Battle Scars, page 4
But it has no effect on him, and he tightens his grip.
"I'm sorry Jerome! I just - ... "
"You just what? You're a fucking liar, Lena. Travis saw you leave with that blonde bitch you've been meeting with on Wednesdays. How much did you charge her? You making money on the side and not sharing with me? After all that I've done for you? You know what the consequences for that are Raquel?"
He pulls a knife from his back pocket and holds it next to my cheek, and I wince as it bites into my skin.
"What I should do is cut your fucking tongue out for lying to me. But that's much too valuable to me... "
"I swear to God Jerome, I'm not pocketing any money on the side! I'm not!"
"So, you're just giving my pussy away then?" he asks as he slams the knife down on the dresser and drags me across the room. "That’s MY pussy! And let me tell you: my pussy is NEVER free!"
The first punch is to my stomach. I try to double over but can't because of his grip on my hair. Instead, I just choke on the bile that rises from my stomach into the back of my throat and gasp for air. The next one is to my cheek, and I feel the pain explode into my eyes, and then everything goes black.
Chapter Sixteen
Andrea:
I take the elevator to the fifth floor, and I can see the door to her suite is open just a little bit. I pull out my gun and hold it inside of my jacket as I push the door open with my foot. The living area is empty, but it looks like there was a struggle. I walk down the hall to the bedroom, and the door is open. There is a girl, about eighteen, standing by the dresser snorting coke.
“Hey!” I yell.
She looks up with white powder all over her upper lip and nose with a smear of blood coming from her left nostril.
“Where is Raquel?” I demand.
She stares at me blankly then leans down to blow another line. I walk over and grab her by the arm, forcing her to look at me.
“I said where is Raquel?!?”
I find myself screaming now, and the girl’s nonreaction is infuriating.
“Check the alley. Jerome and his buddies put her out with the rest of the trash.”
I let go of her and quickly turn to leave.
“Hey,” she shouts at me. “They were going to gang rape her. She’s lucky they killed her instead.”
Panic immediately sets in as I take off running down the hallway towards the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. I take the stairs two at a time and race to the side of the building where the alley is located.
“Raquel? Raquel?” I call frantically. Climbing up the side of the dumpster I flip the lid open and immediately jump in when I see her. She’s covered in blood, and after checking for a pulse, I’m relieved when I find one even if it is very weak. But I can’t assess her accurately in here. I open the side slot of the dumpster and then position her so that I can pull her out easier.
I slip my t-shirt off, leaving me in my tank top, and use it to put pressure on the wound on her face. She’s unconscious, but that seems to be the source of most of the blood. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial 911 and pray that I got to her in time.
***
I stand in the hospital hallway pacing. Raquel is in bad shape, but she is stable. I’m waiting for my sponsor Mike, not because I needed him right now, but because he was also a cop.
“You call, I answer. You see how a phone works now right?”
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but I don’t have time for that shit right now Mike. Please.”
“Okay, sorry but you really should make time. You still sober?”
“Mike... “
“Okay fine. But we’re talking later. What do we have here?” he asks nodding towards the door.
“Her name is Raquel. She’s an escort. Her “pimp”? I don’t know if that’s what an escort’s boss is called... whatever. Mike... he left her in the dumpster. He beat her. Badly... dislocated her shoulder, broke her collarbone, bruised three ribs, and slashed her face with a razor. She needed thirty-two stitches across her cheek. The only thing that saved her was that when he smashed her head into the dresser, he thought he killed her. It took nineteen more stitches to close that wound. I want him arrested.”
“Do we have a name on him?”
“No last name but goes by Jerome. He’s in a suite at the Hilton. Here’s the address, room four twenty-one.”
“I’ll check it out.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
“I have to ask though: how did you get involved with this? Not exactly your crowd. Is it?”
“It’s a long story,” I sigh.
“One for your next AA meeting?”
“Nah, this one would be just for you,” I wink at him as he laughs and walks away.
“Miss King?” a nurse asks.
“That’s me.”
“Miss Adams is asking for you. She’s in room two-twelve.”
***
I walk into the room, and I try not to gasp, but I feel the tears sting my eyes. The whole left side of her face is swollen. Her eye is black and surrounded by two separate sets of stitches. She looks at me and tries to smile, but I can see that she is in a lot of pain.
"Hey love," I say quietly.
"Hey yourself," she responds back.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got beat up."
"That's not funny."
"Yes, it is."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yes," she replies.
"Whatever you need. Just let me know."
"You can get me out of here."
Chapter Seventeen
Andrea:
She wants to be discharged immediately but due to the nature of her injuries, her concussion in particular, I convince her to stay at least one night. She only agrees if I stay the night with her and I happily oblige as that was my plan anyway. There was no way that I was leaving her alone. No way in hell.
I pull up the sleeper chair next to her bed and watch Jeopardy as she sleeps... or tries to. She is very restless, and I understand all too well how that is.
