Rise Read online

  “Well, I don’t feel as bad as I look. One day at a time ya know? If it weren’t for you though Sara…” I pause and take a breath so that I don’t start the waterworks again. “I am sure I would have died. Who knows? I may have suffered there for days.” The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

  “I knew something was wrong Nettie. As soon as I realized you weren’t coming to the shoot…. I mean you are never late. I tried calling your cell and when you didn’t answer, I went straight over. I thought maybe you were just sick or something. I never expected….” she pauses stifling tears. “I never imagined that is what I would find when I got to your house. It was the worst sight of my life.” She is trembling and I find myself reaching over to comfort her.

  “It’s ok, I’m ok. Because of you and I will never forget that. I will be forever grateful, Sara.”

  “I am just glad that you are okay.” She looks as though she wants to say more but she doesn’t go on.

  “Alright well, enough depressing talk. How is work?” Finally, she seems to relax, and we talk for a while about how things have been at the office. She will be picking up the slack from my absence. I appreciate that. I don’t think I’ll be ready to go back for a long while. She tells me how excited she is that her favorite artist is coming to town to speak at a gallery opening and she’ll get to be the photographer on the story. “How exciting!” I squeal.

  “It’s still four weeks away maybe you’ll be ready to get back to work?”

  “Maybe.” I nod at her trying to convey enthusiasm.

  Sara and I talk for about another hour before she has to get going. We share pleasantries once more and she leaves. As she pulls out of the driveway, we exchange a wave before I retreat into the house. I am so exhausted. I decide to lie down on the couch for a quick cat nap. Ahhhh this feels nice. It is so quiet, and I have the rest of the afternoon all to myself. I get comfortable on our old couch and drift off.

  The next week goes by quickly. I am in a haze of doctors’ appointments, interviews from the police detectives and time with my friends. I am beginning to feel a little better, physically. My arm is still going to take some time to heal but I am used to the unattractive brace. My face is beginning to take shape again, but the bruising is still prominent. The only thing I am most concerned about is the slicing and dicing that Sam subjected me to. That is still sore and a constant reminder of the incident. My mom has been hovering over me like crazy. Constantly asking me if I need anything. Peeking in my room at every turn. I know that she thinks I’m going to break. Well, I may have a breakdown but breathing down my neck is not going to prevent that from happening. It is so strange, sometimes I need that comfort and motherly affection but others I don’t even want anyone to be in the same room with me, let alone speak. I am an emotional nut case right now.

  I have found a counselor that deals specifically with post-traumatic stress at the suggestion of my parents. I realize it’s something that I need right now. I believe that therapy can really help people. I don’t know if it will work for me, but it’s worth a shot. I am having nightmares on a nightly basis. So, if nothing else maybe she can help me to get my dreams back.

  The phone rings and startles me a bit. I answer before the third ring. “Yes?” “Miss Madison?” its Detective Montgomery.

  “Yes, Detective.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about some things we found in Mr. Knox’s apartment. I am not far can I stop by?”

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll see you soon.” I am so nervous all of a sudden. What could it be? They searched his apartment soon after his arrest so why am I finding this out now? I’ll get some answers soon. I decide to wait on the front porch for the great detective and she shows up not five minutes later. She jumps out of her black SUV quickly with an expression on her face that I have yet to see. Oh, this isn’t good.

  “Please sit, Miss Madison,” oh shit, not good at all.

  “What is it?” I cannot contain my lack of patience.

  “These,” She hands me a manila envelope and I open it pulling out the contents.

  “Oh-my-god.” My heart begins thumping in my ears, my breathing accelerates as I try and process what I am seeing.

  “I know this is disturbing,” she whispers. I am staring at myself, at least a hundred photos. Walking to work, with my family, in my home! My home! Some of these are from the winter. From months ago. He was following me?

  Chapter 6

  Peeping Sam

  I am stunned and it takes me a moment to gather my wits. “How long has he been stalking me?” The detective shakes her head.

