Her Story



By Christina Casinelli



Gradible Publishing





Gradible Publishing


The availability of student loans has drastically increased access to higher education for lower and middle class Americans, but with $1.2 Trillion in outstanding debt and a difficult job market, our generation is struggling to make those monthly payments.



Gradible Publishing is a one-of-a-kind indie publishing label designed to help graduates with student loan debt earn their way out faster by publishing original works on Amazon.



Every book was created by graduates on Gradible.com and every sale supports our mission to provide US college graduates with flexible, alternative ways to earn their way out of debt faster.



Learn more about our mission at Gradiblepublishing.com





Copyright © 2014 by Gradible Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. Reviews may quote brief passages in reviews.



Disclaimer. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the publisher. While all attempts have been made to verify the information provided in this publication, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or contrary interpretations of the subject matter herein.





Chapter 1



The day had finally come. She was trying so hard to hold back her tears as the ever infamous tune came roaring out of the church organ and her father grabbed her trembling hand in his. They assumed their place at the back entrance of the church. She stared ahead at the double doors, which were still slightly swinging after the last of her bridesmaids had started her trek down the aisle. �ŚOne foot in front of the other,’ she thought. �ŚJust keep putting one foot in front of the other.’ She looked at her father and smiled nervously. He looked back at her with sharp eyes and pursed lips, linked her arm in his, and with a collective deep breath they began to walk toward the altar.



She spun the tiny diamond that rested in gold set on her left ring finger and began to wonder how it was she came to this point in her life. This was not part of her plan. This wasn’t where she had pictured herself five years earlier. Memories of girls’ weekends and college reunions, faces of past loves and lovers all floated through her memory as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other, cautious not to be walking too quickly. As her mother had consistently reminded her, a lot of money had been spent on her wedding gown, so she better let everyone that was there get a good look at a dress she was only going to wear once. Buried under layers of taffeta and tulle, she let her mind wander as her father led her forward.



James. He had had a very handsome, chiseled face, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sparkling white smile. They had been high school sweethearts, but after graduation he enlisted in the Army, and they had agreed that it was best for both of them if they called it quits. They had kept in touch briefly after she had gone away to college, but it had been years since she had heard from him, never mind of him. Knowing James, he was probably married with kids and settled down. That had been his plan anyway. He had always wanted to be a husband and father. She secretly thought it always had something to do with the fact that his own father was never around. She also believed that was one of the things that would make him an amazing parent and partner.



Then there was Nathan. They had met during her second year of college and they were soon inseparable. They had joined student government together. They ate almost all of their meals together. They studied together. They were head-over-heels in love with each other. Well, at least she had been head-over-heels in love with him. However, after a year and a half of (what she perceived to be) bliss, he stopped meeting with her for meals. He started skipping out on their study dates. All this happened so abruptly, and she couldn’t quite understand why. That was until she met Jenifer. Jennifer was a very tall, very beautiful, very popular graduate student. And they had met for the first time when she had finally gathered the courage to show up to Nathan’s apartment unannounced. Needless to say, she saw more of Jennifer than she had ever wanted to see. Nathan had begged her to forgive him, told her if had just been that one time. He called, sent flowers, tried to enlist the help of her friends in his efforts to win her back. Even Jenifer tried to talk to her and apologize. She wasn’t having any of it. She sank into a deep depression. She almost failed out that last semester. She considered dropping out and moving home. But luckily, she had amazing roommates, who, through late night talks and numerous bottles of wine, slowly stitched her back together.



Over the next couple years there had been minor relationships, but they weren’t anything too serious. Nothing that lasted more than a couple of dates. Nothing she was willing to get too invested in. Then she met Kyle. They were introduced at a party through mutual friends after she accepted a new job and returned to her home state. He was a big guy, a Providence police officer, and had played football in high school somewhere out west. He had followed his high school sweetheart to Rhode Island when she had been accepted to RISD, and even though their relationship had fizzled, he had fallen in love with the state and never left.



There was something different about Kyle. He had a smile that just lit up the room and drew her to him. He was exactly what she needed, but had never known she wanted, in a boyfriend. He was thoughtful, but not too mushy. He was sarcastic, but not in a hurtful way. He kept her on her toes, but was never condescending. They got along wonderfully, hardly ever arguing, and after two years they decided to move in together. The year that followed in that tiny, one bedroom apartment was the happiest year of her life. They cooked meals for each other and read together in bed at night. Well, at least the nights that he was home. There was always a case that needed his attention, or a promotion he was chasing. Eventually his job took a toll on their relationship, and they decided to take a break. Or, well, she had decided. After the third week in a row of him pulling extra shifts she had slowly packed up her belongings and moved in with an old friend from high school. He had barely noticed her belongings were gone until she came back for her collection of books and the sofa.



It was during this break that she had met Linus, the man standing up at the altar, waiting ever so patiently for her to reach him and have her father pull back her veil, kiss her cheek, and give her away. Linus was an accountant. He was very tall, very skinny, and very meek looking, yet very strong. Linus was extremely uptight, and obsessed over the smallest details. He wasn’t necessarily a liar per say, but massively over exaggerated the tiniest detail. He wasn’t exactly a prude, but their senses of humor just weren’t in line. They argued constantly, and there were so many things about him that annoyed her beyond belief. Yet he had asked her to marry him, and she had said yes.



They too had been introduced through mutual friends, in a sense. That mutual friend just happened to be a bartender at a local watering hole at which she had become a regular. Linus had been his roommate. They did have the same basic interests. They were both sports fans, even though they never rooted for the same team. They both loved movies, even though she liked to go out to the theater to see new movies, and he was more than content to just sit at home and watch the same ones over and over again, quoting the lines along with the script. A love for music was also something they also had in common, but then again their definitions of music weren’t even close to similar. Yet he had asked her to marry him, and she had said yes.



