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  “Yes, he is a…well was a friend of mine. His name is Sam Knox.” She looks at super cop and nods. He quickly scurries from the room. Just the detective and I now.

  “We will put an APB out on him immediately. I’ll send an officer to his residence as well as his place of employment.” She takes out a small recording device from her inside blazer pocket. “I know this is going to be difficult Miss Madison, but I have to get in detail what you remember from last night. Are you ready?” Am I ready to relive the most horrific moment of my life? No, I am not. I never will be. I really don’t have a choice

  “I’ll do my best.” I groan.

  I go into the enormous detail of how we know each other and the walk home from work that day. I continue, about the pass he made at me and the fact that it made me terribly uncomfortable. I don’t feel as terrible as I thought I would, sharing this information. It almost feels as though I am telling some fictional story. That this story isn’t in fact about me. When I get to the point where I fell asleep, I freeze. Detective Montgomery speaks first.

  “Listen, Miss Madison if this is too difficult, we can take a little break.” Her tone has changed. She is less professional and more sympathetic, trying to comfort me more than anything else.

  “No, I want to get this over and done as fast as possible.” She nods in acceptance. I take a huge intake of breath, close my eyes, and exhale. Here we go. “I was sleeping, as I said. I woke up when he slapped me, or punched me,” I correct myself. “As fast as my eyes were opened, I was pinned to the bed.” I can feel it all over me. The weight of his body on me, the smell of his cigarettes and the alcohol. I can feel his hands in my hair. “He was holding the sides of my head, by my hair.” I lift my good hand to my head to demonstrate. I pause for a beat.

  “Go on.” She whispers.

  “Um… well I tried to talk to him to maybe calm him, I don’t know. He started going on about how I had embarrassed him or led him on in some way. I tried apologizing to diffuse the situation. It didn’t work. As soon as I was sure he would rape me I struggled, and I screamed. God did I scream. That’s when he ripped my hair out of my head.” I take a small drink of my water in order to gather my wits. “After that is when I saw the knife. I didn’t know he had a knife. He said if I screamed again, he would slice me in two. He was grinning. Like he wanted me to scream again.” Ok now I feel like I need a break, but I don’t say anything. I press on. “Next thing I know he sliced my shirt open and that’s when he cut me the first time.”

  I run my hand gently over the bandage on my sternum. “He is sick, so sick.” This I must have said aloud without realizing because I see the detective nodding in agreement. “I guess I screamed again because before I knew what was happening, he had a pillow pressed over my face.” I take a sharp breath remembering the suffocation. Detective Montgomery speaks now.

  “How long do you think dear? Did you pass out? Do you think he was trying to kill you?” I wrap my arms around my body tightly.

  “No, as sick as it sounds, I think he just wanted to shut me up. I knew he wasn’t planning on killing me, at least not right then. I know he wanted me to be aware, to feel everything.” This is my undoing I can’t think about him anymore. Tears stream down my bruised cheeks. The detective rises and in trying to comfort me places her hand on my knee. I jump in response, but she doesn’t move her hand.

  “I think that’s enough for now. I will give you a break and we can continue later. I know how overwhelmed you must feel.”

  “Thank you,” I whimper.

  “No trouble at all. I will get in touch with you tomorrow. We have enough to go on for now. You rest now. Hopefully, we nail the bastard. I am going to post a man at your door until we find him okay?” What? Would he come here? I mean he let me live the first time so why would he come here now? I wonder to myself why he did let me live. He had to have known he can’t get away with this. I mean I know him for Christ’s sake.

  Before Detective Montgomery leaves, I ask her, “Why do you think he let me live?” She looks surprised by the question.

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe he thought you would be too afraid to talk?” she shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever the reason you should consider yourself lucky. We’ll get him, don’t worry” Lucky? Fuck you, lady! My life is ruined. What he did to me was worse than kill me. And damn well you better get him, or I’ll get the fucker myself.

