Chapter 9 Silver
SILVER
The door flies open before I can knock again, and Solana crashes into me. She buries her face into my chest, her whole body shaking from the force of her sobs.
“I-I can’t—I wish I c-could—but now I’m remembering—s-so much worse—” she rambles between her cries.
I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. Her tears have already soaked through my shirt. If she keeps crying like this, she’s going to make herself sick and pass out.
“Hey,” I rasp gently, peeling her off me. “Shhh, it’s alright. Let’s sit down.”
I guide us inside, kicking the door shut behind me. I already know we have the house to ourselves. Moses took some time off to party with some pals in Vegas. Big Ed’s busy tonight handling some debts owed to us; he won’t be done for another couple hours.
The whole house is quiet. It’s immediately lonely, even for a forty-something-year-old man like me. I can’t imagine how it’s felt for her.
We sit down on the couch with Solana still trembling so violently, I can feel it just by sitting next to her.
“Breathe,” I say. “Just take it one breath at a time, alright?”
She nods, eyes glassy and unfocused. She’s shell-shocked… as if she’s struggling to process something.
I’ve seen this look before on guys who’ve witnessed things no sane person should.
Solana curls into herself, gasping between sobs, her fingers digging into her knees. It takes her another moment to calm down enough to even remotely speak.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say patiently. As patient as I can manage when instincts already demand blood for whoever’s hurt her.
But I can’t fly off the handle. I can’t approach this situation like a bull in a china shop—it would get us nowhere and cause Solana to shut down. She’d possibly grow scared and refuse to even tell me what’s going on.
Instinct tells me she needs someone to confide in very badly or this won’t end well.
“I didn’t…” she stammers, then pauses for another sob. She shakes her head and mops at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. “I didn’t tell you everything. La-last Sunday when you picked me up.”
I already knew that. It was more than obvious she was hiding vital information.
One look at her told me she had reason to be distressed. No woman winds up with bruises and a torn dress for good reason.
She hiccups, then gulps down more air. “I didn’t… I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t remember. But… but when I woke up…”
“You can tell me,” I prompt when she trails off again. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”
“I… I woke up n-naked. In K-Kel’s bed.”
“Who’s Kel?” I demand without thinking to censor myself. It comes out rougher than I intend, more growl than patient question. Red’s already creeping into the edges of my vision.
More tears stream down her cheeks as she looks down at our feet on the floor. I draw a calming breath and force myself to dial it back.
She needs a stable shoulder to cry on right now, not rage.
“Sorry,” I say softer. “Who’s Kel?”
But she doesn’t answer the question. Probably because she suspects why I want to know. Instead she shakes her head and goes on with her stream of consciousness.
“Nobody would tell me what happened. My friends… they just kept calling me blackout and making jokes, and I… I couldn’t remember and now…
I know why they wouldn’t tell me. Kel and me—we had sex.
He had sex with me. I couldn’t move. I felt so sick and the room was spinning. But he didn’t… he wouldn’t—”
She can’t bring herself to finish. But I can fill in the blanks. The bruises she mentioned. Waking up confused and naked. Friends who won’t give straight answers. Some piece of shit named Kel.
“Come here,” I murmur, pulling her against me. She breaks down again, sobbing into my shoulder while I hold her, one hand smoothing her hair while my other clenches into a fist behind her back.
I’m going to kill him. Whoever Kel is, he’s dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.
But that’s for later. Right now, this girl needs help.
“It’s gonna be okay,” I say, even though nothing about this is okay. “I’m gonna help you through this. We’re gonna handle it.”
She pulls back, eyes almost swollen shut from crying. “I… I don’t know what to do.”
“First things first—have you seen a doctor?”
She shakes her head. “The bruises are gone. Everything’s faded. I’m not even sore anymore. It’s been over a week.”
“Doesn’t matter. You need to get checked out.”
“Kel uses condoms,” she says. She averts her gaze from mine like she’s suddenly embarrassed. “When I asked him… he said he used one.”
“I don’t give a damn what he said. You say you can’t remember it. You’ve got to be sure. There’s a twenty-four-hour clinic across town. They’ll take care of you, run tests, make sure you’re healthy.”