And now here they were, standing in front of a least 150 of their closest friends and family members, getting ready to make an eternal commitment. Though she wasn’t devoutly religious, she still didn’t believe in divorce. This was it. This was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.



He snored. Could she really marry a man that snored? But then again, what’s to say she didn’t snore? Kyle didn’t snore, that was for sure. She stared straight ahead, not at Linus, not at the pastor, not even at the stained glass window behind the altar, but just straight ahead. What was she doing? Why was she doing this? Linus wasn’t the right one for her, she knew that, and half of the people sitting in the pews with tears in their eyes probably knew it too. Her mother definitely knew it, and had been very vocal about this fact throughout the entire wedding planning process. Then what was she doing here? Why wasn’t she running out of the church and jumping on the back of a Fed-Ex truck like Julia Roberts in �śRunaway Bride?”



Finally, they had made it to the front of the church. Her father placed her hand in Linus’, pushed back her veil, and kissed her ever so lightly on the cheek before turning and plopping himself down quickly and awkwardly beside her mother in the first pew. Linus smiled at her and she did her best to smile back. They turned toward the pastor, and she took a deep breath. �śDearly beloved,” the pastor began. Linus reached over ever so gently, and lightly placed his hand on the small tummy that she had begun to develop and had been attempting to hide under all of the white taffeta and silk. �śWe are gathered here today�Ś.”





Chapter 2

She rolled over to her alarm clock blaring. She had no idea how long it had been going off for, all she knew was that she was running late. She was always late, but today was an important day. Or at least that’s what he had told her. She couldn’t understand why he had to be so vague. After fumbling around on her night stand she finally silenced the screeching alarm. She rolled back over, accidentally slamming her elbow into the shirtless back of Jim. Or was it Mike? Whatever, it was one of her bar regulars and he had been here before. He knew the drill. He’d show himself out. He groaned and flopped over onto his side, facing away from her and toward the window. She had completely forgotten he was there.



Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed an oversized t-shirt off of the floor and pulled it over her head. She rummaged around in the drawer of the night stand and found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She popped one in between her lips and dragged a Strike-Anywhere match across the base of the bedside lamp, bringing it to the tip of the Pall Mall dangling between her lips and inhaled deeply.



Stumbling into the kitchen she absentmindedly put on a pot of coffee, leaned against the counter, and stared at it until it slowly began to drip, never lowering the cigarette from her mouth. She really needed to get a new one of those. But then again, she thought that every morning and it had yet to materialize on her counter. She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall above the door. Fuck! She tossed her cigarette into the sink, jumped into the jeans hanging over the back of the closest kitchen chair, grabbed her moccasins and car keys with sweaty palms and ran out the door.



She jumped into the driver seat of her black Ford Focus, shoving her feet into her shoes as she reached into the center console, searching for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter than lived there. She had about 10 minutes to make it across town, and that was with the token 10-15 minutes he always assumed she’d be late. He wasn’t going to be happy with her. She threw the car in reverse, lit her cigarette, and backed quickly down the driveway and onto the silent fall morning street.



Weaving in and out of traffic she navigated the oh-so-familiar roadways to the same beat up diner she had frequented on so many Sunday mornings.



She knew right where he’d be as soon as she walked in – at the end of the counter, furthest from the door, a day-old Providence Journal newspaper folded over several times with the crossword puzzle already half-filled in by its previous owner in his hand. Chances are he was already on his third cup of coffee. Given how late she was running it might even have been his fourth. If they had still been allowed to smoke in restaurants, he would’ve had an overflowing ashtray in front of him as well. That was the first thing she had noticed when she had walked into this same diner almost 15 years earlier and found him in the same exact seat.



�śYou’re late,” he growled, as she meekly slid onto the stool next to him.



�śI know, I know. I’m sorry John.”



�śIt wouldn’t kill you to be on time ya’ know. It also wouldn’t kill you to”



�śNot going to happen,” she cut him off. She refused to call him dad. He shrugged. It wasn’t going to stop him from trying.



The waitress walked up, placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of her and poured hot coffee from an overused pot into John’s cup. �śThe usual?” She asked. They both nodded and she turned on her heels, back to the kitchen to write up their ticket. Nothing here ever changed, and that was what they both liked about it. She grabbed the sugar shaker and poured a solid three count into the cup steaming in front of her.



�śThat shit’ll rot your teeth.”



�śSo will meth,” she replied with a smirk.



�śSmartass.”



They stared ahead at the tiny TV broadcasting some local Sunday morning news. In silence. The way they both liked it. It was starting off just like every other Sunday morning. She hoped it would stay that way. He never called her, not even on weeks when he had been unable to make it. But he had called her and told her they had something important to discuss this week. And she planned on avoiding whatever it was he wanted to discuss for as long as possible.



He cleared his throat.



�śCan’t you at least wait til I’ve had my goddamn eggs?”



�śAren’t we touchy this morning?” he replied sarcastically. �śLate night, was it?”



�śI was working.”



�śI’m sure you were. But it’s your extracurricular activities that worry me a bit more.”



She rolled her eyes. �śYou’re one to talk.”



The waitress returned, dropping their respective meals in front of them. �śEnjoy,” she said, robotically. They began shoveling their food into their faces equally as robotically. His runny, over-easy eggs grossed her out. She just stared at her scrambled ones and tried to choke it down. She also couldn’t stand watching other people eat. That’s half the reason they sat at the counter, so she could just stare straight ahead without having to worry about her gaze crossing the open mouth of another patron. Their waitress – what was her name? Lori? Laura? – came by and refreshed their coffees. She automatically reached for the sugar shaker. He shot her a sideways glance.



This is how their Sundays went. And this is how she wanted them to say. But he cleared his throat, wiped his mouth, making sure he got every bit of egg out of his moustache, tossed the used napkin on his now empty plate and shoved it away from him. She knew whatever he had wanted to talk about was about to be discussed.