  She senses my sudden coldness and excuses herself reaching forward to shake my hand. I extend my hand as well, with no enthusiasm at all. She thanks me and leaves me to myself. I am tired and in need of some rest. My parents make a brief return and I tell them to go home to sleep. I am exhausted and want so badly to escape this nightmare. Of course, before that can happen, I am given my medication and a rape kit is done by the sexual assault nurse examiner, Stacey, I think her name was. I didn’t listen much to anything she said. I was too out of it. I felt numb as she did a thorough exam and collected evidence. She assures me I am finished being poked and prodded for now and without a word I roll onto my “good” side and sleep. I sleep clear through to the following morning. If anyone entered my room, I was oblivious to it.

  The morning comes and I am officially released to go home in the care of my parents, and I am ready. The police have contacted me letting me know that they picked up Sam first thing this morning. He had the nerve to show up to work as if nothing had happened. Of course, his employer was aware of what he had done, and they called immediately to alert the police of his whereabouts. The police also informed me that they figured out how he had entered my home. When they searched him, they found my keys. He must have taken them before he left. This fact pisses me off more than anything. He knew when he was so pleasantly leaving my home that he would be back. He planned everything. Part of me had thought it was because he was so intoxicated but now, I know he had plans. Calculated plans. According to the police, he gave no reason to why he did it, but that part doesn’t matter. I really don’t care. He is fucked up! That’s all there is to it. Just plain fucked up crazy!

  It’s about 11:30 a.m. when my parent’s black escalade glides into the driveway. “Ah, we’re home.” My mother sighs and so do I.

  Chapter 4

  You Can go Home Again

  I am getting settled into my old room when I realize that nothing has been changed since I have moved out. Wow, this takes me back to high school in a flash. I gaze at the pictures on my bulletin board. Photos of my friends and me at a track meet, graduation and prom. Oh, prom was the best. I went with my high school sweetheart Matthew. It was great, we took a limo with my best friend Jessie and her date Colton. They are still together in fact. Matt and I didn’t last long after high school ended. I wanted to get serious and he wanted to well, sleep around. So, he did and when he decided he wanted more it was too late, I had moved on. He is a great guy though. We are still very close friends and I know he would do anything for me, and me for him.

  My room is also filled with flowers and cards with get well wishes. I wondered why nobody had visited me in the hospital, but my mother informed me it was at her request. She didn’t want me feeling overwhelmed with too much at once. I am glad for that fact because I don’t have the nerve to face anyone yet, I can’t even face myself.

  I’ve somehow managed to avoid seeing myself in the mirror up to this point. When I was getting ready to leave the hospital it almost happened, but I quickly covered my eyes. I had to use the bathroom on my own before I was able to be discharged. So, after the catheter was removed the nurse escorted me into the cold, too small bathroom. I got a glimpse of my mangled arm before covering my face with my good hand. I wasn’t ready. Perhaps I am now? No. I brush the thought aside. I need to eat. I haven’t had a real meal since before the attack, and this is the first time I have somewhat of an appetite.

  I finish unpacking the few clothes my father has brought from my place and make my way downstairs. I smell that my mother is cooking something. Soup maybe? Not exactly a summer dish
but I understand why. My stomach probably can’t handle much more than that right now. The smell of the food is mixed with the smell of a baked apple pie candle. My favorite. Every time I smell that scent it reminds me of this home. My parents have lived here for their entire twenty-five years of marriage. I am glad they didn’t decide to move into a smaller place after I moved out. I love it here. As I make my way into the kitchen my mother is stirring whatever concoction she is making as steam rises from the pot. “Mmm. Smells good.” My mother turns at my voice. She looks better today, rested. Her eyes still slightly puffy from the long last few days, but she looks more like herself now.

  “Homemade chicken noodle,” she replies. “I thought it would be a start. After you eat, maybe I can help you get into the shower.” She says this delicately as if she is going to offend me.

  “Mom it's fine I can manage.”