  “We can’t tell that for sure, but we looked through some of these and would assume at least four months or so.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Yeah wow. These are copies, you can keep them. I want you to go through each and every one carefully and let me know if there is anything unusual or anything at all that may stand out to you. Okay?” I don’t understand.

  “Wait, why? He is in jail now; it doesn’t matter when or where or even why he took these photos.” She pauses for a moment and then explains.

  “No, see we don’t believe that Sam was the only one who took photos of you. We think he hired a private investigator to follow you. Some of the pictures are really high-tech stuff, as you can see. Some were taken with night vision and others with a spy cam.” Oh, so now they want to find out about this investigator. If he was hired to do this how much trouble could he really get into. Some of these pictures are pretty intimate. Many right in my house, so that would be illegal right? Imagining Sam and another pervert watching me. This just keeps getting better.

  “So, what do we do now?” I huff.

  “Well, you just need to look through the photos and tell me if you notice anything unusual or remember seeing anyone out of place at the times these pictures were taken. I will start to question any PI’s in a twenty-mile radius and find out what prick would agree to do a job like this!” Oh my, I am surprised by the take no bullshit attitude. She must be really disgusted by this creep. “Sorry, it just infuriates me what people will do for a buck.” She sighs stuffing her hands in her pants pockets.

  “It’s fine detective, really. And thank you.”

  “Oh, and Miss Madison you can call me Leigh. Leigh Ann Montgomery. I think we know each other well enough to use first names,” she holds out her hand to shake mine as if this is our first meeting. It seems a bit odd, but I oblige.

  “Sure, Leigh.” I repeat her name back. “and please call me Nettie.”

  “Very well Nettie, I will be on my way. I will keep you up to date as to what we find. Oh, and we hope to have that bastard on trial at the end of the month.” She smirks and almost skips back to the car.

  I head into the house and sit at the kitchen table with my coffee mug in hand. I take a stack of pictures and spread them across the table. Wow, there are a lot. Some are just me walking with my coffee and camera bag to work. Others at home, on my porch sipping wine, talking on the phone. But one group of pictures disturb me the most. They are all taken through my bathroom window. Some are far away but some are up close. Me looking in the mirror putting make-up on. One I am brushing my teeth with a towel wrapped around my body. And another I am in my bra and panties blow drying my hair. None, however, are with me completely nude. “Thank God!” It’s some reprieve to know he didn’t have naked pictures of me that he could ogle in the privacy of his home. Oh, gross! A wave of disgust runs through my body. I shuffle the pictures back into the envelope. I can’t look at these anymore today.

  I call my mother quickly to let her know what is going on and then decide to finally unpack the rest of the things my dad has brought from my place. I wonder what it looked like, the blood and all. He never mentioned in detail anything he saw in that house. At least to me he never mentioned anything. Maybe he did to my mother. As I go through the bags I try and organize my clothes as best as I can, hanging some things in the closet and placing some in drawers. I check m
y camera bag and make sure everything is there and it is nothing seems to be missing or broken. The last thing I see is my cell phone. I remember not being able to find it that awful morning. I wonder where it was. I place it on the charger and once it's powered up I slide the lock off and flip through some missed calls from my friend, Matthew one from Jessie and another from Sara just an hour before she found me.

  I check my email and see something that chills my blood. A message, that is sent from SMknox and time-stamped for four a.m. the day I was attacked. I click on the message with hesitation. I see that there is an attachment. When I open it, I am horrified at what I am looking at. It is a picture of me, after. I am lying unconscious bloody and beaten. My clothes are torn off and I look like something from a gory horror flick. I am unrecognizable to even myself. It looks like a crime scene photo. I guess I was wrong. He does have a naked photo of me. Sick mother fucker! Why? Why does he continue to shock me? I mean when the cops picked him up, he had acted like he had done nothing wrong. He admitted everything, happily. He said I had given him signals all night that I wanted to sleep with him, so he gave me “what I wanted” The brutality of it was blown off. He acted as if it was a completely normal and natural act. I don’t know what he is trying to pull. Maybe he is going to try and plead insanity? I don’t even know if that is a real thing or they just do that in the movies. In any case, he is crazy.