“I don’t want to—”
“Solana, you’ve got to let them look at you,” I interrupt, taking her hands in mine. “This is important. They can help. They can document things, get you resources, whatever you need.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course I’m coming with you. We’ll go now, alright?”
She nods, letting me help her to her feet. I grab her jacket from a hook by the door and offer it to her.
Everything about how she’s carrying herself says exhausted and drained. She’s been through it just by remembering more details from that night.
“Silver?” she mumbles as I open my truck door for her.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry to pull you into this.”
There’s a sad air of defeat about her, as if she believes this is some chore. She’s bothered me by reaching out. She thinks she’s a burden.
Then I remember how empty her house is and how Big Eddie and Moses aren’t as around as maybe they should be. Her friends are shit.
No wonder she thinks what she does.
My hand cups the back of her head in a soft caress as I hold the truck door open for her and wait for her to climb in.
“Don’t ever apologize to me,” I say earnestly. “I’m always gonna be here for you, alright? If there’s one thing you don’t ever forget, don’t forget that.”
The twenty-four-hour clinic in town is nearly empty except for two people at the front desk clutching their paper bag of medicine. One of them has a cast while the other swipes their card in a card machine.
The place is quiet and discreet, tucked out of the way on the corner of some shopping mall. But on the inside the lights are bright, washing out everything they touch.
Solana shrinks into herself as we step toward the front desk to be checked in.
“You’re not leaving, right?” she whispers.
“I’ll be right here in the waiting room,” I promise. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A nurse calls her name only a few minutes later. Solana looks back at me one more time, eyes wide with fear, before following the woman down a narrow hallway.
The door clicks shut, and I’m alone with uncomfortable plastic chairs and the clatter of the receptionist’s keyboard as she types into her computer.
I drop into a seat, elbows on my knees, hands clasped tight. Every minute that ticks by is torture.
My mind goes to dark places, imagining what she went through and what this Kel bastard did to her while she was too drunk to fight back.
Damn sure too drunk to consent to anything.
Kel.
I turn the name over in my head.
There’s already a bullet with his name on it. I don’t know him yet, but I will. Small towns like Pulsboro and Wheaton, it won’t be too hard to find some college punk named Kel.
And when I do...
The rage builds ’til my hands throb from it. I have to clench them into fists to keep myself remotely sane.
This isn’t just about Eddie’s niece anymore. This is about a young woman who called me when she had no one else. She trusted me enough to bring her here after walking around for over a week in the dark about what even happened to her.
Whoever this Kel is, he just made himself a mortal enemy. He should be very, very afraid.
An hour passes. A couple other patients come and go—a mom with a fevered toddler and then an old man with a rattling cough.
Normal problems. Fixable problems. Not like what Solana’s dealing with.
Finally, the door opens and she walks out, looking smaller than she had when she went in. Almost as if she’s deflated of air, her shoulders curved and arms folded. She’s clutching a white paper bag full of what I imagine is medication.
The nurse speaks quietly to her, handing over some pamphlets she immediately stuffs into the bag.
“Ready?” I ask, standing.
She nods, not meeting my eyes.
In the truck, I wait ’til we’re back on the road before asking, “You alright? What’d they say?”
“They want me to come back in a week,” she says flatly. She’s emotionless, having cried every tear possible. “For another pregnancy test. Just to be sure since I couldn’t take a morning after pill. And, um, to get the results from the other tests.”
She doesn’t need to clarify for me to get what she means. They must’ve done some bloodwork for things like STDs and HIV. Things that could change her whole life because some asshole couldn’t keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants. He had to take advantage of some blackout drunk girl.
“They gave me some pills. Antibiotics just in case,” she goes on miserably. She stares out the window at Pulsboro rolling by in the darkness. “I… I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I am though,” she insists. “I’ve brought this whole thing on myself. I was the one who snuck into bars underage. I was the one using fake IDs and ordering drinks when I shouldn’t have been—”
“Solana—”
“I thought they were my friends. I… I thought they actually cared about me. But I should’ve known better.
I never fit in with them. It’s like it was all some big joke,” she rambles, sighing.
“They all knew. They all knew I slept with him and thought it was hilarious. Called me blackout like it was some cute nickname.”
I clench my jaw, staring straight ahead at the roads. “It’s still not your fault. You didn’t ask for it to happen.”