Rose of Betrayal (3 page)

           
The
gloom that had wrapped around her like a blanket shielding her from the horror
that took place again dissipated leaving in its wake an unbearable misery.
 
Life’s blood oozing from her body became iron
chains restricting any movement.
 
Persistent premonitions swirling like a dust storm warned there was
little time to summon help.

Despite the failure of
several previous brave attempts rendering her unconscious, Sam knew giving up
was no option, not this time, not if she wanted to live. Calling upon
determination as armor against panic provided the edge desperately required to
concentrate once more on the cell phone mere inches away.
 
The slow slight movements were so
excruciating shrieks of anger whittled away at stamina, “Goddamn you, Brad, why
did you leave us?
 
Why are you not
here?
 
I need you.
 
Damn you to hell,” she cursed.
                    

Lying helpless on a
massive circular bed, in spite of the salty tears streaking cheeks and stinging
open wounds, the force within kept urging her on.
 
“Come on, Sam, you can do it.
 
You have to.
 
Now reach, reach, that's it, a little bit more, that's it, now!”
 

At a snail's pace, a
folded leg implored a foot to nudge her body closer to the lifeline. This time
she could not give into the darkness threatening, she couldn’t.
 
Prevailing newfound strength allowed thin
quaking fingers to cling to the phone long enough to beg for help.
 
Efforts that extinguished her last ounce of
strength and brought welcomed enveloping blackness.
 

           
Gliding
in and out of consciousness, Sam had no idea how much time had elapsed before
hearing her name.
 
“I'm here.
  
Is it you, Ralph?
 
Oh, thank God,” she cried.

           
The
journey to the hospital was pure anguish.
 
She could feel her lips moving, heard the desperate words screamed at
the interrogating strangers frantically working above her, still they ignored
her pitiful cries.
  
“Brad.
 
I want Brad.
 
Please . . . Please, do not touch me.
 
Get Brad.
 
Leave me alone.
 
You're hurting me.”
 

Explosions of pain that were tossing her thoughts about
thrashing her head from side to side.
 
In
the grasp of misery, forcing swollen, blackened eyelids open she struggled to
view her surroundings, the bright lights, loud voices, the
bed beneath that propelling so forcefully she
vomited unmercifully.
 
A pinprick
bringing a rush to her veins finally eliminated the urge and induced surging
warmth that thankfully replaced the torment with peace.
 
With death refusing to release, its tenacious
grip patiently waiting to seal her fate she floated through a long, dark tunnel
clinging to a delicate strand of hope.

At the end of the
tunnel, she released a sigh filled with tremendous relief. “It's over, finally
over,” she murmured as apparitions burst before her of familiar people, places,
memories of happy days, and the torture of the bad.
 
Searching the maze, her eyes locked on those
of another who stood out from the gathering.
 
Before her, yet, so, far away, mouth curved into a devilish grin that
deepened the cleft in his chin, she saw Brad.

           
 
“You came for me.
 
Oh, how I have missed you.
 
Hold me.
 
Touch me.
 
Are you real,” she
cried.
  
Quaking fingers stretching to
touch his golden face released an ocean of blue that spilled over fabricating
waves washing her cheeks and generating puddles on sterile sheets, waiting
impatiently for the kiss that would surely come, bluish lips, long abandoned by
a smile amazingly curled at the corners.
 
Running, arms outstretched, yelling her name, Brad closed the
distance.
 
“Princess, I'm here.
 
Come to me.”
 
Each heartbeat bringing them closer made her feel as though she were
driftwood riding a tidal wave swollen with memories.

           
Technicians
working frantically to save Sam's life were astonished when her limp arms
suddenly raised and reached out.
 
Exchanging bewildered gazes, they watched a smile grace the battered
face, the tears slipping from the corners of her eyes.
 
Inspections abruptly interrupted by a blaring
alarm bringing their full attention to the machine warning of emanate
doom.
 
Erupting chaos propelled Sam on
her journey.

CHAPTER 4

“SEPTEMBER 2010”

           
Thirty
thousand feet, Sam mused, shaking her head in disbelief as she recalled her
trips to and from college on a bus or train due to her fear of flying.
 
The decision was difficult enough, boarding
the huge beast, practically impossible.
 
Now, settled inside, her chest swelled with gratification for having met
the challenge.
 

           
With
decorum of indecision, she stood at the boarding ramp unaware of the flight
attendant approaching.
 
“This is your
first time, isn't it?”

The pleasant voice made
her turn.
 
“Is it that obvious,” Sam's
question a timid whisper, her face awash with embarrassment.
 

           
Wearing
a warm smile, the attractive young woman continued, “The weather is clear all
the way to New York with no turbulence expected.
 
I can guarantee you the flight will be
smoother than the cab ride on the way to your hotel.”

           
Regarding
the nametag on the attendant’s fresh, tailored uniform, Sam offered her hand.
 
“Thank you, Barb.
 
I really needed encouragement.
 
My name is Samantha.”

“It's a pleasure, Samantha.
 
Allow me to show you to your seat.”