�śSo, I’ve been thinking,” he started, pausing again to clear his throat. �śI think it’s time you gave up this bartending crap. You’ve gotta get serious. Settle down. Quit rolling out of bed looking like a damn raccoon.”



She reached for the reflective napkin holder and brought it up to her face to use as a mirror, wiping under her eyes. She definitely should’ve gotten up earlier and done some damage control.



�śIs that it?” she asked. �śThat was the big discussion you wanted to have this morning? You wanted to tell me to get my shit together?” She said this with a sarcastic twinge in her voice, primarily because it was hard to take him seriously when he talked about this sort of thing.



�śWill you let me finish? Jesus Christ, getting all riled up for no reason. No, that’s not what I wanted you talk to you about, but watching you barrel in here like a damn train wreck week after week – I can’t keep sitting by and watching you flush all your potential down the drain,” he said.



Potential? What potential? She was the product of this absentee, who had all of a sudden contacted her out of the blue when she was 16, and an alcoholic mother, who had died about 5 years ago from – surprise, surprise – complications related her to cirrhotic liver. She had barely graduated from high school. The fact that she had started working the second she had turned 16, primarily to make sure she could at least buy something to eat when her mother had spent her entire paycheck on booze, probably had something to do with that.



She didn’t even know what to say to him. She had only ever seen him once a week, for a few hours at most, the first few months of which they spent in awkward silence with forced conversations about how her classes were going and how the Red Sox had performed that week. She spent those first years choking on dozens of questions: Where had he been? Why had he abandoned her? Why on Earth did he want to start a relationship now? How did he find her? She had never asked him and had gotten various answers from her mother, depending on her level of alcohol consumption at the given time.



But what was he getting at here? While her mind was racing with a million different responses, to this sudden attempt at parenting that was about two decades too late, she kept her mouth shut. She knew her voice would shake and that was something she definitely wanted to avoid. Once she started to get upset, her emotions just started to spiral, and it was nearly impossible to get them quickly under control. This personality trait was unfortunately one of the few qualities she had inherited from her mother. She just sat there like a scolded puppy, waiting for him to continue.



Clearing his throat, yet again, he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. �śHere,” he said, handing her an overstuffed, crumpled envelope. She shot him a sideways glance as she flipped it over, unfolded the flap on the pack. She pulled out a wad of folded papers. She scanned them briefly and just looked up at him, confused.



�śWhat the fuck is this?” she asked.



�śMy will. And my life insurance policy.”



�śYeah no, I can see that. Why are you giving this to me?”



�śWhy wouldn’t I?” he replied, nonchalantly, dismissing her question with a shrug of his shoulders. He turned back to his coffee. She just stared at him, mouth open. She knew he could feel her staring at him. He squirmed a bit, shifting his weight and doing his best to ignore her.



�śSeriously? You’re just going to hand this to me and not�Ś say�Ś anything?” There was that quiver she had been trying to avoid. �śWhat – are you dying or something?” He just dropped his head.



�śDo you gotta go and get all emotional about it? Of course I’m dying! We’re all dying. The docs just said I sped up the process by chain smoking for the last 50 years. Not much they can do about it now.” Another shrug.



�śSo this is what? Your way of making amends for abandoning me to be raised by some random drunk you knocked up? This is your way of being a parent – showing up after I’m already fucked beyond repair and throwing some snide comments and money at me? I’m a bartender. I’m a train wreck. I’m the product of an alcoholic and a�Śa�Ś a whatever the hell you are!” She could feel the eyes of the few other patrons turn toward them and she could feel the volume of her voice rising. �śLet me tell you something – keep it. Keep all of it. Keep your will. Keep your Sundays. Keep yourself out of my life.” She stood to leave.



�śWill you quit being so fucking dramatic already? Jesus. Sit down.” She begrudgingly obeyed. But she wouldn’t look at him. She refused to look at him. �śWhat did you want me to do, huh? Just wait and not say anything, have you show up here to wait for me, having no idea they already buried me? Huh? Or what, you wanted a phone call from my lawyer?”



She knew he was right. But that didn’t change how upset she was, how unexplainably betrayed she felt. These Sundays had been the most consistent thing in her life, the only routine she had, and soon they were going to end. From the way John had made it sound, he could drop dead any day. Where would he be when it happened? Where would she be? Would he be alone? Would anyone even think to let her know? She realized now how little she knew about him, or, well, about his current life. He had shared select stories from his past with her, and she had discerned some information from comments and facts he had casually dropped into conversation. But did he live alone? Did he have a wife that was taking care of him, that would be there if and when something happened to him? These were questions, in all honesty, she had avoided asking for years, not really wanting to know the answers.



But now they were the only thing she could think about. She thought about them on her way home from the diner. She thought about them as she crawled back in between the sheets, glad that last night’s visitor had seen himself out while she was gone. She thought about them as she slogged through her shift at the bar. She thought about them as she navigated the dark city streets on her way home, grateful that on Sunday nights the bar was closed by 10 p.m. She thought about them right up until a young girl ran out of nowhere and in front of her car. She swerved hard to the left to avoid her. And drove straight into oncoming traffic.





Chapter 3



She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, knees pulled in to her chest, huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth. She hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. Back and forth, back and forth. She pressed her forehead into her knees and wrapped her arms tighter around her shins. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to shower. She knew she wasn’t ready to do either of those things yet.



Her muscles ached. Her stomach was in knots. Her mind was foggy. One realization, however, made her stomach drop. She hadn’t locked the door. Bolting up much faster than her protesting body would have liked, her head became light as she clumsily hurried down the hall toward the front door. Door knob, dead bolt, second dead bolt. Click, click, click, one right after the other. A wave of unexplainable relief overcame her as she slumped back down onto the floor. She cupped her face in her hands, trying to make the room stop spinning. They smelled like wet dirt and drying blood. The smell triggered an overwhelming copper taste in the back of her mouth. Frantically, she crawled as fast as she could toward the bathroom, making it with just enough time to throw back the lid of the toilet before what little she had eaten that day was immediately propelled from her stomach.



