Chapter 24
“When I was eight years old, my father died.”
She said it matter-of-factly. Truth was, she barely remembered him, and what few memories there might have been had been erased and overwritten by what came after.
“When I was ten, my mother remarried. My stepfather made it clear he didn’t really want kids, especially ones that weren’t his own, although he didn’t say so outright in front of my mother. Not at first.”
Saul was quiet, offering the kind of silent support that allowed her to speak of something she’d never told anyone before. Not in its entirety.
Sadie took a deep breath, steeling herself for what came next. Her fingers clenching against his abdomen, her knuckles white with the force.
Saul placed his hand over hers.
"At first, it was just little things. Snide comments when my mom wasn't around. Criticizing everything I did. But it escalated quickly." Her voice wavered slightly. "By the time I was twelve, he started... hurting me. Physically."
Saul's jaw clenched, but he remained silent, letting her continue at her own pace.
"He'd wait until Mom was at work. Take me to the garage." Sadie's eyes grew distant, lost in the painful memories. "There was this old wooden plank. He'd..." She swallowed hard. "He'd beat me with it. Said it was to toughen me up, make me stronger."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely.
"I tried to tell my mom, but she never believed me. Ned convinced her I was jealous. That I resented him taking my father’s place.
He said I inflicted my own injuries as a way to get attention.
She always took his side. Said I was being dramatic or trying to cause trouble. ”
Her breath faltered for a moment as she struggled with the memories of duplicity.
“That p-plank, it left deep bruises and grazes. It didn’t look like the usual kind of telltale injury you see on an abused kid.
One time the school realized I was injured, and after Ned got involved, the medic agreed they could have been self-inflicted, or I could have taken a nasty tumble. ”
Sadie gritted her teeth together and pushed away the foul taste of betrayal that sat on her tongue like poison.
Saul's hand twitched, as if he wanted to pull her in and comfort her, but he held back, and Sadie's voice grew softer, almost a whisper.
"It went on for years. The beatings got worse and he'd find any excuse to punish me.
If I got anything less than an A in school, if I was late coming home, if I looked at him the wrong way... "
She had to pause and take a moment.
“Another time I kicked up a stink, and a doctor said my injuries were inconclusive after Marcie - my mother - gave him the usual spiel about how I was ‘acting out’ after my dad’s death.
That got me into therapy, at least. I thought things would change after that, but I was wrong.
All it did was perpetuate Ned and Marcie’s claims. Ned would lay off the beatings so there was no evidence of abuse, and I earned myself a documented reputation as a pathological liar with possible histrionic personality disorder.
After that, any kind of claim was pointless.
All it did was hammer another nail into my own coffin. "
She paused, her breath shaky. Saul remained still, his eyes fixed on her, radiating a mix of concern and barely contained anger.
"When I turned sixteen, something changed in him. The way he looked at me..." Sadie shuddered. "One night, he came into my room. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He... he tried to..."
Her voice broke, and this time Saul couldn't stop himself. He moved his hand from where it lay lightly over hers, and gently drew her into his arms, winding them around her like he wanted to protect her with his embrace. Sadie tensed for a moment, then relaxed, drawing strength from his touch.
"I fought back," she continued, her voice stronger now. "There was a lamp on my bedside table. I grabbed it and swung as hard as I could. He went down, blood everywhere. I thought I'd killed him, and I wasn’t sad about it.”
Saul's grip tightened slightly, but still supportive rather than restraining.
Sadie's eyes met Saul's, a mix of defiance and lingering fear in her gaze.
"The police came. My mother was hysterical, screaming about how I was a monster, that I'd attacked her husband for no reason.
Of course, they didn't believe me when I tried to explain.
I had a documented history of psychosis. "
She let out a bitter laugh. "Attempted murder. That's what they charged me with. I was sixteen, terrified, and suddenly I was facing years in prison for defending myself against that bastard trying to rape me."