I absentmindedly keep my hand next to her on the bed, almost instinctively in a protective manner, making sure that I know that she is there even if I'm not looking at her.
I hear her whimper softly, and I look to try to figure out if it's just a sleep response or if she is in pain. She is awake, and her face is twisted into a grimace as she tries to pull herself higher up on the bed with her good arm.
"Are you okay?" I ask. "Do you need help?"
"No. I'm okay. It just hurts to move. A lot," she says gritting her teeth.
"Do you need me to call the nurse?"
"No," she winces out. "I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"You're here. What else would I need?" she asks trying to wink at me through her the pain.
"That would be so much flirtier if your face wasn't contorted in pain when you said it," I laugh.
This elicits a similar response from her, but she is more restrained as I can tell that she is clearly in a good amount of pain. This causes my smile to tighten as I immediately feel the weight of my part in her being here.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"I'm just... I'm - ... I'm sorry love."
"For what? What do you have to be sorry for?"
"For this. It's my fault that you're here." I turn my head and stare straight ahead, unable to look at her.
"How do you figure that?"
"If you hadn't gone home with me he wouldn't have... hurt you like this."
"He's hurt me before Andy. This wasn't the first time. I was his favorite but ... he's hurt me before. You saw the scars on my back. It was inevitable that he would do it again. It was just a matter of time."
She grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. I keep my eyes straight ahead, still unable to shake my feelings of guilt.
As if reading my mind, she squeezes my hand and says, "It's not your fault." But I still can't bring myself to look at her.
Chapter Eighteen
Raquel:
My sleep is restless. I wake up at least every hour trying to catch my breath. Every time I close my eyes I see him, and every time he hurts me more. She is awake every time I wake up, and I wonder if she ever sleeps.
When I startle awake at around four and she's not there, I start to panic. My heart starts to race as I begin to get up but before I can move I hear her whispering outside of my door. She is talking in a low voice, so I can't make out what she's saying, but just knowing that she is out there immediately makes me feel better. I close my eyes and try to relax, but I can't seem to get comfortable. I hear her come back in the room, but she does not immediately notice that I am awake. She sits back down and puts her hand on the bed.
"Did I keep you awake?"
She turns her head to look at me and gives me a soft smile that makes my insides flutter. I can't help but smile back.
"What? No. Not at all. I just don't sleep much."
"Neither do I. Where did you go just now?"
"I uh, called Mike. He's my sponsor," she pauses and laughs. "Long story for another time. Anyway, he has a cabin up by Yosemite Falls, and he says that I can use it for as long as I want. He usually rents it out, but he has to have work done on the front stairs and doesn't want the liability. But it's private, away from the city, and no one will be able to find us. I mean... if you want to go. It will give you time to heal. Safely. So, what do you say?"
"I say ... what time do we leave?"
Chapter Nineteen
Three weeks later...
Raquel:
I wake up to an empty bed. The fresh air from the lake is drifting in through the window, and it smells so fresh and so clean. Stef usually fell asleep with me but had such frequent nightmares that she spent most of her nights on the couch. My body is still tender but well on its way to healing. Carefully I get up and pull on my robe before heading out to the living room.
I hear loud grunting as I make my way out to the living room and I see her. She is wearing a tight black tank top and tight black yoga pants, and everything she is doing and wearing is making my middle tight. Unable to keep any of her physical therapy appointments she has taken to doing it on her own. I'm pretty sure she was overdoing it though because after each session, which she did every morning, she was painful enough to pop a few of her pills. Not sure how many but it was more than the prescribed dose. Percocet I think she said it was which she chewed for a faster effect. Most addicts did that, but she clearly was in pain.
Her skin glistened with sweat as she lifted a dumbbell with her bad arm in reps of ten. The strain was apparent in her muscles and her face, but she pushed through the pain. Her body was so strong and watching the way she worked out showed why.
I stood there and watched her, completely fascinated ... and turned on. She knew I was watching as I saw a sly grin spread across her face.
"Good morning sunshine," she announced breathlessly.
"Good morning gorgeous," I say with blatant honesty. "I mean, really? Those muscles... wow!"
"They HURT! Just five more and... DONE! Damn that one was tough."
She grabs her towel off her workbench and wipes her face as she continues smiling at me.
"Feeling better?" she asks.
"Much. How's the shoulder?"
"Still working, fortunately. I always say that the pain is a good sign that it's still there."
"This is true! So, what are you up to today?"
"Well, I was thinking, if you're up to it, I'd like to take a short walk to the lake. Maybe have some lunch. Skip rocks. Whatever. What do you think? We've been cooped up for so long I think the fresh air will be good."
"I couldn’t agree more."
Chapter Twenty
Raquel:
"How much longer in the sling?" she asks as we amble down by the water.