After she had finally stopped retching and her body stopped shaking, she pulled herself up to the sink and splashed cool water onto her face. Before even reaching for a towel, she slid her hand across the wall and flipped the first light switch her fingers came across. What she saw in the mirror was actually worse than she had expected. Staring straight forward, she focused on the reflection of her nose, the one area of her face that seemed untouched, and slowly loosened her focus, assessing the damage as she went.



Her right cheek had survived with only a few cuts and scrapes, but one small glance to the left and she could tell her cheekbone was broken. It had already begun to swell, causing her left eye to look sunken and lost; the white behind that hazel iris now completely red from what she could only assume was a broken blood vessel, likely obtained from the same backhand that had shattered her cheekbone. Her bangs were matted to her forehead by a mix of sweat and dirt. Her lip was split right down the middle. She vaguely remembered biting it. Looking down at her hands, she realized why the smell of dirt and blood had been so strong when she had brought them to her face. Cuts of various size and depth covered her palms and the backs of her hands. Several knuckles were still slowly secreting blood. Almost all of her fingernails were broken, some missing completely, and at least two fingers on her right hand were so swollen she couldn’t imagine they weren’t broken. She couldn’t examine herself any further. The sight of her battered body was beginning to make her nauseous.



Turning her back to the mirror, she reached in to the shower and turned the hot water up as high as it would go. Slowly and carefully she began to remove what was left of her clothes. Her t-shirt, ripped and bloody, her jeans, covered in dirt and soaked with sweat, fell to the floor in a heap that looked as tattered and torn as she felt. Afraid her legs wouldn’t support her on the slippery surface of the shower, she pulled the shower curtain back and sat down immediately in the back of the bathtub. The water stung her skin as it slowly began to attack the outer layer of grime she felt encased in. She watched the water race toward the drain in brown swirls, and again pulled her knees in to her chest.



As steam quickly began to fill the tiny bathroom, she finally allowed herself to ponder the most disturbing, yet most obvious question; how the hell had this happened?





Chapter 4



The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to see strangers standing above her, poking and prodding. And she was moving. Or, well, being moved. The generic fluorescent overhead lights beamed down on her as a sea of white coats and blue scrubs ebbed and flowed over the railings on either side of her. She slowly began to realize more and more about her surroundings. She couldn’t move her neck. Or her head. Or her arms. At first this made her panic, and that’s when those around her realized she was awake and started to ask her questions. Did she know where she was? Could she feel various pokes and prods? Follow the light that was pointed directly at her pupils. Squeeze this hand or that hand. They wheeled her in between two blue curtains and started hooking her up to all kinds of machines.



She closed her eyes again. This time when she opened them she was by herself. There were all sorts of conversations and movement and beeps and buzzing outside of the curtains. She was no longer strapped down. She slowly turned her head from side to side. She felt sore all over. She looked down at her hands, expecting to see the mangled mess they had been before, but instead saw clean, neatly wrapped, bandaged hands. All of a sudden the curtain was ripped back by a phantom hand.



�śThere you are! I’ve been looking for you all over! They wouldn’t tell me anything!”



�śRebecca? What the�Ś What’s going on?” she stammered. Her head started swimming again as she struggled to take everything in.

�śI found you passed out in the shower! There was blood everywhere – I had no idea what to do so I called 911!”



�śOh good – you’re awake!” said an uninvited nurse as she entered through the gaping hole Rebecca had left in her blue curtained fortress. �śNow, we just have a few more tests to run and a few questions to ask you.” The next thing she knew this unwelcome woman was bombarding her with questions. All the questions Rebecca must have been unable to answer; things about her medical history, what medications she was on, and the most important question of all – what had happened to her tonight – were thrown at her at rapid fire speed, while Rebecca just stood by and watched on, likely curious about the answers to some of those same questions herself.



�śI think you should call the police,” was all she said.





Chapter 5



It felt like it took them forever to arrive. The whole time she was waiting Rebecca just kept standing there, staring at her. Rebecca had wanted to call her parents, but she had somehow managed to talk her out of it.



Two male uniformed cops eventually showed up. And by the time they had she almost wished she hadn’t asked to see them. Rather than letting her tell her story, they simply shot rapid fire questions at her. Did she know her attacker? Why was she walking home by herself so late? What had she been wearing? What were her exact movements that night? Had she had anything to drink? What exactly did she remember?



He had beaten her pretty severely. As she had suspected, her cheekbone was broken, as were two of her fingers. She had suffered a concussion and had needed some stitches in her scalp where he had slammed her head against a tree when she had ceased to fight back. It had seemed almost as if that was something he hadn’t expected to happen.



�śAlways be a �Śbad’ victim,” her mother had repeatedly told her. �śMake it as difficult as possible for them to get what they want from you. You know what they want from you�Ś”



And that’s exactly what she had tried to be – a bad victim – yelling and screaming and clawing and fighting and eventually causing her attacker enough trouble that she had had the opportunity to run, and luckily he had declined to follow.



No, she did not know who had attacked her. He had come up on her from behind and it was too dark during their scuffle for her to get a good look at his face.



She was walking home so late because she didn’t have a car, and when her bus had never shown up, she gave up waiting at the bus stop near her classmate’s apartment and decided to walk home. Even though it was dark out, the weather was still relatively pleasant for a New England fall, given that the rain from earlier in the day had stopped.



She had been wearing a zip-up hoodie over a t-shirt, jeans, and canvas sneakers. The only reason she volunteered this information was because her attacker had grabbed the hood of her sweatshirt when she had been walking by. Had that not been the case, she couldn’t understand why that question of what she had been wearing would even be relevant.



