6. Grace
6
Grace
A female officer sat across from me, her leg tucked over her knee, her foot bouncing as she scribbled on a notepad.
Machines beeped and whirred their mechanical noises, dripping fluids and pain relief into my veins.
My knee had a clean bill of health, just a bruised bone. They'd reset my shoulder once again and x-rayed my skull and rib.
"Okay, Sarah." She popped her eyes up from her paper. "Is there anything else you can tell me about who took you?"
I stared at the spot on the wall.
Was it growing?
"Sarah?"
"Hmm?" I tore my focus away and looked at the woman in her mid-fifties, wearing a black uniform with her name tag embroidered above the right breast.
"Is there anything else you can tell me?"
I shook my head, wincing.
Why didn't I give her a different name?
"So, you didn't get a good look at the men? And how long did they hold you for?"
"A few days… I think."
They couldn't help me.
I'd be a fool if I gave them his information. He had people with a reach further than the eye could see.
He was impervious to the law.
Hell, even she could be on his payroll.
"And you never knew his name?" Her brows created a furrowed line of doubt across her forehead, and the corners of her mouth dipped .
"No."
I feigned a yawn and covered my mouth with my hand, leaned my head back against the flat pillow, and then pulled the itchy hospital blanket up to my chin.
She gave a subtle shake of her head. "I'm almost done. A few more questions, and then you can rest." The pen in her hand tumbled to the floor with a clatter, and she picked it up. "You left the emergency contact on your paperwork blank. Why?"
"I don't have anyone."
"No friends or family? What about a boyfriend?"
I shook my head. "I'm an orphan and never had the opportunity to date."
The woman flicked a brown strand of hair away from her brow, then scribbled something down. "Okay, and how did you get to Mexico?"
My stomach churned, and my heart hit the gas pedal.
"Hey, girl."
A man in his late thirties bends over me, my hair hanging over the side of the park bench.
I sat straight up, a tingle coursing down my skin as he glanced over me.
"Do you need help?" He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, his Spanish accent strong. "We're making a trip to the women's shelter. You can catch a ride with us."
I swallow, his chiseled jawline covered with dark short hairs and the dark eyes like that of chocolate.
"I'm okay."
He cocks his head to the side and smiles. "It's no trouble, and they have warm food."
I glance around the dark, empty park, the pigeons cooing their nighttime songs.
"They might even have pizza tonight."
My stomach growls at the thought of cheese coating my tongue. "Fine."
"Excellent." He claps his hands and nabs my backpack from the bench. "My name's Miguel, and yours?"
"Are you still with me, Sarah?"
I took in a short breath, then licked my chapped lips. "Someone offered to take me to a women's shelter."
"And what happened next?"
I closed my eyes, then glanced out of the large square window. "They didn't take me there."
"Do you have any other details?"
Their laughter that night piqued in my mind. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I understand, but if you help us, we can take steps to ensure this won't happen to anyone else."
Heat crawled across my cheeks as Sarah's glassy eyes flashed in my mind. "I said no."
I'd helped enough people, brought them to the brink of happiness, then watched them take their last breaths.
I didn't help anyone.
I doomed them.
The woman slid the pen through the spiral binding with a metallic dut, dut, dut , then stood with an exasperated sigh. "I really hope you change your mind, Sarah." She tucked the pad under her arm. "One more thing before I go." She tapped her finger to the back of her ear, and my stomach went cold. "What does this mean? We've seen it before, but you're the only one alive to tell us."
I set my jaw as I stared at her through watery eyes.
Buzz.
" Hold her still."
I scream as sharp needles penetrate my sensitive skin. Hands hold me down, and blood ceases to flow through my limbs.
"Goodbye, Detective Gonzalez."
She sucked in a long and slow deep breath through her nose, then left the room.
I rolled my head to the side and stared out the window that looked out to the other wall of the hospital some distance away.
I've stayed too long.
My heart pattered in my chest as I gripped the IV tubes, took a deep breath, and tugged. The tape tore my skin and the small fine hairs until it came away, leaving spurting blood in its wake.
I pressed my trembling hand against the minuscule hole, its presence a mere whisper of pain beneath my touch. I slid off the bed and rushed into the bathroom, covering the distance in long strides.
