Chapter 16
STEVIE
My brain fog is a constant as I’m in and out of sleep, which is splintered by nightmares.
Visions of Ace’s face near mine. His hands and cock violating me.
The warehouse ordeal is burned into the backs of my eyelids and worms its way into my subconscious.
I’ve lost the ability to care anymore. Depression set in before my kidnapping, and now I’m in a pit of sadness and fear.
I’ve been at Kingston’s home for a week.
The only rooms I’ve seen so far is this bedroom, the washroom, and Kingston’s bedroom.
When I have my nightmares at night, he brings me into his bed while saying nothing.
King simply takes me out of bed, tucks me under the covers in his room, and wraps his arms around me.
He doesn’t take advantage of me or hurt me.
It’s a simple, warm embrace. In truth, I sleep through the rest of the night without another night terror.
He must be warding them off. In the mornings, I wake alone in his bed, return to the room I’ve been using, and ignore his offer of breakfast. He’s an awkward Neanderthal, grunting when things don’t go his way, yet there’s a comfort in his behavior.
Somehow my belongings magically appeared in the room, except I’m still wearing his t-shirt.
I’m stuck in limbo, numb from emotion and exhaustion.
The bed is my peace place, curling up, hoping I’ll evaporate, so I’ll be relieved of the memories of Moose Grove.
Unfortunately, King has other plans. He’ll wake me to force soup down my throat, and when I turn away after a few mouthfuls, covering myself with the blanket, he grumbles out of the room.
Every evening, he’ll prepare the shower, stacking clean towels on the shelf.
He even bought a stool. Since I’m alone, I just wet my hair, drop the towel on the floor, and crawl back into bed.
Maybe he realizes I’m not showering and he’s too tired to argue, or he doesn’t care because he’s busy cleaning up after me.
He's a neat fanatic. The days have blended into each other. King doesn’t have a set schedule at the tattoo shop, so he startles me with his abrupt entrances, carrying food and drinks.
This early morning, I left his room to go into mine, burying myself under the covers, staring at the wall.
Tears freely fall, wetting the pillow. It appears this is my life, or what little there is, since I don’t have a job or my own place.
But more importantly, I don’t have the will to change it.
I never thought I could be so tired at the age of thirty-seven.
My younger years were spent caring for my mother, which I don’t regret.
It’s the wasted years with Noel during and after my mother’s death I regret.
When it ended, I struggled to pay the bills.
Then survivor’s guilt brought me to Moose Grove, which has been an endless parade of misery.
Now, I’m in the house of the convict who refuses to let me be.
Who sexually assaulted and tattooed me without remorse.
Who holds me at night to fend off my nightmares.
How fucking screwed up and pathetic is my life?
There are several voices in the house, but I’ve learned to ignore them. I assume they’re his biker friends. King is a man of few words. His clumsy, graceless ways are performed in silence. He does what he wants or what he thinks is right, forgetting there’s another human involved.
The door opens, which I’m glad my back is to.
Today, depression eats at my bones. I’m really not in the mood to deal with King.
But instead of him, the women from the salon pour into the room, gathering at the side of the bed.
Lynette kneels in front of me, and I close my eyes.
This horror life is never-ending. They’ve mentally tortured me, and then they watched someone else do the same while raping me.
A hand touches my covered arm, causing my eyes to open, as Lynette softly says, “Hey, Stevie. How are you doing?” I blink, but say nothing. “We came by to see how you are and maybe pamper you.”
Nothing comes to mind, and I’m tired of blinking, so I close my eyes again. They shuffle around the room. At this point, if they want to harm me, I’m open to it.
Lynette says, “First off, I want to apologize for what I did. For what all of us did.” The tears leak out faster now. “Frost asked us a favor, and because we’re family, we did him the favor.” There’s a pause, and she adds, “But we regret it. We’re sorry.”
I hear her on the floor, scooting closer to me, except this conversation isn’t one I choose to be involved in. Give me sleep.
“I want to thank you for not giving me up to that guy. While you were…well, you could have spilled, but you didn’t. I’m indebted to you forever.”
Forever. Lucky me.
Lynette lets out a long sigh. “I understand what you’re going through.
I remember when I was raped.” My eyes remain closed, but this catches my attention.
