ll talk about this later, now do your business, I’ll be outside the door ok?” He kissed me on the head softly and walked out.

I spotted a brand new toothbrush, amongst Barney’s entire cosmetic and skincare range. I guess a little fairy called Amy had been in here. I flinched, mid brush as I caught my reflection, both my eyes were swollen, black bruises lingered underneath them. A bandage covered my head and a scabbed over cut on my lip was tender against the brush. I touched my bandaged cheek gently, it looked like there was stitches underneath the bandage. A long, scabbed over gash decorated my neck like some kind of gruesome necklace. I didn’t look down any further, I gripped the edge of the sink with my one good hand, close to collapsing; an angry sob ripped out of my chest. Memories flooded through me, the pain, the faces of those monsters, and the fear, the paralyzing fear of thinking I was going to be raped and murdered. And by the man I thought I loved.

“Gwen, are you ok? I’m coming in!” I heard a voice yell through the door.

Ian burst in, looking worried. His eyes softened seeing me slumped against the sink. He gently pulled me into his arms.

“I was so stupid Ian, I was so stupid.” I repeated sobbing into his chest.

“This was not your fault Ace, this was some sick bastards who are fucked in the head, none of this is your fault.” He framed my head with his hands, eyes glistening with moisture.

I had never seen my brother cry. Him and my Dad are the strong ones, Mum and I cried at anything. We sob at sad news stories and those television ads about animal cruelty. Dad and Ian had spent their whole lives surrounded by our ‘delicate female sensibilities’. Although that phrase was only uttered once, and thanks to the reaction it got, was never said again. That’s why I wasn’t letting them find out about this, it would destroy Mum, and if Ian reacted like this, I couldn’t handle my parents going through it too. My bad decisions that put me here, I somehow had to find the strength to get through this without them.

“Ian, I’m okay.” I tried to reassure him.

“No sweetie, you aren’t, but you will be.” My brother stated, scooping me up and walking us to my bed.

“Ian you can’t tell Mum and Dad I’m serious, please.” I begged.

“Of course I have to tell them Ace.” He told me sternly. “It would kill them if you went through this without them.”

“No Ian it will kill them to see me like this, look at me.” I gestured at my face and Ian flinched, his face hard.

“I am looking at you Gwen, have been for the past week and a half. The image of you in this hospital bed, it’s burned into my brain. I won’t forget it, not until the day I die.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, I chided myself, I couldn’t be that emotional girl anymore, I had to be strong.

“Don’t you get it?” I whispered brokenly. “I can never take that away from you, I wish so badly I could. I can at least save Mum and Dad from having this.” I gestured to myself again, albeit awkwardly with my bulky cast, “Imprinted into their memories as well.”

Ian’s face softened and he reached down and touched my cheek. “Ace, how is it that you manage to worry so much about everyone else while you’re the one that’s been through hell?” He asked.

“Just lucky I guess.” I joked weakly.

“Gwen, this is not your fault. I can’t fucking believe you are finding some twisted fucking way to blame yourself!!” His voice vibrated with anger.

We were interrupted by the arrival of doctors and nurses, who do all my checkups, ask me lots of questions about where I live, what year it is, and who the president is. Luckily I got it all right, but I was more likely to remember who the president of Dior was.

A no nonsense doctor named Bruce informed me that I had a broken wrist (no shit Sherlock), a fractured skull, (the reason for my week and half long coma) four broken ribs, stitches on a cut on my cheek, and ‘superficial’ bruising covering most of my body. As well as suffering from internal bleeding which I almost died from. I had gingerly looked at my tender stomach, a bandage covering what would turn into a surgical scar. Ian was shaking with anger while the doctor told me this. Seeing my staunch brother so close to falling apart hurt more than the bruises on the outside. After the doctor left Ian sat on a chair with his head in his hands, silent for a long time before he looked at me, his face a mask.