Saul's thumb stroked the back of her hand, a soothing gesture, but she could sense the barely leashed fury within him. Despite laying herself bare, it didn’t scare her.
"What happened then?" he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion, but she couldn’t think about that now, or it would break her.
Sadie took a deep breath. "The public defender was actually great. For the very first time, someone listened to me… didn’t hurt that by then I had all kinds of scars as well as significant bruising from my previous beating the day before.
She tore the police a new one. Threatened them with all kinds of complaints because I was a minor and they hadn’t followed protocol, just because my stepfather was a handsome charmer and had paid for some fancy lawyer.
Why is it that people never want to believe anything bad about pretty people? ” she mused, almost to herself.
Sadie shook her head, her eyes hardening as she continued.
"I spent four months in juvie until the charges were eventually dropped, and sometimes I wasn’t sure whether being there was better or worse than living with Ned.
It was brutal, and I arrived with a rep, so it felt like everyone was trying to get a piece of me.
See how tough I was. See how crazy I was.
See if I was the bad-ass bitch they expected me to be.
If I’d been that person, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad.
” She laughed humorlessly. “Instead, all I got was more abuse from other inmates trying to prove they had bigger balls than me.”
“Wasn’t there any kind of protection?” Saul asked, sounding mildly horrified. She guessed he’d lived a charmed life. Well, childhood, anyway. Even with the job he did today, all this was foreign to him.
Sadie couldn’t help but laugh at his naivety.
“Juvenile detention is tough, Saul. Their mindset is more like one of ‘beat it out of you while you're still young.’ Their idea of protection is solitary confinement, and honestly, sometimes that was preferable. And as for a few of the male guards. Well, let’s just say some of them were no better than Ned.”
“But… surely there are rules?” Saul asked, aghast.
Sadie shrugged. “Of course there are rules. The rules stated none of us should be in the company of a male guard without supervision. Doesn’t mean it happened like that. As far as these people were concerned, we were scum. Kids who got into the system early and who had no chance of redemption.”
“That’s not right,” Saul murmured, his voice hoarse.
“Right or wrong, it is what it is. By the time I was released, the damage was done.
My mother told me not to come home; said she couldn't live with someone who'd tried to kill her husband. The authorities tried to get me placed with my grandmother, but she didn’t want to know. Said I was too much trouble.”
Yet another betrayal. Yet another person who should have loved and protected Sadie but instead had let her down.
“I was on my own, with nothing but the clothes on my back and the nightmares that followed me everywhere. I was put into a group home, and let me tell you, they’re really not much different from juvenile detention, but at least I managed to finish school. Then at eighteen, I was on my own."
Saul's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb still moving in soothing circles. "You survived," he said softly, his voice filled with admiration and a hint of protective anger. "You came out the other side, despite the odds stacked against you. You're incredibly strong, Sadie."
She gave a small, bitter smile. "I had to be. And honestly, I was lucky. After I was released from juvie, the state defense attorney managed to get me into therapy again. I didn’t want to go after what happened the first time around, but without Ned and Marcie directing the narrative, it was a different experience.
It’s actually what pushed me to get my psychology degree. "
Sadie paused, her gaze distant, as if reliving those difficult years. "So, despite everything, I made it. I got a scholarship and worked my way through college. Built a life for myself, piece by piece."
She turned to look at Saul, her eyes searching his face for any sign of judgment or disgust. Instead, she found only compassion and a fierce protectiveness that made her breath catch.
“And your stepfather? Please don’t tell me he got away scot-free.”
Sadie’s expressions hardened. “He didn’t,” she told him, feeling the same satisfaction as she had the day he was convicted.
“With the help of the same public defender, I made a statement, and charges were brought against him. Turned out I wasn’t his only victim, and some had it even worse than me.
He served twelve years of a twenty-year sentence. ”
“Served?” Saul asked, tipping his head to the side, his intense gaze seeing far too much.
Sadie sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. He was released a little while back.”