Page 7 of Taint
Hours pass as Cady comes and goes, checking on me and speaking to the medical staff. She’s ready to get out of here. I don’t blame her; I’m ready to get out of here. Home is where I’d rather be. My solitary confinement cell. Being locked behind that door as I heal is what I know. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again. Only this time, who knows how many people will be knocking on my door to check on me. I love my friends, but I need some time alone. I need to face the horrors that took place, and I can’t do that with them there. I wonder if they’ll understand.
I avoid the mirror as Cady helps me dress. I’ll have plenty of time to see what he did when I get home. Instead, I watch Cady, who tries not to focus on any part of my body as she slides my clothes on. Her eyes are glazed over, staring off into space as if she’s replacing my body with something else. She’s trying to be strong, so I don’t worry about her, but she should know better than that. Knowing that those I care about are breaking inside because of me makes the situation even more unbearable. This will pass. The scratches and bruises will fade, the stitches will heal, but this has changed us. The people we were, are gone. With only pieces of the whole remaining, I don’t like the odds of what we will become.
Bobby and Erick meet us in the waiting area as Cady pushes me through the doors in a wheelchair. I clutch the paperwork from the doctor in my hands as we quietly make our way down to the emergency room exit. Bobby places his ball cap on my lap. I gaze at the football symbol before sliding it on my head and pulling the brim down to help cover my face from bystanders.
As we near the final set of doors, Cady scoots us over to the side. The doors glide open, and EMTS rush through pushing a stretcher. One paramedic sits astride the bed working on the patient, squeezing a clear plastic ball in his hands to push air into their lungs as a frantic man is drug along, clinging to the railing.
“You have to wait here, Son.” A paramedic grabs the man by the shoulders and holds him back.
“Where are you taking her?”
His sobs should tear at my heart, but I feel nothing. He knew it would come to this. He had been warned. I push the bill of the cap up and watch as they hastily shove Mariah through the swinging ER doors. Jimmy drops to his knees, crying as the paramedic clutches his arms and calls for someone to help him.
***
The windows of my apartment seem to stare back at me as I gaze upon it. Police tape hangs limply from the door frame where it had been torn down, dancing ever so slightly in the breeze. Cady is on the phone with thepolice department, making sure it is okay to enter. She had tried to talk me into staying with her, but I just wanted to come home. The only way she would agree to that was if they stayed with me. Erick and Bobby remained silent during negotiations. A collective sigh of relief filled the car when I agreed to it. I didn’t have any other choice. Cady refused to leave me alone.
“We can go in,” Cady says as she puts the phone in her purse. She hesitates before turning to me. “They haven’t found Phil, yet, so they are sending an officer over to keep watch.”
“That’s bullshit,” Bobby spouts from the backseat. “They probably know exactly where that bastard is.”
“Bobby,” Cady hisses through her teeth.
“Sorry,” Bobby mumbles. He grips the handle and pushes the car door open.
I follow suit, climbing out slowly even though Cady is urging me to wait for help. With heavy, aching steps, I move toward my apartment. Bobby comes up beside me and lends me his arm. I place my hand on his forearm for support as I step up on my porch. I feel for my keys, forgetting I don’t have them. Cady moves around me and puts my key into the door and unlocks it. She opens it and tells me to wait as her and Erick go inside and look around.
Bobby gives me a tight-lipped smile as I take his hat off and hand it back to him. “Thank you.”
He grips the hat and shuffles on his feet as if he wants to say something. Turning around, he faces thestreet and tucks his hat bill into his back pocket. “I know you don’t want us here, Hazel, but we just want to keep you safe. I’m sorry we didn’t do it sooner.”
“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.” I sigh as I listen to Cady and Erick moving about in my apartment. “I just need some time.”
I face the street when I hear a car come to a stop in front of my building. The police cruiser’s headlights shut off and the officer inside waves. He got here fast. I lift my hand in acknowledgment, and then turn to Bobby.
“Do something for me,” I whisper to Bobby, knowing what I’m about to ask is probably going to confuse the shit out of him.
“Anything,” he replies, as he searches my face.
“Keep Cady out of my bedroom tonight.”
Bobby bites his lip and nods as his shoulders droop. Not waiting any longer, I walk inside. He follows me and shuts the door, locking it behind us. I pass the kitchen and stop in the bathroom doorway. It’s been cleaned up. I wonder if that’s what Cady is doing, trying to erase any sign of Phil from the apartment. Stepping inside, I lock the bathroom door and take a deep breath.
I turn the shower on to warm up, and, as gently as I can, remove my clothing. I step beneath the spray and suck air between my teeth as the water pounds against my aching body, setting it on fire. The pain meds they pumped in my IV are wearing off. Eyes closed, I tilt my head back until the pain numbs under thepressure of the shower head. I wish it hadn’t. Grabbing the soap, I squirt it on my hand and rub my body down as I focus on the shower wall. I’ll see it all soon enough.
Just go through the motions, Hazel.
I pull my robe from the hook on the wall and put it on. Slipping quietly out of the bathroom, I tiptoe to my bedroom and shut the splintered door the best I can. I take in my bed, now made with clean sheets and a throw blanket. A barrage of images attacks me as I inch toward it, and I battle with myself not to run away. I slink down on the edge of the bed and fist the edges of the robe in my hands.
You can do this. You’ve done it before.
My chin lifts, and I take a deep breath before opening my eyes. A stranger stares back at me from the mirror on my closet door. No, not a stranger. The girl that has taken up residence inside me since she appeared the first time. She clutches her robe together at her neck and by her knees as if she fears anyone seeing what lies beneath. The flawless skin of her hand next to her battered face seems out of place, as if it shouldn’t be attached to the bruised wrist peeking out from her sleeve.
I move to the mirror, watching her watch me. Our hands reach out, and, as if guiding me, my fingers run along her swollen nose and purple cheekbone. Her face scrunches in pain and I hesitate, jerking my hand back. Inch by atrocious inch, she exposes the lynch marks around her neck. The hand prints, bite marks, and bruises on her breasts appear next. The ever-present claw marks on her stomach are no longerpink, but an angry red again, with welts crisscrossing them. Her thighs have bruises from fingertips digging into her flesh. She drops the robe and glances at me over her shoulder. The ghastly sight of the beating she took with the belt is more prominent along the backs of her arms and bottom than the skin on her back. Scratches run the length of her back to the tops of her thighs, making the same design that brands her stomach.
My eyes burn as the marks blur, blending into one solid blemish. I drift to the floor unable to hold myself up any longer. My arms snake around my shins as I bury my face in the crevice of my knees. Tears flow, cascading down my multicolored face and dripping onto my bruised thighs.
They say tears are supposed to heal. That allowing yourself to feel and cry mends you back together somehow. If only the tears could flush out the memories as they fall. If only they could erase the evidence that mars my skin. If only….