They didn't make reaching those rough brown paper towels easy for someone who had their arm pinned to their chest while that hand staunched the gore from carpeting the tiled floor in a crimson bath.
I pressed the towel into my hand, the coarse texture scraping against my abused skin. My teeth ground together, avoiding the rebellious outcry that tightened my throat. I squeezed my eyes closed, inhaled and exhaled five deep breaths through my nose, and then looked down as I lifted the towel.
The blood dribbled, unlike the aggravated spring it had been moments ago, causing my shoulders to sag.
Holding my hand tighter, I stared at my gaunt reflection in the mirror.
It'd only been a few hours since I'd last dared to look at myself, and although nothing had changed, I still didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.
Black circles welled beneath my eyes, and my sunken cheeks highlighted my prominent cheekbones.
A short line of stitches hid in my hairline beside my temple, and small scabs across my forehead and cheeks stuck out against the red raised edges.
Is it normal to not recognize the body I grew up in?
I glanced down at my hand, the blood oozing like thick sludge.
Good enough.
I tossed the paper in the trash, grabbed the white plastic bag hanging on the back of the bathroom door, tore off the hospital gown with buttons on the shoulders, and dressed in the oversized clothing I arrived in, my rosary still tucked in my pants pocket.
My arm remained tucked inside my shirt as I slipped on my shoes, then grabbed my half-eaten pudding and snuck out of the door.
Nurses worked at their stations, their eyes never wavering from their computer screens. A woman stood in front of the patient’s whiteboard with a doctor and chatted, their arms crossed over their chests.
A slow smile crept up my lips as I shuffled away from my hospital room, down the hall, and out the tall glass front doors.
Fresh air slithered up my sinuses and filled my lungs, eliminating the sterile, filtered hospital air. I stood for a beat, taking in the parking lot, the bright blue sky with a smattering trace of gray clouds and the field of dried grasses and brush. A white metal fence bordered the hospital parking lot in a curious fashion, as though they wanted to keep people in.
Or were they trying to keep people out?
Cars rushed by on the two-lane road at a decent clip. Boys and girls sat beneath the shaded shelter waiting for the public transit, wearing khaki pants and white shirts while the girls sported plaid skirts and knee-high socks.
Peace .
No more screams.
No more crying.
No more pain.
I was free .
Tears burned my eyes as I walked through the parking lot and wandered the streets littered with trash.
A homeless camp with tarps, tents, and shopping carts was in the middle of a field wrapping around the city.
Maybe they'd know where to get a bite to eat.
My mother used to say the men and women who lived on the streets were the most resourceful in our broken society. They knew where to get food, what building was the best for shelter, and what people to stay away from. Most of them were good-hearted folks who were down on their luck, suffered from mental illness or addiction, or preferred the streets to living the nine-to-five.
I walked for twenty minutes before turning down a road that wasn't much different than the one across the border. Residents parked their cars on the side of the street and palm trees ran in a straight line. A cell tower stood in the distance, and the power lines hummed.
A pulsating ache throbbed through my weary feet while sharp tendrils of pain shot up the back of my ankles. I sat on the unforgiving cement steps that led up to a Catholic church, its walls standing tall behind me, akin to an impenetrable fortress.
The sun beat down its powerful rays, forming beads of sweat against my brow.
How could I sleep in this weather?
I reached down and tugged off my shoe with a grimace. Blood smeared along my ankle from a large, opened blister. I wiggled my toes, then took off the next one with the same results.
Walking the streets without shoes on wasn't such a big deal. I'd run for three days without them in the woods with prevalent desert cacti and thorns hidden within the dirt. If I could do it there, I could do it on paved sidewalks.
The doors behind me opened, and two elderly women wearing all black as though in mourning stepped out, their gaze avoidant of me sitting on the steps as they talked among themselves.
If it hadn't been for the shower I'd taken earlier in the day before I'd left, I could have played the part of a vagrant.
A man stepped outside, his hand braced against the swinging door. "Ladies, don't forget about bingo tomorrow night."
He glanced down at me, and a smile spread across his face, his eyes softening. I returned his smile as my gaze shifted to the Roman Collar tucked around his neck, then back to his furrowing brows.
"We'll be there, although we might be a little late. Clare has to pick up her granddaughter from piano practice."