  “Ok, well if you change your mind, I would be happy to help. That’s why you’re here you know? So, Daddy and I can help in any way that we can.”

  “Speaking of Daddy, where is he?” I look quickly around and through the window, to see if maybe I missed him.

  “He actually went over to your house, to get some more of your things. So, if there is anything you need, call his cell.”

  “Oh” I tense a bit before finishing. “Well, I would like my camera gear, and my purse, wallet, and cell.”

  “Don’t worry he was going to get all that. He was getting a few more of your clothes and shoes as well.” I nod.

  “That’s perfect. Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without the two of you.”

  My mother sits a bowl of soup down in front of me and we both sit quietly. I really don’t know what to talk about. I carefully sip the broth. I don’t want too much. My stomach is in knots and I don’t want to throw up. My face still hurts terribly. I carefully sip on one side of my mouth as the other is still incredibly swollen. Every time I blink, I feel as though I am being stung by a swarm of bees. After eating about half, I cannot stomach another bite. I decide a shower sounds great. I can take my brace off only to quickly shower and that’s all. I excuse myself from the table and my mom clears our bowls.

  “Remember hun if you need me just yell, ok?”

  “Sure mom. I’ll be fine though. I really just need to rinse these past few days away.” She smiles purely out of pity.

  I gather a pair of clean underwear and a comfy bra. I choose a shirt and sweatpants. Picking an outfit is the least of my worries. When I enter my childhood bathroom, I prepare myself to look in the mirror for the first time. I have imagined based on what I have been told of my injuries what I am in for, but I don’t think anything can truly prepare me for what comes next. My back is to the mirror and I take a few cleansing breaths. I need to do this. I can do this, I tell myself. “On the count of three. One, two……. three!” I turn and am horrified at what I see. Immediately the chicken soup exits my body, thankfully I make it to the toilet. I am crying and vomiting at the same time. At this moment I am wishing I accepted my mother’s offer for help.

  I finally compose myself after what seems like an eternity and will my quivering legs to stand and face myself again. My hair is matted to my head around the area that has recently been balded. The remainder of my dirty blonde hair is stained a pale shade of red. My eyes are incredibly swollen and bruised. My cheek is three times its normal size and looks as though I have a golf ball stuffed under my skin. Wow! My shiner is worse than I expected it to be. I look like Rocky. I close my eyes because I don’t want to see myself anymore. I slowly strip down and examine my body. This I have seen already in the hospital. I have a lot of bruising and two small bandages covering the lacerations on my chest. I gently peel back the tape to expose my fresh wounds. I turn on the shower and after the water has heated to my liking, I carefully remove the splint from my forearm with a wince as the pain is still fresh.

  Ahhh the water feels so amazing over my body. It is difficult to wash my crusted, blood-stained hair, but I manage. Washing my body, I am careful of the stitches over my heart. I trace each wound gently with my finger. Perfectly straight lines up and down, precisely the same size. They remind me of tally marks. Why did he do this? I still don’t get it. Did he just want to mutilate me more than he had? Make sure that even though I lived, I would think of him every time I looked in the mirror. I hope they fade.

  The hardest part is the pain between my legs. It is so incredibly sensitive that just the water running over the area is difficult. I finish washing my body to the best of my abilities. It’s good enough. I awkwardly step out of the shower and immediately dry my arm and hand, gently placing my brace back on. I continue to dry the rest of my body and dress in my most comfortable clothes.

  When I head back downstairs my mother is on the phone. She smiles and holds up her finger informing me she will just be a moment. I walk onto the back deck of my parent’s house and sit on the gliding love seat. It has a blue and white striped cushion that goes with the nautical décor outside. Their back yard is beautiful. There are flowers everywhere. My mother certainly has a green thumb. Unlike me, I kill everything I touch. Floating high above the green grass is my childhood treehouse. Surprisingly it still looks pretty good considering its age. It didn’t really get that much use I suppose. I am an only child, so I rarely played in there unless I had a friend over. On my left at the far end of the fourteen-foot-wide deck is a hot tub that sits down into the deck. This my parents installed after my departure which I am jealous about. It would have made some of those high school parties a little more interesting. I look around and breathe in the warm summer air. I feel so comfortable here, so safe and secure.

