Pieces For You (4 page)

“How do you know?”

“Because we won’t let it be any other way.”

I clung to her confident determination in the absence of my own.  Before I fell back to sleep, I mouthed a quick prayer, hoping she was right.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.  His weight was pressing down on me, trapping me, forcing branches and rocks to cut into my bare back.  I hurt—everywhere.  I could no longer discern between the various sources of pain; it was a tidal wave of agony I could not fight.  The sounds of his grunts echoed around me.  His smell, even through the hood, churned my stomach until I became ill.  I don’t want to die.  “Please.”

“Sam, wake up.”

The voice called to me—sweet, like an angel.  Was I dead this time?  Was it finally over?

“Sam, you need to wake up.  You can do this…fight your way back.”

Everleigh.  I could hear her calling to me.  I tried to find her but all I could see was pitch black.  I wheezed as my panic increased. 

“Dammit, Sam, you have to breathe.  Don’t you do this to me, you are stronger than this.”

The world shook and shards of light pierced the darkness.

“There you go, open your eyes.  You are safe, in the apartment.  Take a deep breath.”

Ev’s face appeared above me, concerned but not terrified—that was an improvement.

“Hey,” I whispered, my throat burning.

A glass of water appeared before me and I readily gulped the cooling relief.  I must have been screaming again.  She put her arm behind my back to support me as I continued to sip.  When the glass was empty, Ev took it from my shaking hands.

“Are you okay alone for a minute?  I want to refill the glass and grab my blankets.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“I’ll be right back.  I’ll leave the lights on for you.”

She slipped from my room and I heard her speaking with Hunter in hushed tones.

I lay back down and concentrated on isolating and relaxing each muscle, one by one.  Tension still held my body as tight as a guitar string.  The remnants of my panic were tangible, like boulders weighing down my limbs and restricting my breathing.  I despised my inability to control the episodes.  Rationally, I understood they were a normal reaction, even months after the attack.  But I resented myself for succumbing to the incapacitating fear—it was like he could still control my body…shit, not going there.  I would not think about him, about what he did…dammit!  I clenched my fist and hit my bed with the full force of my frustration.  I wanted to howl my anger, but I didn’t want Ev and Hunter to know the truth.  I couldn’t let them know how much effort I was exerting to cling to my sanity and claw my way back to normalcy.  The struggle required for me to suppress my panic, forget the night terrors, and project the illusion that I was the same girl they knew and loved was mentally exhausting.  That girl had been destroyed, shattered—not cracked or chipped, but completely obliterated into millions of tiny specks.  I had regained pieces of Old Sam, but I knew I would never be able to collect all of the fragments.  I would never be whole again, and I had no clue what could fill the gaps that remain. 

I grunted as the ache of my fingernails piercing my palms registered.  The pain was grounding, but I had learned not to court the fleeting comfort of pain to alleviate my inner turmoil. 

When Ev returned, she must have thought I was already asleep because she silently arranged her pallet on the floor at the foot of my bed.  Soon after, her soft snore filled the room, and I listened to the strangely comforting sound for hours before finally drifting to sleep.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.  A loud crack, the only warning, seconds before excruciating pain exploded in my abdomen.  Again.  Again.  Oh god, make it stop—I’ll do anything to make it stop.  A whoosh of air and the world began to fade, my mind and my body both shutting down.  I don’t want to die.  “Please.”

“Sam, wake up.”

The world shook and my eyes popped open.  I blinked against the jarring light, trying to focus on Ev’s face.  She was wearing a slight smile tonight.

“It was better this time, easier to wake you up.”

“That’s good,” I said without enthusiasm.

“It’s been three nights since the last one—you’re getting better.  Be patient with yourself.”

She hugged me tightly and stroked the back of my head, just like her mother used to when I was hurt.  There was nothing I wouldn’t give to have Meme here.  She’d know how to make me feel better, if only for a little while. 

“I miss Meme,” I shared softly.

“Me too.  She would be able to help you so much better than I can.”

“Ev, you have been better than any friend or sister could ever be.  I just…sometimes I just want my mom, even if she wasn’t really mine.”

“Oh, Sam.  She was your mom just as much as mine and loved you with all her heart.  She chose you as a surrogate daughter—that is how special you are.”

We both wiped tears from our cheeks.  It had been a while since we talked about Meme, about how much we missed her.  As much as I wished she was here to hold me and mother me, Ev must wish she was here to share the burden I had become. 

