Scars (20 page)

It’s Carolyn, waving to me from the front of the crowd. I stop, the policewoman stopping with me. “That’s my therapist! I need to see her.”

“You need to get checked out, first; you’ve just been shot,” the officer says.

“What I need is my therapist.” I say, clutching the blanket around my shoulders and shaking even harder.

The officer must see the panic in my eyes because she nods at the cop to let Carolyn through.

I run to her, and she hugs me close. “Kendra! Oh Kendra, I’m glad you’re okay!”

“Carolyn. I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, laughing and crying at the same time. I lean into her, my shoulder throbbing, and Carolyn holds me tighter.

Then I glance back at the ambulance. There’s Mom, sitting on the ambulance’s rear step, talking to the paramedics, not once even glancing my way.

Carolyn rocks me, and I close my eyes, letting everything else float away. Carolyn might never be my mother, but she gives me so much more than Mom ever has. She gives me what I need. And that makes her my mother in my heart.

Carolyn holds my head and looks into my eyes. “I was so worried about you,” she whispers.

“You called the police, didn’t you?” I ask.

“After what you told me, and with your father so agitated at our meeting—and then I couldn’t reach you on your cell or at home—I just didn’t know what else to do!”

“You saved me,” I say, squeezing her tight. “That’s what you did!”

Carolyn kisses the top of my head. “From what I hear, you saved yourself.”

“Kendra!” Meghan calls out.

I look around, not seeing her. Then I hear grunts and complaints in the crowd as people are jostled and shoved. Meghan elbows her way up close to where we’re standing

“Please, could you—” I say to the officer, who looks
amused as she ushers Meghan through. Carolyn lets me go, and Meghan rushes to me, turning her back to the crowd. I open my arms and she holds me—so tight I can hardly breathe.

“I was coming over to find out why you weren’t in school when I saw all the cops!” Meghan says. “God, Kendra—are you all right?” I feel her rapid heartbeat against me, her worry and love so strong. I kiss her gently, then turn to Carolyn for introductions. “Carolyn, this is Meghan. Meghan, Carolyn.”

They shake hands and make some awkward small talk. I watch them, feeling almost high. I’m alive—and two of the people I care about most are right here beside me.

“Are you all right?” Meghan asks again.

“I am now.”

“Kendra!” Mom calls from the ambulance. “They want to check you over.”

I roll my eyes at Meghan and Carolyn, but Mom calls again, her voice shrill and insistent.

“I should get over there,” I say.

Meghan moves closer to me. “I’m goin’ along with you.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Carolyn says. She hesitates. “Would you like me to come, too?”

“Yes!” I say. “I mean—if you don’t mind. I know it’s weird, since we’re not in session—”

“I’ll make an exception this time,” Carolyn says, smiling warmly. “It’s important, and I want to be here for you.”

I walk over to the ambulance, Meghan on one side, Carolyn on the other. I feel stronger and taller, just walking between the two of them.

I look over at Dad, hunched up, sitting in the back of the cop car.
You won’t hurt any more kids now—not if I can help it.

Dad raises his head, almost as if he hears my thoughts. I meet his gaze without flinching, and he looks away first.

A paramedic motions for me to take off the blanket, then pushes my flapping sleeve aside. He peers beneath the bandage as I stare up at the grey sky.

“I’m fine. You guys already took care of this.”

“We just want to be sure. With a gunshot wound, we have to be careful that everything’s all right. Do you feel any dizziness? Are you at all light–headed?”

“No—I’m fine.”

“You didn’t tell me you were shot!” Meghan cries, pressing her hands to her chest.

I start to laugh; I just can’t help myself. Meghan and Carolyn are staring at me, then they’re laughing, too.

“I don’t see what you all have to laugh about,” Mom says crossly. And that makes us laugh even harder.

Carolyn wipes the tears from her eyes. “Forgive me, Mrs. Marshall. Sometimes laughter is a good release in situations like this.”