“Gwen, the doctor said you weren’t, but I have to hear it from you. Did he…” He stopped, “Did he…” Ian choked on the words.

“Rape me?” I finished for him.

Ian flinched, then nodded sharply.

“No he didn’t, he came pretty close but the cops got there just in time.” I told him carefully eyes on my brother’s clenched fists.

“Ian…” I started, trying to think of a way to calm him down.

He pushed out of the chair so hard it cluttered to the ground noisily, he turned the wall throwing his fist at it, stopping before his hand made contact. I’d never seen my brother so angry, after being in the army for almost 12 years he had iron clad control over his temper, no matter how much anyone tried to rattle him, and right now it seemed like he was going to turn green and burst out of his clothes.

My brother and I were really close, always have been. Being five years older than me, Ian was my protector and best friend since the moment I was born. He walked me to school on my very first day, taught me how to ride my bike and the day he left for the army when I was 13 was one of the saddest days of my life.  We grew up in New Zealand, in a small town in nestled away from the realities of the real world, somewhere we felt safe and happy. Sure it was sheltered and the closest thing we had to couture was camouflage, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We an amazing childhood, loving parents, never wanted for anything and grew up in a beautiful country where we rode our bikes everywhere. Even when Ian grew into a teenager, with multiple girlfriends and unnatural talent for all sport, he never forgot me, never acted to ‘cool for me’. For a ten-year-old girl who looks up to her brother, that’s pretty damn special. A couple of years after Ian left, I started to get a bit wild. Mum and Dad didn’t know what to do with me, I drank a lot, got bad marks at school. Threw some pretty wild (legendary) parties and smoked a bit of weed. Nothing too out of the ordinary for kids my age but not what my parents expected of me. One night after a party, I stumbled drunk into my house with my boyfriend when my parents were away. I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, planning on loosing my virginity to a guy I didn’t love, but thought I had to do it sometime, I felt like the odd woman out amongst my sexually active friends. The guy started kissing me and pulling off my clothes as soon as we got in the front door, I kissed him back for a while until he grabbed at my dress trying to pull it up.

“No.” I slurred, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“Come on babe, don’t be a tease, you know you want to.” Trent whispered, grabbing at my dress and pushing me against a wall.

I started pushing at him. “No Trent.” I protested but he wouldn’t listen, my thoughts were slow from the alcohol. Suddenly the lights flickered on and I heard Ian’s bellow.

“What the FUCK?”

Trent was ripped off me and Ian held him by his collar driving his fist through his face. Trent slumped to the ground holding a bloody nose.

“Ian, shit did you break his nose? Oh man, I don’t want to clean that blood up.” I moaned stupidly.

Ian turned to me anger radiating off him. “You okay Ace?” He asked, using the nickname he’s had for me since before I can remember.

“Ummm yeah?” I looked at him expectantly, I hadn’t seen my brother in two years, this was not the situation I would have liked for his homecoming. He turned back to Trent yanking him up.

“If you lay a hand on my sister again, so much as look at her, I’ll kill you. Got it asshole?”

“What’s your fucking problem man, she’s my girlfriend.” Trent shot back, the idiot.

“I’d say by the way you were forcing herself on her she’s not you girlfriend anymore dickbrain, now get out of my sight before I fucking loose it.” Ian yelled. Trent took a quick glance at me, blood still pouring out his nose.

I shrugged, “It’s not me it’s you.”

He gave my brother a weary look then bolted.

“Great date!” I proclaimed sarcastically, and drunkenly. I turned back to Ian and threw myself into his arms. “It’s soooo good to see you,” I said sweetly. “ I missed you heaps!”

Ian squeezed me, then pulled back anger returning to his gaze. “Seriously Gwen, what would you have done if I wasn’t here? You’re wasted, that dress is too fucking short and Mum and Dad are gone, if I hadn’t stepped in…”

“Don’t worry so much Ian, its all worked out now, and your home!” I sang at him, my happy drunk buzz still firmly in place.