“I’ll go get my blankets.  Be right back.”

“No.”  I grabbed her arm to stop her.  “I’m okay tonight.  I think I can go back to sleep alone.”

“Really?  Are you sure?  I don’t mind staying.”

“I’m positive, but thank you.  You are a better friend, a better sister, than I deserve.”

“Don’t be stupid.  I’ll remind you of what you once said to me: ‘I’ve done nothing for you that you haven’t or wouldn’t do for me.  You have been my shoulder to lean on enough times—it‘s my turn.’”

With a hug and a kiss on the top of my head, she left me with the impact of my own words from when her mom—our mom—died.

Everything I endured during the past few months of suffering, at least I had someone to blame.  I could point a finger, seek justice.  He would not go unpunished for what he had done to me and the others.  I would fight back the way I couldn’t last time—fight to keep him from ever hurting another human being and fight to regain every piece of me that he destroyed.  There was no justice for Meme, however, nowhere to point the finger of blame.  It was her own body that betrayed her.  She never had the opportunity to ‘fix’ herself.  She would miss every milestone and celebration she ever looked forward to sharing with us: college graduation, weddings, and children.  She was denied the opportunity I had been given—a chance to live—so I would do it for both of us and be there to share with Ev every single joy Meme would miss. 

I quietly cried myself to sleep, not because of the terrors or the reminder of the tragedy I suffered, but because I missed the only mother I had ever known. 

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.  His laughter was causing me to shudder; my fear so pronounced it had a taste, smell, color.  I don’t want to die.  “Please.”

I shot upright in my bed, trembling and coated in a sheen of sweat.  I was okay.  Safe, I reminded myself.  Freakin-A!  I had done it, managed to wake myself up—drag myself out of the nightmare.  My therapists at TCP had promised the day would come where I would have enough control to do just this, but I never believed them.  I didn’t dare to hope.  I was actually getting better.

Physically, I was almost back to normal; the scars that remained were mostly hidden and the few more obvious markings could be easily erased with minor plastic surgery.  I was lucky.  The wounds on my mind and soul were still healing, but those were invisible—I could choose to whom I revealed them.  I scrubbed and cleaned, dressed and protected, exposed and let them breathe, until they finally began to scab over and heal.  For the most part, they were simply scars, no longer festering wounds making me ill and spreading toxicity throughout my body. 

I smiled a small, self-satisfied smile.  That’s right, bitches…I can do this.  You don’t control me—I’m in charge here.

I snuggled under my comforter and identified the unfamiliar feeling bubbling within me—hope. 

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.  I don’t want to die.  “Please.”

“Sam, wake up.”

I opened my eyes, shaking my head to dispel the dream.  Ev and Hunter’s faces smiled back at me.  Ah, I was being double-teamed.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. 

I was disappointed to have broken my record of five consecutive nights of peaceful sleep.  Dammit, I was doing so well.  Why tonight? 

“Don’t be ridiculous.  There’s no reason for you to apologize.  Besides, if you hadn’t woken me, Hunter would have with his snoring,” Ev placated.

“I do not snore.  If you want to relieve her of the unnecessary guilt, then invent your own shortcomings, don’t drag me into it,” Hunter teased while squeezing her against him.  “And Sam is well aware that
you
are the one who snores.”

“I do not snore!  I just breathe very heavily when I sleep,” Ev countered.  This argument had become familiar in the weeks since my return.

“Angel, I’ve heard you breathe heavy many times, much to my delight, but the sounds you make while sleeping cannot be classified as anything other than snoring.”

“Don’t be an ass.  I. Do. Not. Snore.”

“Sorry Ev, but Hunter is right.  You do snore when you are sick or completely wiped.  Loudly,” I contributed to the debate.

“Well, thank you for your uninvited opinion, Judge Judy.  I see how it is.  Everyone is just going to gang up on me since neither of you can take me on your own.  It’s pathetic really, but I accept the shallow victory nonetheless.” 

Hunter raised an eyebrow at Ev.  “Victory?  That is a stretch, even for you.  I don’t recall seeing any points on the board under your tally.”

“You keep it up, Mr. Charles, and you’ll be finishing out your night on the couch.”

“Ev, if you’ve taught me anything, it’s to never make idle threats.  You and I both know there is no way you are making that fine man sleep on the couch.  Just look at him…all shirtless and drool-worthy, with those tantalizingly low pajama pants.”  I pretended to eye the portion of Hunter’s body not obstructed by Ev’s.