Mom frowns disapprovingly, but she looks a bit less offended.

Then the police officer who’s been watching us adjusts her belt. “If you’re both okay, we’d like to take you down to the station for questioning.”

That pretty much quells my laughter.

“Is that really necessary right now?” Carolyn asks the police officer. “Kendra’s just been through a major trauma—”

“Most folks find it easier to get it over with, rather than
have it looming,” the policewoman says. “Besides, we’re more likely to get something that will stick to the perp if we can get all the info while it’s fresh in everyone’s minds. The most I could give her is a few hours—but she wouldn’t be able to talk with anyone during that time. We want to be sure we get her testimony, not anyone else’s.”

Carolyn rests her hand on my shoulder. “What do you think, Kendra? It’s really up to you.”

Mom purses her lips, but she doesn’t say anything. She just leans her head back against the ambulance doors, and I wonder if they’ve given her a sedative.

“Can they come with me?” I ask, motioning toward Carolyn and Meghan.

The officer hooks her thumbs into her belt. “Were they with you when the incident occurred? Are the two of them actual witnesses?”

“No, but—”

“Then I’m afraid they can’t go with you. This is strictly a police matter now.”

I can’t handle this. I need to cut. Need to cut so badly.

Carolyn squares her shoulders. “I’m Kendra’s therapist. I had a session with Kendra first thing this morning, then a meeting with her and her parents, where I witnessed the offender’s volatile behavior. I’m also the one who called you, and I’m sure I can help your case.”

The officer starts to speak, but Carolyn just keeps right on talking. I almost want to laugh, seeing Carolyn steamroll over the officer. I’ve never seen her like this. It makes me feel protected. Safe.

“And furthermore, Kendra’s mother is in no condition
to give her any kind of emotional support, and Kendra will surely need it after all she’s been through. I’m prepared to be there for her and to forestall any possible problems—such as panic attacks or emotional outbursts.” Winking at me, she goes on: “I’ll cancel my morning clients so I can be with Kendra.”

The officer unhooks her thumbs from her belt, looking like she knows she’s met her match. “All right, I guess we can use your account of earlier events leading up to the incident.”

“I’m her girlfriend,” Meghan says, gripping my hand. “And I’m not letting her go without me.”

The officer shakes her head. “I’m sorry, young lady, but you’ll have to meet up with her later.”

Meghan’s fists ball up, and she looks like she might actually punch the cop.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper. “Carolyn’ll be there. Besides, I’ll really need you later. I’ll call you when we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Promise?” Meghan says.

“Promise.”

We hug one more time, and the officer leads us to her squad car. Mom gets in beside her, and Carolyn and I get in the back.

I wave to Meghan as the car pulls away, until I can’t see her any more. Then I turn to Carolyn. “Thank you. I don’t know how to say it enough—but thank you for everything today.”

“That’s all right,” Carolyn says. “I’m glad I could be here.”

I lean my head against her shoulder, and she puts her arm around me all the way to the station.

They let Carolyn sit in with me during the entire interview, through all the questioning. When the pain and fear get too bad, I just look over at her and somehow that gives me the strength to keep going.

The detective is gentle with me, backing off when the shame and terror choke my voice off or when the shadows rip through my mind. And always, Carolyn is there. “Are you willing to talk about this in court, in front of a jury?” the detective asks. “I won’t lie to you; it’s a difficult, wrenching process, and it’s not set up to be kind to victims. Some witnesses even say it feels like being raped all over again. But I’ll work to prepare you. I think you can do it; you’re a very gutsy girl.”

The detective looks at me over her glasses, her eyes intense. “If you’re willing to testify in court, I think we can put your father away for a few years—and keep him from hurting anyone else.”

That’s what I want, what I’ve always wanted—to be safe and to make sure others are, too. I take a deep, shaky breath. “Okay.”

“You sure? It won’t be easy.”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly, and I mean it.