“It was the last day of sophomore year in high school. Everyone was excited for summer break. My senior boyfriend, Clay, told me he had a surprise for me after school. We drove to a picnic area by a lake, went for a swim, and then we took a walk in the woods. The subject of sex came up, and I told him I wasn’t ready.
Not ready meant nothing to him. He raped me in the woods, hand covering my mouth as I stared up at the trees, praying he’ll be done soon.
The pain was unbearable. Afterward, he acted like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t steal the one precious thing I had from me.
” She clears her throat. “Of course, both of our experiences were different, and mine was long ago…it’s just… you’re not alone.”
Another person sits down near me, and says, “I remember my rape.” Another one?
“Prom night. The boy I loved, the one I spent all four high school years with, raped me. We had done everything else but have sex. He was going away to college, and wanted to leave me with something to remember him by. Unfortunately, I haven’t forgotten. ”
Three other women talk about their experiences, all the while my eyes remain closed, and tears spill onto my pillow. It’s heartbreaking to hear their stories. And shocking at how many women have gone through such a horrific ordeal.
Lynette adds, “Alicia, too.” My eyes pop open, and she nods.
“Yeah, that’s how she met her husband Hayes Gunthrie.
” I pull myself into a seated position. “Alicia got a bit drunk, stumbling out of a bar and walking to her car. She was wearing a cute little skirt, blouse to match, and heels. A guy caught her from the back, slamming her over the front of a car. He tore her underwear and raped her. Midway through, Hayes showed up and beat the fuck out of the guy. Put him in the hospital.”
“She never said anything to me. Then again, we had only reconnected six months prior to our road trip mostly talking about our younger years.”
She nudges me over, and sits next to me. “I’m sure she would have gotten around to it at some point.” Brushing the hair off my shoulder, she says, “How about you shower and let us pamper you?”
“Huh?”
Lynette signals to the woman Willow, who brings over a suitcase, opening it on the bed. It’s loaded with lotions, nail polish, and other items I have never used.
“We’d love to pamper you. Take a shower, and we’ll give you a little massage, and paint your nails and toes.”
I’m shaking my head before she finishes. “No thank you.”
She takes my splint in her hand. “We came here to care for you and have some girl talk. I promise you we won’t hurt you, Stevie.
Like I said, I’m indebted to you. And for a small gesture of an apology, we’d like to spoil you.
” Lynette puts the suitcase on the floor, and reaches her hand out.
“Come on, I’ll help you there and you can shower on your own. Then we’ll bathe you in relaxation.”
For all she’s done to me, I surprise myself by taking her hand and going into the shower.
This time, I actually wash my hair and body.
When I’m done, I come out to fresh linens and pillowcases, and some spritzed lavender in the room and on the bed linens.
She situates me on the bed, propped up by pillows where they give me a massage, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel so alone.
Lynette oils up my arms, working my muscles, but not too hard.
Once I’m done, she sits on one side of me, Joslin on the other, and Willow and another girl by my feet.
She puts a box of nail polish on my lap and tells me to pick one or two, so I pick two.
While her and Joslin paint my nails, Willow and the other girl paint my toes. I observe them and smile. This is nice of them.
Joslin breaks into my thoughts by saying, “Now let’s talk Kingston.”
“There’s nothing to talk about other than he sexually assaulted me, gave me a GPS tattoo, and acts like a beast.”
They shake their heads and she responds, “It won’t be a popular opinion, but I’m thankful he gave you that tattoo. That’s how they found us.” Her thumb rubs over it. “But I had no idea about the sexual assault.” She curses. “He had no right.”
We all fall silent. I watch them paint my nails, and they chatter for a little bit between them. Stuff I don’t know anything about.
Willow asks, “How does King act like a beast toward you?”
I hesitate, biting my lower lip, and respond, “In the evenings, he demands I shower. He bought the stool in there for me, and then forces me to eat a little bit of whatever he makes. Every time I have a nightmare, he brings me into his bed and holds me.”
They all laugh, and Lynette says, “Yeah, that sounds horrible. How dare he make you shower, eat, and hold you when the demons come?”
Hearing it from her has me laughing along with them. “Okay, saying it aloud sounds better.”