She had been at her classmate’s apartment studying. Her study group had a rotating schedule for who hosted their Sunday night study sessions. This had been Julie’s week. Mike had offered to give her a ride home so that she wouldn’t have to wait for the bus, but she had declined – primarily because something about Mike had always seemed a little bit off. When she had hosted study group a few weeks prior, Mike had excused himself to use the restroom and instead �śaccidentally” wandered into Rebecca’s room, where she had found him. There were currently no words to describe how much she had wished she had taken Mike up on his offer.



Of course she hadn’t had anything to drink. She was a first year law student at Brown – since this semester had started she couldn’t remember the last time she had touched alcohol. And yes, the others in her study group could indeed verify that she was not drinking. And no, she wasn’t using any other �śsubstances” either. She was beginning to become impatient. What did any of these questions have to do with finding her attacker?



Finally the officers asked her to walk them through her night. She had left her apartment a little before 4 p.m. to catch the bus. She arrived at Julie’s apartment in Elmhurst right around 4:30. She was one of the first to arrive and the rest of the study group slowly began to trickle in. They hunkered down around 5, dividing up who would outline each chapter, each case, quizzing each other on facts related to the cases that would be covered during the upcoming week. Julie had laid out a spread of various snacks and finger foods in the kitchen, and the group floated between the kitchen and her living room – shouting back and forth between the rooms. The group dispersed around 10 p.m., each member heading off to spend the rest of the night reviewing the notes they had taken throughout the night, the over-achievers of the group off to start outlining.



Mike offered to give her a ride, which she declined, and headed toward the bus stop she had gotten off at earlier. She waited at the bus stop. And waited. And waited. Being much colder than it had been when she had left that afternoon, she pulled her favorite zip-up hooded sweat shirt from her messenger bag, and rather than fusing with the cross-body strap, just threw it on, zipping it up over the strap. It wasn’t unusual for the buses to run late. RIPTA wasn’t exactly the most reliable form of transportation, but it was the cheapest. Well, other than walking, which is what she eventually decided to do.



She had made the cross-town walk before, several times before actually. The most direct route didn’t take her through the greatest neighborhood, but she had never had a problem, and she knew which streets and corners to avoid. If she just kept her head down and kept moving forward she couldn’t imagine she’d run into any problems. Oh, how wrong she had been.



She had been walking along a row of trees that lined the park when she felt a hard, strong tug on the hood of her sweatshirt that not only made her lose her balance, but almost brought her to the ground. After that, everything seemed to happen in a blur. Her assailant was dragging her behind the tree line and into the park, both hands now firmly grasping the hood of her sweatshirt. At first she struggled to break free of his grip. Unable to do so, she unzipped the hoodie and began to run as hard and as fast as she could. There were no lights on in the park. The only thing illuminating the landscape was the glow of the streetlights on the road that she was quickly leaving behind her. She started to lose her footing on the mud and loose rocks of the open field she was making her way across. She was breathing so hard, she didn’t even hear him rapidly approaching behind her. He tackled her, wrapping his arms completely around her, pinning her arms to her body, leaving her with nothing to break her fall as he used all of his weight to bring her down to the ground. Her knees met the ground first, followed quickly by her forehead.



He rolled her over onto her back. She closed her eyes and started screaming as loud as she could. This was when she felt the back of his hand across her face. �śShut up!” he growled, pinning her hands above her head, squeezing them tight, while lowered his body on top of hers, using all of his body weight against her. She kicked and bucked and squirmed. Eventually she was able to free one of her hands, which she started swinging wildly toward his face. She felt her fingernails dig into his flesh and he shifted his weight as he recoiled just enough to allow her to free herself. She crawled to her feet and took off. Now completely disoriented, her only goal was to put as much distance as possible between herself and this mystery man. Her cheek throbbed. Her hands ached from her wrists through the tips of her fingers. Her legs just kept pumping, but she could hear his heavy breathing closing in behind her. The next thing she knew he had latched onto her arm – but she kept pulling away, fighting to get away. She heard herself screaming out for help, but they had moved so far away from the road she knew her screams were all but useless.



�ŚBe a bad victim. Be a bad victim.’ Her mother’s words echoed in her head. �śShut up!” he said. He had her by the shoulders now. She continued to try to pull away, but the mud caused her to struggle with her footing. �śShut up – shut up – shut up!” he said as he shoved her backward, slamming her head against the trunk of a tree. Her mouth slammed shut. She literally saw stars. Her footing slipped on the roots of the tree. She felt her legs giving way, slowly slumping her toward the ground. That was exactly where he wanted her, and she knew that was absolutely the worst place she could be.



Steadying herself against the base of the tree, she propelled herself forward, landing the top of her head squarely in his gut. There was an audible �Śwhoosh’ of the air that exploded from his lungs. As he stumbled back, she grabbed the sides of her messenger bag, and using all of her remaining strength, cracked the bag, weighed down by all her books and legal pads, across his face. And with that, she was off again - running toward anywhere that would get her out of that park and away from that man.





Chapter 6



When she opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was. She quickly realized, however, that her right wrist was handcuffed to the railing that ran along the side of her bed. Before her brain even had time to process the peeling wallpaper and generic framed pictures of fruit that hung on the wall, or the green curtain to her left that separated the beeping of her monitoring devices from those of the patient in the next bed over, a nurse ran in and immediately started fiddling with her monitor. �śOh good, you’re awake. Do you know where you are, hun?” she asked, with that soft calming voice she could only assume they taught all nurses before they unleashed them in hospitals across the country.



�śWhat happened?” she managed, slowly becoming conscious of how sore her entire body felt and how much discomfort murmuring even just those two words caused her.



�śWell dear, it appears you caused a bit of an accident,” the nurse explained. �śYou hit another car head-on, and�Śwell, there are a few officers here that need to speak with you.” She nodded to her cuffed wrist as she said this. �śI’ll give you a few minutes to get your bearings and I’ll send them in. You suffered a nasty concussion when the airbag deployed, but the good news is nothing is broken. Your nose is just a bit swollen and you’ll probably be sore for a few days. The doctors may want to keep you overnight though, for observation.”



