Chapter 13 #2
"So it's gonna be even more difficult to let yourself be vulnerable," Dru said. "We get that. And I know Dane does. But the first step, since I'm handing out unsolicited advice, is to just let yourself feel things. Which I know is hard when you're used to shoving all that shit aside."
I stared out the window at the rippling, shimmering waters of the Passage, swallowing hard, eyes burning—I let them burn.
Let tears slip out. "I've been on my own my whole life.
The closest thing to a family I've ever had is Rune and her parents.
And they are, quite literally, the only reason I'm…
" I shook my head, at a loss for the right words.
"They fed me, clothed me, and helped me when my car took a shit.
Paid for therapy. But at the end of the day, you get in bed alone, and it's just you and your thoughts, and I…
I sometimes feel ungrateful for feeling lonely or whatever when I know I had—and have—Rune and Mom and Pop Rigby.
I just…" I sighed. "I don't know what I'm even trying to say. "
"That's okay,” she said. “Maybe you just need to express all that stuff that you haven't let yourself express.
All those thoughts and feelings that we label as ungrateful or spiteful or whatever…
the sadness, the loneliness, the anger, the bitterness.
We lock all that up in a vault somewhere around our stomachs and ignore it.
And you know what happens? It turns physical.
It makes your back hurt. It makes your stomach hurt.
It fills you with this bubbling, festering, fermenting sea of nastiness inside that has nowhere to go. "
A strange, high-pitched keening sound erupted from my throat, a tight, teeth-gritted half-scream of raw emotion too potent for anything so prosaic as mere words.
"I'm so angry!” I hissed through my teeth.
"I never had a mother. I never had a father.
My brother was a nightmare—a useless troublemaker at best. And it was his best fucking friend who ruined me.
I've spent my entire life running, hiding, suppressing, pretending…
hating him, hating myself, hating my brother, hating my mother for not protecting me, for blaming me when I was the fucking victim.
I've tried to…to be okay, and I'm fucking not.
I'm tired!" My knees wobbled, and I sank to the ground, to my hands and knees, gulping ragged hot breaths.
"I'm so fucking tired of fighting. Of being sad.
Of being scared. Of hating. It's so exhausting, hating. It’s exhausting trying to act like you're not a fucking zombie on the inside. "
I felt hands on my back, body heat on either side of me, hands holding my hair back, stroking my back.
It felt like vomiting. You know the feeling: you've had too much to drink and the earth is wobbling unsteadily and whirling around you, so you lay down on the couch with one foot on the floor hoping to steady the universe a little bit, and your stomach is sour and boiling and acidic and hot and you don't want to vomit but you know you'll feel better once you do but you still fight it back until it's a hot flood surging against the back of your teeth, and then you finally lurch and stumble to the bathroom and let 'er rip.
It sucks, the process of emptying it all out.
But then once you're finally done, fuck, you feel so much better.
"Why me?" I rasped, my voice a hoarse whisper.
"Why me? Why did Danny have to pick me? It's not like I want anyone else to go through what I did, but I just…
I can't help asking why me? Wasn’t it enough to not have a dad?
It wasn't enough that my mother was a useless piece of fucking human garbage?
It wasn't enough that my brother was mean, cruel, vindictive, troublemaking fucking cunt?
I had to be sexually abused every fucking day for four fucking years?
And now I have to live with that! Where's the goddamned justice? "
My phone rang, just then. I dug it out of the pocket in the thigh of my leggings and glanced at the screen—it wasn't a number I recognized, but a niggling feeling in my gut told me to answer it.
"Heh—" I had to clear my throat and try again. "Hello? This is Lindsey Snelling."
"Good evening, Miss Snelling. My name is Special Agent Cameron Urie. We met briefly in Los Angeles."
"You arrested Danny Cohen," I said, recognizing the voice—the Patrick Warburton lookalike had a similarly recognizable voice.
"Yes ma'am." A pause, a clearing of his throat. "I thought you would like to know—Daniel Cohen is dead."
The world tilted; it was a good thing I was already on all fours or I would have fallen down. "I…he…how? In prison?"
"Yes ma'am. We don't have too many details other than he was shivved in the food line.
We aren't certain who or why, but such things are, unfortunately, all too common.