“Yeah I am, but I have no idea who I’m looking at right now Gwen. Drinking, partying, wearing clothes like that.” He spat, gesturing at my dress. “Mum and Dad have been telling me your grades are suffering, and you’re skipping school? I don’t know what’s going on with you Gwen but you need to sort your shit before you ruin your fucking life with actions you can’t take back.”

That was the only time I’d seen him really angry, and after seeing myself through his eyes I got my act together. Well not completely I still caused a bit of trouble, but I got my grades back on track and stopped my mother from going prematurely grey. The next time Ian saw me, I was doing pretty damn well for myself. I ended up getting a degree in Fashion Merchandising at university, my love of all things fashion being a part of me since I was old enough to dress myself. At 21 I graduated, moved to New York, got a job as a buyer for a department store and made myself a life. Ian stayed in the army, travelling around the world, coming to New York a couple of times to see me, then going back home to see Mum and Dad.  That got me to thinking, I had only seen Ian a couple of months ago, he was meant to be on tour for another 12 months.

“Ian, how did you get here? Aren’t you meant to be in some undisclosed location, water boarding terrorists and beating infidels into submission?”

Ian turned from the wall, breathing heavily, my question taking awhile to penetrate. He ran his hand through his lack of hair and sighed.

“Yeah, but I got and emergency call from Amy, she somehow got a hold of my number, that girl could run a country.” He joked tightly.

“Amy?” I asked.

Amy was my best friend and roommate. I met her on one of my first days in New York. I was out having a drink in some trendy bar alone, which was scary but I didn’t know anyone and was hoping to meet some awesome Sex And The City types and bond over Cosmos. I cringe thinking about my reasoning now that I was a savvy New Yorker, but back then I was a naïve country girl from New Zealand. I had only just taken my first sip when some greasy looking guy had sidled up to me and seriously couldn’t take no for an answer. After I had tried to politely decline his advances for the third time I began to feel little scared, not knowing a soul in the bar. Enter Amy.

“Oh my god babe, sorry I’m so late.” She breezed in, squeezing between the sleaze ball and me. I gazed at the gorgeous stranger with wide eyes as she took a sip of my drink.

“Andrew wanted me to tell you he got held up at the prison. They were just about to let him out when some guy made a comment about the photo of you he had in his bunk.” She put the drink down and raised an eyebrow at me. “Beat the shit out of some guy. Don’t worry they’re still letting him out just a little later.” She delivered this without a glance to the man beside her who was very pale and looked at me with wide eyes before darting away.

I regarded at the woman standing beside me, impressed. Her thick red hair was piled into a messy knot on top of her head. She had emerald green eyes an angular face and amazing skin. She was petite, but curvy in the right places. I was jealous, I wondered if she would divulge her diet and exercise secret to me if I brought her a cosmo.

Her outfit was straight off a runway, a white silk shirt tucked into a Balmain leather pencil skirt, and black Manolo Blahnik heels.

“Um thanks for that.” I blinked, trying to figure out what just happened.

She smiled at me. “No problemo girlfriend, this city is full of sleaze bags they would kick me out of the sisterhood if I didn’t do something about that. And I just got stood up, needed a drinking buddy. You’ve got good taste in cocktails, impeccable style and a cute wee foreign accent. You could just be my new best friend.”

And we had been, ever since.

“Yeah she was here almost as much as me but she’s ‘out getting supplies.’” Ian explained with finger quotes, bringing me back to the present.

As if on cue Amy thundered through the door arms full of flowers and shopping bags, followed by my other two friends, Ryan and his boyfriend Alex.

“Holy fuck! You’re finally awake! ” Amy screamed, dumping all the bags at her Jimmy Choo clad feet. She was dressed impeccably, in black leather pants, a slouchy tan tee with oversized black blazer on top and multiple gold necklaces strung around her neck. Even in a hospital bed I couldn’t help but appreciate her outfit.

She stared at me for a moment standing in the middle of the room.