“Good,” the detective says, making a note on her pad.

Carolyn squeezes my hand. “I’m proud of you.”

And so am I.

Carolyn checks her watch, her face scrunching up. “I really should get going.”

“We’re just about finished here,” the detective assures her.

“It’s okay, really,” I say, and give Carolyn a hug.

Carolyn holds my arms, looking deep into my eyes. Reassured, she nods. “Call me if you need me,” she says.

I watch her go, feeling a slight wrench, but I mostly feel okay. Because I know she’s going to be part of my life for a long time.

Then I answer a few more questions for the detective.

“Well, I think that’s it,” she says, putting her notebook down. “You’ll just have to wait for your mom. I have some work to do, but you’re welcome to stay here in my office with me. If not, you can wait on the bench down the hall.”

As nice as the detective’s been, it’s hard having a stranger probe into things that I’ve only ever told Carolyn and Meghan.

“Thanks—but the bench will be fine.”

She smiles at me, showing she understands, then walks me down the hall.

As we pass a closed door, I hear Mom screaming and crying. Sounds like they didn’t give her sedatives after all.

The detective glances at me and picks up her pace.

The wooden bench is deserted—just the way I want it. I’m done talking to people, at least for now.

“Can I get you anything?” the detective asks. “A soft drink, tea, or a sandwich?”

I shake my head no.
I just want to go home.
I sink onto the bench, exhausted.

“Your mom shouldn’t be much longer.” The detective smiles at me, we say good-bye, and she heads back to her office.

I sit and wait. Now that I’m alone, shadows start filling my brain. I tear at the skin around my fingernail.

Everyone’s been kind to me, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve done something wrong. Maybe it’s because I’m sitting in a police station. Or maybe it’s because Dad used to say they’d lock me up if they ever found out. Ha. He’s the one who did something wrong.

I listen to the clicking of keyboards, the clatter of footsteps, the voices that rise and fall. And every time a siren wails, I tense up. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s over. He can never hurt me again.

Twenty minutes pass, then a half hour. Then forty-five minutes. I start to feel uneasy and alone.

I wish I could call Carolyn and ask her to come back. But she’s already given me so much, and I know I can get through this by myself. I can call her tomorrow—and every day until my session if I want. And maybe I will.

The detective comes back down the hall and sits on the bench beside me. She smooths out her skirt, then says, “Your mom will be out soon; she’s just going over some last details.”

More like she’s still freaking out.

“You sure you don’t want anything to eat? Food can be helpful after a shock like this.”

I wrap my arms around myself, saying, “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

“It’ll get better, Kendra. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now—but it will.”

I smile at the detective and try to keep myself from crying again. My dad’s going to be charged, all because of me—

No, not because of me. Because of what
he
did.

“I know it’ll get better,” I say. And even though I don’t really know it, somehow I still believe it.

The detective pats my knee, then stands up. “You’re a brave girl, Kendra,” she says softly. “I wish there were more like you in the world.”

“Thanks.” I blink fast and she starts off down the hall. I turn away—and then I see Sandy striding toward me, his face tight and worried.

I stagger to my feet, and he opens his arms, pulling me into a hug. It was never Sandy—just my own jackass of a dad.

I lean into Sandy, breathing in his clay, soap, and cologne smell, and I feel myself finally relax. I’m so glad it wasn’t him. So glad I know for sure now.

“Your mom called me,” Sandy says in a choked voice. “I’m so sorry, Kendra. I should have realized—”

“How could you?” I say, pulling away so I can see his face. “I didn’t even know it myself. I mean, I shoved it away so far and so deep, I didn’t remember—”

Sandy smooths back my hair. “It was in your art, Kendra. Your abuser always in the shadows—I knew it meant you couldn’t face who it was. I suspected it was somebody you knew, but I had no idea who. And your dad—he just comes off so well, I never suspected him. If only I’d made you talk about it sooner—”