It could be as simple as a disagreement over cigarettes or a card game, or it could be he made an enemy who got to him on the inside. "
"Honestly, Special Agent Urie, I don't care who or why. He got exactly what he deserved, and I will not be wasting a single second mourning him."
"No one will, ma'am. I'm not supposed to say things like this in my offical capacity as a law enforcement officer, but Daniel Cohen was a real piece of shit."
"He sexually abused me for four years, starting when I was twelve."
The silence, then, was profound. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Snelling. He did indeed get what was coming to him."
"I'm tempted to send an edible arrangement to whoever shivved him," I said. “They did the world a favor."
"I am inclined to agree, ma'am. Well, I've got to go. I just wanted to make sure you were aware. You don't ever have to worry about him again."
"That's the best news I've had since you showed up to arrest him."
"Glad I could provide at least some kind of comfort, Miss Snelling. No one deserves what that creature did to you. Speaking as a father of a daughter, I don't know that I could have stood in a room with him and not committed murder."
I sniffed a laugh, now sitting on my shins as if I were Daniel-San at the Cobra Kai dojo. "I thought about it. But I…I wasted way too many years hating him. If I'd been the one to kill him, even if I got away with it, it wouldn't have brought me any peace."
"I can guarantee you it wouldn't have, Miss Snelling. I've seen a lot in my line of work, as I'm sure you can imagine. I've seen the aftermath of revenge, and it's never pretty. Revenge is a game with no winners, only losers."
"Glad I chose the other path, then," I said. "Thank you for telling me, Agent Urie."
"Of course, ma'am. Take care."
"You, too."
I tossed the phone to the floor, tipped my head back, and blinked at the ceiling. "He's dead."
Dane was beside me, sitting cross-legged, close enough to touch but very carefully giving me space. "Are you relieved or…?"
I nodded. "Honestly, yes. I know you're not supposed to be happy when someone dies, but…I am." I laughed. "Is it terrible that I feel lighter and freer knowing both my mother and Danny are gone?"
Dane shook his head. "I don't think it is. I didn't know your mom had died."
I shrugged. "I didn't either. Danny was the one who told me, ironically. I guess she got some kind of super-aggressive cancer and was gone within a few months. Good riddance to the old bitch, and good riddance to Daniel Hezekiah Cohen."
I looked at Dru, on my left. "Thank you, Dru."
She wrapped one arm around me. "Anything, any time. You're family now, no matter what happens."
I sagged, hunched over. "It may take me some time to lean into that."
She squeezed me with that arm. "That's okay.
We've got a lot of big personalities in this family, and all of us have been through some shit.
You have a support system in place, now, Lindsey.
I know it won't come easily or naturally, at first, but just try to let us help you if and when you need it. "
I let myself lean against her. She was soft and warm and comforting. At first, I just leaned sideways, but then something dissolved inside me and I twisted toward her.
My eyes burned again, but I couldn't find the courage to fight them.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a motherly hug—Rune's mom, a few months ago, probably.
I wasn't a platonic huggy sort of person, generally.
But just then, with Dru's arms around me and her warm spirit and calming, soothing energy surrounding me, I just…
collapsed into her, sobbing hysterically.
"Oh, oh, oh," Dru murmured, gathering me against her chest, petting my hair, and rocking me like a baby. Which, to my eternal mortification, was wonderfully and inexplicably comforting. “There we go, there we go. Let it out, sweetheart. It's okay."
The world evaporated as I let go of the last strangling bonds of restraint, of emotional suppression.
I'd wept for the child I was, and I'd wept for what Danny did to me, but I'd never wept for my lack of a mom.
I'd never wept for the ache of loneliness I'd always felt, even when I had Rune and the Rigbys and Raquel.
I'd never wept for how fucking hard life could be, even without trauma.
I let Dru Badd hold me, and I let myself go. With the amount of crying I'd done over the last two months, you'd think I'd be all cried out, but apparently not.
When my tears finally cleared up, I straightened, sniffling, and wiped at my face. "I'm sorry. I just—"
Her hand covered my mouth. "No ma'am. No apologizing. A mama knows when someone needs a hug and a good cry."
I nodded, glancing at Dane, who was sitting and watching, a soft smile on his face. "Not the reunion you were hoping for, huh?"
He shifted closer to me, resting a hand on my knee. "It's what you need. All I care about is you."