His focus moved back to the women as they spoke and then nodded. "We'll save you a seat."
"Thank you, Father Franklin."
"God bless."
They waved and moved down the sidewalk toward a blue sedan.
"You've seen better days, child. Is there something we can do for you?"
His gentle tone caressed my nerves in a soothing wave.
Father Franklin's gaze moved to my bare feet, and I tucked them closer to my body, hiding them from view.
"I'm…" Heat brushed my cheeks.
It had been a long while since I'd asked anyone for help, and the last time I did—
Father Franklin waved me inside, holding the door open wider. "Come. I have coffee, tea, and some donuts left over from our meeting."
Sanctuary beckoned me as I stood with my stolen shoes in hand. The opened scabbed cuts on my feet left rusty smudges on the cement.
I stood at the entrance and peered inside. Pews lined an aisle with dim lighting as though it were meant to hide your secrets from everyone around you except the big man upstairs.
He knew and saw everything , my parents had said.
"It's safe in here if that's what you're worried about." He paused and gave me a warm smile as he pointed inside with an open palm. "Sister Tally is cleaning up the chairs if you'd feel more comfortable."
I looked down the sidewalk.
Where else would I go?
An ache formed in my throat, and my heartbeat ramped up as I sidestepped him into the church.
A blast of air blew over my perspired skin, and chills rippled along my body. I wrapped my arm over my bound one and shivered, my shoes hanging from my fingertips.
Father Franklin shut the door, then stood beside me. "Sister Tally, would you come here, please?"
The woman wearing robes and a cloth over her hair walked towards us with a smile spreading across her face. She wiped her hands together, then adjusted the large crucifix hanging around her neck.
"Yes, Father?"
"Could you take this young lady and get her something to eat and drink?"
"Of course." She nodded and sidled up beside me, her hand coming around my back yet never touching me. "Are you from around here?"
I shook my head, my tongue heavy as she led me to the side wall with a foldable gray table. A blue box of donuts sat in the center of it, and a tall stainless steel cylinder with two spouts on the bottom.
"Would you like some tea, coffee, or water?" Her soft voice had a lyrical lull to it.
"Anything is fine. Thank you."
She grabbed a Styrofoam cup, poured hot water into it, nabbed a teabag, and dunked it into the steaming cup. "How about a bit of chamomile?"
I nodded and looked over my shoulder.
Where did Father Franklin go?
The church's center sat like a vacant cavern inside, except light filtered through the stained glass window depicting a man standing with his hands pressed together in prayer, his robes touching the tops of his feet. Below that was a large cross on an altar with a cloth running the length of the table, the ends draped over with tassels.
A large organ commanded the corner, its pipes reaching for the heavens as if the music would soothe God's ears.
"Come have a seat."
She walked away, and I followed her to the first pew at the front of the church. We sat, and she handed me the cup with a protective lid over it.
"Thank you." My voice faltered, reduced to nothing more than a fragile whisper.
"Are you in trouble?" She glanced down at my feet, and again, I drew them closer, tucking them beneath the pew.
Flutters turned my belly, and the pounding in my chest pushed pressure up my throat and ears .
I was free.
"I…" I took a sip of the tea and hissed.
Fire lit up along my upper lip, and the tip of my tongue scorched. I rolled my lips, transferred the cup to my other hand trapped against my body, and then touched my mouth with the other.
"We've been trying to get that temperature just right, but the dial is so finicky. Would you like some ice, dear?"
I shook my head and looked around, her studious stare rippling unease throughout my nerves.
"The hospital released me, but I have nowhere to go."
Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. "How old are you?"
Sister Tally placed her hands in her lap, interlacing her fingers in a gentle hold.
"I'll be twenty in a few months."
"The world is a cruel place to burden you at such a young age."
Stinging and burning spread across my eyes, and I blinked, working the tears back into hiding.
"We have a room for instances like this. If you'd like a place to lay your head for the night, you're welcome to it. We even have a few donation boxes you could go through and see if something fits."
I sat up straight and looked her way. Her kind eyes crinkled at the corners as her smile accentuated the fine lines.
"Thank you. I'd like that."
"I bet we even have a couple of packages of socks in there for you." Sister Tally leaned in, her smile never wavering, then stood. "I'll show you."