  I need to call Detective Montgomery and let her know what I found. I fish her card out of my bedside table and call her immediately. She doesn’t answer so I leave her a short message making her aware of the email and photo. I don’t know that it will make any difference in the case at all, but she needs to know.

  The rest of the day goes fast. I keep busy doing my best to pick up after myself and make a nice dinner for my mother and father. They deserve it. They have been so good to me lately. I wonder when I will feel well enough to live on my own again. Maybe never. My cell buzzes and it scares the shit out of me. I pick it up but don’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Nettie it’s Detective Montgomery, er Leigh.”

  “Oh, hi Leigh. Did you get my message?”

  “Yes, I did and I am sorry you had to see that. We couldn’t find your cell phone when we searched his apartment. We did, however, see the photo on his email. I just didn’t mention it because I didn’t want you to see it. I mean it wasn’t necessary for you to see yourself in that… that state.” I don’t know how to respond.

  “Well looks like that was a lot of work for nothing, huh?” she apologizes.

  “No, no it’s not your fault. I’ll add it to my nightmare reel for this evening.” I wish she would have told me sooner.

  “Well Nettie, I will let you get back to your day. I am here if you need anything. And remember please look through those photos if it’s not too difficult. You think of anything you call me any time, day or night do you understand?” There is that authority back in her voice. I knew she hadn’t been far.

  “Of course detective, I will. No word on the private investigator?” I hear her sigh

  “No, nothing yet but we’ll get him. I promise.”

  When my parents arrive home, I fill them in on today’s events, but explain to them I don’t want to dwell on it. They oblige as we sit and have a delicious meal if I don’t say so myself. They seem to enjoy it as well. This is the first night that things have felt somewhat normal. We talk and laugh enjoying one another’s company. I think I can get through this. I really do. A shimmer of hope shines in my mind’s eye.

  Chapter 7

  On the Mend

  “Antoinette Madison?” A woman in purple scrubs dotted with small pink hearts says coolly. She has burnt red hair that reminds me of Ronald McDonald.

  “Yes,” I raise my hand shyly. “Nettie, please. Call me Nettie” I don’t know why I am so annoyed today.

  “Come on hun, you can follow me now.” This is obviously not my first time at the OB/GYN, but it is the most anxiety I have had being here. I am escorted into a tiny room with white walls and white cheaply tiled floors. This room that I have come to be familiar with still feels like I am in a mental institution. They could have warmed this place up a bit. I mean most people who come here are happy right? Having babies, excited to be here. My thoughts are interrupted by Mrs. McDonald. What is her name again? Oh well, who cares? I won’t have to speak to her much longer, there is no point in learning it now.

  “You can undress and put on this gown. The doctor will see you shortly.” I have never felt comfortable here. I don’t like to be examined, well who does? Especially since that night, it feels as I am being violated all over again with each visit. Just when I start feeling like myself, I am knocked down a peg. As I wait the anxiousness builds. I can feel the small pricks down my arms and in my chest. I quickly undress and put the paper gown on myself as fast as possible before hopping up on the paper-covered table.

  “Ah,” that’s cold. Man, I wish I peed first. Next to the examination table is a stack of cheesy tabloid magazine so I pick one up at random and flip through to get my mind off of the poking and prodding to come. I am only about halfway through the drama of the latest “reality” show scandal when there is a brief knock on the door.

  “Ready?” Dr. Graham says as the doors swing open. Well, you didn’t wait for an answer, did you? I guess I am. “So, Nettie, how are you?” Dr. Graham is beautiful. She has dark curly hair that just brushes her shoulders and has very dark eyes to match. If I had to guess I would say she was close to forty. Young, she looks young. She really is sweet too, or at least seems to be. I like her. She makes me feel, well comfortable. As much as I can be in this situation.