Before she could get any other words past her swollen lips, the nurse vanished as quickly as she materialized.



The police were here�Ś the police. And they wanted to ask her questions about what had happened�Ś What had happened? She closed her eyes and before them flashed the image of that young girl caught in her headlights. Who just runs out in front of traffic like that? And then there were more headlights – this time they were barreling toward her�Ś And then she had woken up here. Her head was pounding and her eyelids felt heavy. She wiggled her fingers and toes – just to be sure. The nurse had said nothing was broken – but who knew? Her toes rippled in waves under the blanket. She rotated both of her wrists slowly, an act slightly inhibited by the handcuffs. All she wanted was a cigarette.



She heard the officers before she saw them. The heavy boots, the intermittent squawk of their radios, the low rumbles of voices she could only assume they thought made them more intimidating.



�śMa’am – we just have a few questions to ask you.”



�śWell I have a question for you – why the fuck am I handcuffed to this bed?”



�śWell ma’am, the woman that was driving the car you hit died while in surgery. Now – we have a few questions to ask y-�ś



�śWHAT?!” She bolted straight up despite her body’s protest. �śI-I-I wasn’t even going that fast. I didn’t even�Ś that girl just came out of nowhere. I�Śwhat�Ś” she was beginning to lose control of her voice. The monitors attached to her by a tangle of wires started beeping and shrieking, reflecting the swirl of blood and emotions pumping through her veins. Before she knew what was happening, the soft-voiced nurse was barreling into the room.



�śYou need to leave,” she said, glaring at them, defending her patient.



�śMa’am, we really need to –�ś one of them started.



�śWhat is wrong with you? She’s not going anywhere – you’ve already made damn sure of that. She’s been in a terrible accident and she doesn’t need you in her face right now making it any worse. Now get out!” She watched them begrudgingly retreat, then turned to the nurse to thank her. �śDon’t even worry about it honey,” she replied to her thankful eyes as she stuck a needle into her IV tubing. �śYou just relax. You need your rest. Is there anyone you want us to call?”



�śThere’s no one to call,” she murmured before drifting off into the deepest sleep she’d experienced in quite a while.





Chapter 7



This time when she opened her eyes, the officer that had remained silent during their previous encounter sat in a generic hospital chair by her bedside, absentmindedly playing with his phone. Once he noticed her starting to stir, he quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and cleared his throat.



�śMa’am, now, I don’t mean to upset you,” he said in a quiet, low voice. His accent was warm, unlike the harsh New England accent the other cop had assaulted her with earlier. �śWe just need to hear your side of the story. Accidents happen all the time; it’s our job to get the details from each individual and piece together what happened.”



Perhaps his accent was southern? It was calming and comforting. She closed her eyes and massaged her left temple with her free hand. �śOk,” she said quietly.



�śOk,” he repeated, flipping open his notebook. �śNow just start from the beginning.”



She took a deep breath. �śOk.” She swallowed, making a mental note to keep the trembling of her voice in check. �śI was leaving the bar,” she started.



�śWere you drinking at all tonight, ma’am?” the office interjected.



�śNo, no. I work at a bar downtown. Murphy’s. I was on my way home.”



�śWhich is where?” She gave him her address off of Fruit Hill Ave. He nodded. �śOk – so you were on your way home.”



�śYes. I was on my way home, driving down Pleasant Valley Parkway near the VA hospital. And this girl just cut out in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid her and the only other thing I remember is seeing the headlights of the car in the other lane.”



�śWhat do you mean �Ścut out in front of you?’ Was she in a car, was she�Ś”



�śNo, no, no,” she cut him off. �śThis girl literally ran out in front of my car. Straight into the road. I-I have no idea where she came from. She wasn’t on the sidewalk, she didn’t come out of a house. She just ran right across the road and took off.”



A look she couldn’t quite decipher crossed his face. �śAnd around what time would you say this was?”



�śI-uh�Ś It couldn’t have been any later than 10:30�Ś.” This response just further deepened the mysterious expression on his face. He quickly scribbled a page worth of notes, flipping the tiny pages so rapidly she thought he would tear them straight out of the book.



�śCan you describe this girl at all?” he asked.



She closed her eyes. �śI don’t know�Ś I told you, she came out of nowhere�Ś I think she was a brunette. She was wearing jeans and maybe a t-shirt?” He nodded and scribbled some more.



Now it was time for him to pick her story apart. Which way on the street was she driving; could anyone verify what time had she left work; had she had any drugs or alcohol in her system and could this also be verified by her co-workers; could she tell him anything else about this mystery girl that ran across the road? She did her best to answer his questions, but all of the questions he was throwing at her, coupled with whatever sedative the nurse had given her was making it hard for her to concentrate. She assumed he was repeating his questions to try to get her to slip up on something she had previously said. She kept her answers short, and to the point, and after what felt like an eternity, the officer finally closed his notebook and stood to leave.



�śAlright ma’am – thank you very much for your time. We’ll be in touch if we need you to answer any more questions.”



�śIs that woman really dead?” she asked, her voicing inevitably cracking. She was actually subconsciously proud she had been able to keep everything under control all that time.



The officer looked at the floor and then back at her, almost sheepishly. �śShe’s still in surgery, ma’am. My partner jumped the gun a bit on that one. Again, my apologies for upsetting you so much earlier. Like I said, accidents happen all the time. And from the sounds of things, this all could’ve been much worse.”



She finally felt all of the muscles in her body relax as her head sank into the pillow, completely overcome with relief.



�śUm – then do you mind?” she asked, jingling the cuff holding her captive in the bed. He leaned over, not saying a word, and removed the cuffs from her wrist and the bed frame.