  Behind me, I hear the sliding glass door and my mother slowly sinks into the spot next to me. She very gently places her hand on my knee. “How was your shower dear?” I can feel her gaze on me.

  “It was fine. I was a bit shocked to see my face. I didn’t realize how terrible I looked. I can’t believe you and Dad have been looking at me like this.” She shrugs.

  “It really isn’t that bad.” Wow is she a liar! I don’t call her on it, I just let it go. “Your dad is back. He put all of your things in your room. He said he was given a hard time because the police were still gathering more evidence.”

  “Why do they need any more evidence? They did the rape kit. Shouldn’t that be enough? Not to mention that I was able to identify him. It’s ridiculous. Should be open and shut.” She enthusiastically nods in agreement.

  Daddy joins us only a few minutes later. My mother makes me a chamomile tea to wind down for the evening and I use it to wash down my pain meds. For now, my stomach is finally feeling settled. I am tempted to ask my father what the house looked like, but I really don’t want to know. I will never step foot in there again. I already want to get all my things out and put it on the market. I mean how could I ever go in there again let alone sleep there. No way! I will sell it, start over. I have to.

  We sit and make small talk for a while before I excuse myself to my room for the evening. I am exhausted. Before bed, I make it a point to speak to a few of my friends on the phone. Jessie and I talk for quite a while. She can always lighten my mood. She has the most infectious laugh I have ever heard, she sounds like a machine gun that won’t stop firing. After we speak it is about eight-thirty p.m. and I am completely wiped. I climb into bed and wrap myself into a cocoon of blankets and breathe deep the smell of fresh fabric. I have trouble settling my thoughts but eventually, exhaustion wins.

  I don’t know how long I am asleep before a horrific nightmare wakes me. I am back in that house in my bed and I am being broken all over again. I am thrashing when I wake, and my entire body is pained all over again. Slowly coming back from a hellish sleep, I calm down, I breathe. Wow, that was so real. I feel as though I can still feel him holding me. I lie back on my bed, sans pillows and try my best to sleep again.

  Chapter

  My Savior

  The next morning Sara calls and I invite
her over for coffee. She has called me, but I haven’t seen her since she found me lying helpless on my bedroom floor. She should be here any minute. I should put on some coffee. I feel terrible thinking of the way she must feel after such an ordeal. The police questioned her as well and from what I was told she was extremely distraught. She saved my life. I don’t know what would have happened, had she not shown up. She is an angel in my eyes. I owe her everything.

  I place two mugs on the table and a fresh carafe of coffee, ready for her arrival. My mom has left a plate of fresh cookies out for us as well. I find myself pacing anxiously waiting for Sara. I can’t wait to see her but part of me is so nervous at the same time. I am not sure what to even say. The doorbell interrupts my subconscious rant. I rush to the door, overwhelmed and excited to see Sara. I open the door and she looks as if she is on the brink of tears already. Before she can open her mouth to say hello, I throw my arms around her in an all-out embrace. I immediately let the tears fly, as does she. We are sobbing together as one. Sharing an unspeakable bond. We hold our places until the tears subside on both our parts. I slowly break from her arms and take a moment to notice her beauty. She has a pale pink camisole tank on with lace along the neckline and she is wearing fitted denim capris and flip flops. Her long, shiny black hair cascades in soft waves down her back. She has the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen. She is stunning. She should be in front of the camera, not behind it.

  “Oh, Sara come in, come in.” She enters the house with some hesitation. I understand her discomfort. She was the only one who saw me at my very worst. “Sara I am sorry we are just getting to see one another. I have so much I want to say to you. Please come and sit I made coffee and there are snacks if you want.”

  “Coffee sounds great Nettie, thank you so much. You look well. Better I mean,” she sounds surprised.