           
Bulging
eyes, a queasy stomach, and an escalated heart rate topped the long list of
Sam's discomforts.
  
With her feet
feeling riveted to the floor, she distracted herself by inspecting fellow
passengers forcing each step as she followed the attendant.

The enormous plane
allowed seating for more passengers than she ever imagined.
 
Unbelievable was the chaos-taking place as
men and women elbowed each other while cramming unimaginable shaped belongings
into the overhead compartments before claiming their seats.
 
She wondered why thousands would subject
themselves to such stress on a daily basis, once was enough for her.
 
How she would return did not matter, she
would walk if she had to before giving into such insane abuse again.

Thoughts temporarily
set aside by women dressed in the latest styles and fabrics with beauty shop
coiffures, artistically applied makeup, and the longest artificial nails she
had ever seen.
 
Chills shot up her spine
as she envisioned the possibility that one day they may be wearing one of her
designs.

With a wave of her
hand, Barb exclaimed, “Here we are.
 
You
will be able to see everything from your window seat, Samantha.
 
Trust me you will love it.
 
Try to relax and if I can be of any further
assistance, let me know.”
  
Wearing a
wide smile, Barb patted Sam's shoulder while reminding her to fasten the seat
belt snugly.
            

           
“Sure,”
Sam muttered to herself, “Great, wonderful, a window seat so I can watch myself
crash.”
 
Squeezing her eyes closed, she
babbled, “I can't do this.”
 
Moreover,
for the first time since making the decision, she wondered if Ted was worth the
wear and tear on her nerves.

           
Clutching
her prized portfolio under one arm, the book impetuously garnered off the
newsstand under the other, without mishap she managed to store a small suitcase
overhead.
 
Considering the book in hand
though reading was improbable now, she felt she would need a diversion
later.
 
Less than lady like, she settled
into a seat much too close and uncomfortable in her opinion.
  
Positioning valuables on her lap, the several
seconds of fumbling for the seat belt unnerved her further.
 
What an idiot she was, she upbraided
herself.
 
Closing her eyes, she continued
to mumble, “Well, let's get this over with.
 
If I'm going to die, I don't want to think about it long.”
 

Roaring engines
increased anxiety, calming the shaking that followed required several deep,
slow breaths and persistent scolding.
 
“Don't be silly.
 
You are being
ridiculous.
 
Where is your spunk, and
determination?”
 
Oblivious to brave
attempts at positive thinking, Sam's fingers wet with perspiration clung to the
armrests so tightly surely, their impressions would infinitely remain.
 
Moments later, she gave Barb her undivided
attention, and if asked, could recite the survival speech word for word.
 
A speech completely erased by the plane
creeping forward to begin what she deemed a flight of doom.

           
 
Although her attempts were admirable, natural
curiosity slowly opened her eyes.
 
The
force of the plane taking off thrusting her slight body against the cushion
stole her breath.
 
Her nails dug deeper
into the armrests, her legs so stiff surely, they punctured the floor.
 
Under verbal attack, was the alien force
encouraging her to peer out the window?
 
Just as the plane banked her eyelids screwed, shut as she desperately
fought the urge to regurgitate what little nourishment her stomach contained.
 
Thankfully, no one sat beside her.
 
The person would no doubt believe her to be
an imbecile.
 
“Nice going, Samantha,” she
sputtered.
  

           
Amazingly
when the plane leveled off, she felt little motion.
 
Burrowed into the seat she concentrated on the
steady drone of the engines unconsciously relaxing her twisted muscles.
 
The book, long forgotten, had slipped from
her lap.

           
Finally
gathering enough nerve, glancing out the window the floating mountains of
clouds dusted with sun's gold held her captivated.
 
A blue backdrop adding to the mystical
ambience brought on a sensation of what it might be like to enter heaven's
wonderland a picture perfect scene that managed to eliminate her fear.

           
When
collecting the lunch tray, Sam thanked Barb for the meal that was quite tasty
and filling considering at first she believed it to be a meager portion.
 
Upon awaking at five in the morning thoughts
of Ted had jerked her nerves into knots making eating impossible.
 
           

           
It
had only been one month since Ted left.
 
Time that had passed at a snail's pace making coming this far seem
unrealistic.
 
Now, she remembered the
unfavorable deliberations with her parents.
         

           
Sarah
and Jim were unprepared for the departure of their daughter to a cosmopolitan
city.
 
Pursuing a career was one thing,
her intentions of moving in with Ted, another.
 
Their only child was flying off to New York to live with a man she had
only known for a month.
   
Numerous
attempts at dissuading their daughter were futile.
  
Sam had inherited their traits of
stubbornness and independence.
 

           
The night before Sam's departure,
while Jim held Sarah in the quiet comfort of their bed, tears flowed
freely.
 
A deep consoling voice
whispered, “It's time, Sarah.
 
We have to
let go.
 
Sam is in love, remember how
strong those feelings are, my sweet.
 
How
strong they still can be after twenty-eight years?
 
If we don't, we'll lose her forever, a loss
neither of us could survive.”