�śJust don’t go taking off now,” he said, the tone of his voice somewhat playful, and she could’ve almost sworn she saw him smirk ever so slightly as he said it. She dismissed it as being a side effect of the drugs the nurse had used to sedate her and closed her eyes again.





Chapter 8



She had been ripped from a deep sleep by the unnerving, unfamiliar blare of the telephone on the nightstand beside her bed. The house phone rang so rarely now that she and Michael both had cellphones she almost didn’t recognize the sound. She sleepily picked up the receiver and mumbled �śhello?”



It was the phone call no mother ever wanted to receive. She had started throwing on clothes haphazardly – not bothering to take the time she normally did to ensure not a hair was out of place, nor a wrinkle showing.



�śMichael –for god’s sake Michael – wake up!” she shouted while flittering about their bedroom throwing every light on. He grunted and then jerked awake. �śLinus just called, we need to get to the hospital right away!”



�śWha�Ś?” he inquired sleepily. She responded by chucking a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt at him and ran downstairs to find her car keys. Normally she would have Michael drive at night. Not only was her eyesight not the greatest, but she firmly believed it was the chivalrous thing to do. Tonight she threw chivalry aside as she dashed out to the garage and started the car.



�śMichael – let’s go!” she commanded. It was a least a half an hour’s drive to the hospital, which by Rhode Island standards was nearly an eternity. He stumbled into the garage obediently, slamming the door to the kitchen behind him without even bothering to turn off the lights. He still had his shoes in his hands. He just stared at her blankly, the sleep slowly creeping from his eyes. �śMichael! Now!” This last high pitch shriek jolted him and he jumped into the passenger seat.



�śWhat is going on?” he asked, strapping his seatbelt across his chest as she flew in reverse down the driveway.



�śSomething horrible has happened to our little girl. Linus called from the hospital. There was some sort of accident. We have to get there right away.”



�śWhat about the�Ś?”



She cut him off. �śAll Linus knew was that she was in surgery�Ś.” Her knuckles were beginning to turn white as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She bit her lower lip and stared straight ahead at the dark suburban road. She wasn’t the best driver to begin with, but Michael knew better than to argue with her at a time like this, opting instead to keep his hands planted firmly against the dashboard in front of him and his breath held until they pulled into the parking lot of Women and Infant’s Hospital.



Linus leapt up when he saw the two of them barreling into the waiting area. Rarely had he spent time alone with his in-laws. He almost didn’t know how to act around them without his wife at his side. Michael had always intimidated him; Linus could always tell Michael wasn’t his biggest fan. In fact, the last time these two men had spent any time alone was when Linus had asked for permission to marry Michael’s daughter. But now seeing them both standing there�"looking to him for answers�"he almost began to wish he hadn’t called them.



�śI-I-I’m sorry,” Linus stammered. �śI didn’t mean to wake you up – it’s just so much more serious than they initially thought. I think. I don’t know. I-I-I�Ś”



�śLinus, what the hell happened?!” Michael demanded, knowing whatever Linus had told his wife over the phone had gone in one ear and out the other as soon as she heard her pregnant daughter was in the hospital.



�śI’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” he replied, wringing his hands and looking at the floor. �śI got a call from the hospital saying there had been an accident, and that my wife was here, and,” he paused to swallow hard, �śand that they were bringing her into surgery.” He looked up. �śThey had been coming out and giving me updates, but I haven’t seen anyone in almost an hour.” He flopped helplessly onto the chair behind him. She took a seat next to him and patted him on the shoulder.



Michael stormed over to the nearby reception station to, she could only assume, try to find out some more information.



�śShe said she had errands to run,” Linus said, almost to himself. �śI knew she’d been sneaking cigarettes, so I assumed she just wanted to drive around for a bit and smoke�Ś.” He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. His words were coming out slowly, almost painfully. �śThe officers said they weren’t even going that fast. They weren’t on the highway�Ś But the car hit her head on and�Ś oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” He began to rock back and forth, palms still firm against his face.



�śNow you stop that right now,” she said. �śThe last thing we need is you getting hysterical. We’re all here. We’re going to think positive thoughts. And any minute now a nurse is going to come through that door, and take us into a recovery room to see her. Alright?”



�śAlright,” Linus responded after a heavy silence sat between them for what felt like an eternity, not realizing that what she had said was more for her own good than it was for his.



Michael slowly lowered himself into the chair next to his wife. �śWell, all they’ll tell me is that she’s still in surgery. They’ll update us when they have something to update us about.”

And so the waiting began.





Chapter 9



She just couldn’t stop staring at her. She had been standing there for what must have been hours. Michael was off with Linus. She vaguely heard them mumble something about going to get something to eat, or grabbing some coffee or something, and did she want anything? She just shook her head �Śno’ and continued to stand there and stare.



A thick pane of glass separated her from the room that held her precious little angel. No one was allowed in to see her. The doctors told them she just wasn’t strong enough. So here she stood, behind this protective window, watching over her with a furrowed brow. What did she think was going to happen? Would her color suddenly brightened? Would her eyes open? Would she cry out in pain? And if so, would there be anything she could possibly do to comfort her? Would there be anything anyone could do?



Others gathered around, coming and going, looking through the window, talking excitedly amongst themselves. She heard bits and pieces of their conversations, but none of what they said stuck; none of it mattered. All that mattered was that any minute now she was going to wake up, and the doctors would allow her to see her, and everything was going to be fine.



Women, confined to wheelchairs, were pushed down the hallway by their partners; men wandered aimlessly by themselves, a variety of overwhelmed looks plastered across their faces; parents and grandparents, clutching each other’s hand, all shuffled up to the window and looked in. They scanned the rows of tiny humans, pointing and smiling and laughing and crying.



�śWhich one is yours?” first-time parents asked one another.



�śIs this your first grandchild?”



�śOh, she’s so precious!”



�śHe looks just like his father.”