"Because of both injuries, the doctor says six weeks," I answer. "But it's starting to feel much better. I think I should start being able to shower on my own soon."
"Well that's no fun," she laughs.
"You have been very helpful though seriously. I can't thank you enough."
Since we have been here, she has helped me with all my bathing needs. If I wasn't in such pain, the experience could have been erotic, but because of how hurt I was she was always very clinical about it. Except when she washed my hair. She massaged my head slowly, methodically, almost... lovingly. It was the most affection I had seen in a long time, and I savored it when she did it. Clients could be affectionate, but it was for their benefit alone, not mine. They were looking for that comfort, and they paid me to give it all the while leaving a part of me empty.
"I'm happy I could help," she says winking at me.
That wink always makes me tingle.
"So how much longer do you think we can stay here. Don't you have to work?"
"I'm sort of... in between jobs right now. But no worries, the government pays me nicely for almost losing a limb. Not to mention the other mental deficits that the war has left me with. Plus, I have a hefty savings account due to… well let’s just say I have a nice little nest egg.”
I look at her and feel great sadness for all that she's been through. I don't even know what exactly it is, but I can tell that it's been a lot.
"Well, I don't see any deficits. I think you're beautiful," I say as I put my hand out and touch her arm.
She stops walking and just looks at me as she slides her hands in her pockets.
"I don't see it. But thank you," she says quietly as she turns and begins walking again.
"And I bet you tell all your clients that," she says in a failed attempt to make a joke. I don't find it funny. I reach out and grab her arm again stopping her.
"Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk about yourself like that. You are gorgeous. And so is your soul. I know we don't know each other that well, but not many people would just up and leave their lives to help someone that they barely know. Especially someone like me. And I'm not saying this because you are paying me. You haven't paid me in weeks."
I can't help but laugh at my last thought, and this elicits a smile from her as well.
"I haven't always been in this life you know. I actually used to be pretty normal," she says as she starts walking again.
"So how did you end up here?"
"Bad choices. I followed the wrong girlfriend when I was twenty. We made so much money in the beginning. But the drugs were the biggest draw. I wouldn't say that I was ever an addict, but I was reliant on them. Especially when the head pimp wanted to "try out" the merchandise. I've known that I was a lesbian since I was fourteen years old. I had never been with a man before, and I never wanted to ever again after that. He tore me in three different places, and then expected me to work the next day. That's how it started. The abuse. But because I gutted it out, I became his favorite. "If Raquel can take it then so can the rest of you." He used to call me his "pillar of strength" because nothing seemed to break me. But it was just survival. My parents threw me out when I was seventeen, so I had nowhere to go and everything I had he took. I'm originally from Ohio, so the ex-girlfriend led me far from home. I had no skills. Well, at least no marketable ones. "Good with tongue and fingers" doesn't really look good on a resume. And now here I am."
"If you could be anything else what would you be?"
“I’d be a teacher.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Andrea:
We walk to where the lake curves around and realize we have gone far. I put my hand on her shoulder and guide her back around. But I let my hand slide down to the small of her back and leave it there.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that. It sounds awful.”
“It was, but it wasn’t without its good points.”
“What could possibly be good about any of that?” I ask more loudly than I intend to, but she just smiles at me.
“Well… I did meet you.”
We walk back to the house and sit on the back porch swing just enjoying the fresh air and the solitude.
“What happened to your arm? If you don’t mind me asking? And please, don’t be afraid to tell me to mind my business if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m just curious.”
“Mind your business,” I say but can’t keep a straight face and start laughing. “No, it’s okay. You shared a lot with me down by the lake I can share this with you.”
“You don’t have to. Like I said I’m just curious.”
“No, um... I was in Afghanistan you know, and I was a medic. My team got pinned down by some insurgents, and we were in quite a firefight. I took a bullet to the shoulder, but I saved a few guys in the meantime.”
“So, you’re a hero?”
My face tightens at the mention of that word. People use it all the time. But it couldn’t be more inaccurate.
“No. I’m not a hero. I lost two,” I say quietly.
“Out of how many?”
“A squad of twelve.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty good ratio.”
“Good men died that day. Husbands. Fathers. Boyfriends. Brothers. Any loss is a bad ratio.” I say this far angrier and louder than I intend to. “Look I’m sorry. I know you don’t understand what happened there. It’s not your fault. But it’s something I have to live with every day. I’m just trying to make sense of it, and while it does get a little clearer every day, it’s still an uphill struggle.”
I put my hand on her knee and give it a light squeeze.
“I’m sorry for yelling. It’s something that I’m working on.”
She looks at me and gives me a small understanding smile. I think she gets it.
“Hey, are you hungry? We can order pizza from Jay’s. Mike swears by it.”
“Yeah, I could definitely eat.”
***
After we eat, we go out onto the back porch. It's been a gorgeous day and one where I finally don't feel scared.