It seemed as though those gathering were beginning to multiply. She couldn’t drown them out any longer, and their optimism and happiness began to overwhelm her. She remembered Michael wheeling her up to this very same floor, this very same window. They had stared at their little girl, but it wasn’t the same this time. Her eyes had been full of joy, her heart pounding with excitement, and admittedly a bit of nervousness. But Michael had held her hand as they watched their little girl kick her feet wildly before soothing herself with her own thumb placed firmly between her lips. They had chatted excitedly with the other new parents and new grandparents, and when she woke up in her room later, the nurses had wheeled her little girl right into the room next to her. She remembered laying on her side, gazing over at this tiny, amazing creature, and feeling the overwhelming sense of motherly love wash over her.



She closed her eyes now, for the first time in what felt like days, holding on to that moment. Not the first time she saw her, no. That moment had been fleeting, and too confusing as the nurses rushed her away to check her vitals and clean her up. No, it had been that moment in that tiny hospital room, where she knew she could stare into those eyes forever. Where she vowed to do everything she could to protect her little girl, to keep her safe, to ensure she too would become a mother one day and would share a moment as glorious as the one that had taken place in that very same hospital all those years ago.



She felt a firm hand on her shoulder. Opening her eyes she turned around to see Michael standing there. She could tell by the look on his face that the news they had been waiting all night for wasn’t the news they’d been hoping to hear. She felt her knees buckle, but Michael grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to his chest, barely keeping her from hitting the floor. She heard the wails her body emitted but couldn’t control them, and quite frankly didn’t care to. The happy couples and families all gathered around the glass turned to look at them – to stare at them really. Michael didn’t shush her, or try to calm her – after 30 years of marriage he had learned this approach would only upset her further. The only thing he could do now is hold her, and try to hold himself together. Slowly he led her away from the nursery window – and the prying eyes – to a row of nearby chairs. He lowered her into one of the seats, and sat down beside her. She just stared at the floor and continued to sob. He sat there stoically, arm around her, waiting for her to come up for air. Tears had stopped falling from her eyes, but her chest continued to heave as she inhaled sharp, short breaths. He squeezed her shoulder tightly, and she turned to look at him. Her bright blue eyes looked empty. Even though she was looking right at him, he wasn’t quite sure she could see him.



�śW-w-where’s Linus?” she stammered, turning her gaze back to the floor. She was rubbing the palms of her hands against her thighs rhythmically.



�śDon’t you worry about that now, honey,” he replied, taking her hands in his. Her jittering like that always put him on edge. He could never exactly put his finger on what it was about – and now was obviously not the time to try and figure it out. She looked at him quizzically, but said nothing.



If Michael told her not to worry, she didn’t.





Chapter 10



What Michael neglected to tell her, however, was that Linus had abandoned their plan to head to scour the halls to find something to eat or drink. After seeing his newborn daughter – so small and fragile, and unable to be held – he became even more hysterical. That was more or less the reason Michael suggested they take a walk. His daughter was out of surgery, but where was his wife? Linus wouldn’t stop wringing his hands. He wouldn’t lift his gaze from the floor.



Instead of following Michael down the hallway that led to a cluster of vending machines, he stormed over to the nurses’ station and demanded an update on his wife. It was the first time Michael had seen him exhibit even the least bit of assertiveness. It made him almost like Linus for a minute. Staggering back over to where Michael was standing, still wringing his hands, Linus looked a bit more composed; a bit less manic.



�śShe said the doctor should be coming out soon with an update,” he said almost absentmindedly. �śThat’s good right? I mean, the baby’s out, so they must just be closing her up and, I mean, they do that all the time, right? Surgeons? They stitch people back together all the time�Ś” he trailed off, his gaze returning to the floor.



�śMr. Pelt?” The two men turned around to see what they presumed to be the surgeon, still wearing his scrub cap. Linus shook his head in acknowledgement and the surgeon took this as his cue to continue. �śMr. Pelt, I’m so sorry, but your wife, she didn’t”



�śNo,” Linus cut him off. �śNo, no, no. That’s just not possible. The baby - when they brought out the baby they said that – no. Just no.” Linus was shaking his head rapidly from side to side.



�śMr. Pelt, I’m sorry. There was just too much internal bleeding after the baby was removed. We did everything we could. The good news is your daughter is going to be fine. We’re going to keep her for observation, but you should be able to take her home within the week.”



�śThe good news? Take her home? Take her home to what – to where – to a home without a mother?” The volume of Linus’ voice slowly rose with each statement.



�śAgain, I am so sorr-�ś This time it was Michael’s turn to cut him off.



�śThat’s enough,” he said holding up his palm. �śJust�Ś that’s enough.” The surgeon turned and walked away. Michael re-focused his attention on Linus. His hands were no longer being flipped and wrung, but instead hung in clenched fists at his side. He stared intensely at the floor. Michael just stood there watching him, not knowing what to do or say. Michael had always been a very composed person; not one to show much emotion. He knew how to comfort his wife, but his son-in-law was a mystery to him.



�śI can’t do it,” Linus said out of the blue, looking up at Michael. �śThere’s just – there’s no – I just can’t.” His right foot started tapping rapidly on the floor.



�śNow Linus,” Michael said, attempting to remain calm, �śyou don’t know what you’re saying. Just relax. Everything will be fine.”



�śI’m sorry Mike, I really am. I just – I can’t.” And with that, Linus turned toward the doors of the hospital, clenching and unclenching his fists as he walked.



Michael just stood there. He didn’t call after Linus, he didn’t run after him, or try to stop him.

If Linus was going to walk out on his daughter, Michael didn’t want her to have anything to do with him. He turned and headed back up to the nursery floor to tell his wife what had happened. They might have lost their baby girl, but they had also been given a new blessing; a new baby girl to love and raise and care for. As Michael pushed the �śup” button on the elevator, he silently prayed that this little angel’s story would have quite a different ending.