  “I am fine, thanks.” She looks at me skeptically knowing I am lying through my teeth. I am terribly uncomfortable can’t we just get this over with?

  She gestures to the stirrups on either side of the table and I know what to do. She is finally clearing me since “the incident”. The last thing I want is my legs spread open… again. Yes, the incident, will it ever get better? It’s only been 8 weeks; I don’t expect it to soon. It was the worst night of my life. I hope to never feel that way again. So helpless, so weak, so…. God damn him for making me feel this way! I was strong, confident, and driven! He may not have killed me, but he certainly took a piece of me. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Although, he is now my worst enemy so maybe I would.

  “This will be cold, Nettie.” Dr. Graham brings me back to earth. She does her “normal” exam, checking that the stitches have healed and doing yet another swab to test for STD’s. I am used to the routine after being here for what, 3 times? Well, I know what will happen next, urine and blood to test for H.I.V and to be sure I am not pregnant. I have had my period since so thankfully, the latter isn’t true. Dr. Graham makes it quick as usual and I am done before I can enter into a full-blown panic. “Good girl!” she says “You know the rest. Go on and get dressed and we’ll do your labs, and you can be on your way.” As I scoot up to the end of the table pulling the uncomfortable, scratchy white paper with me, I nod in recognition.

  Before leaving the room, she looks at me with that look. The look I have been getting for weeks now. The ‘you poor girl’ look. The pity look. I HATE the pity look. “Everything looks good Nettie, but I want you to abstain from intercourse at least another month. Then you can resume normal activity, er um. Sorry. I...I mean you can physically. I mean, you know, you can if you want. Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to …” she almost looks as if she is going to cry. I interrupt her.

  “I am fine. Thank you, Dr. Graham. I understand what you meant.” My voice is icy, and she gets the point. She pats me on the back and with a polite nod, she quickly exits the room. God, what is with her? She is normally so together. Maybe it’s because it is our last visit. I take a deep breath and for the first time in a while, I sigh. I never have to step foot in here again. I have given my samples and I am free to go.

  “We’ll call if there is anything to call about, A
ntoinette,” the same fiery-haired, obnoxious nurse squeaks at me.

  “Nettie,” I say through gritted teeth. You would think my full name would be harder to remember. Get me out of this place. I have had enough stress for one morning.

  Luckily, I don’t have anywhere to be for the rest of the day, so I am meeting my mother for lunch, not far from here. It’s an old dive restaurant we have gone to since I was a child. We certainly don’t go for the food, it’s mediocre at best. We really go for the nostalgia of it now. As I pull into the greasy spoon called Mona’s, I notice in the tiny dirt parking lot, that my mother’s car is nowhere to be seen. I am a bit early but let’s face it she is always late. I park at the right of the building and shut off the engine. It is a little busy for a Tuesday afternoon, but we never have to wait. I climb from my red four-door Honda and hear the beep, beep as I lock the doors.

  When I enter the building, I notice Jen immediately. She is a waitress who has been here for as long as I can remember. She has salt and pepper beehive and is the epitome of the fifties waitress. Too much blush pushed across her swelled cheeks and baby blue eye shadow up to her pencil-thin eyebrows. A tiny beauty mark kisses her right upper lip. I have always wondered if this is real or if she has drawn it on like the rest of her face. She is a doll though, always has a smile on her face. Speaking of smile, she spots me and squeals as she makes her way through the small square tables in the middle of the restaurant.

  “Nettie darlin’ how are you?! Oh, it’s been a while!” she stops for a moment and lowers her voice. “I haven’t seen you since… um, well. How are you dear?” There it is again that look. I HATE that look.

  “I am doing well Jen thank you for asking,” I say with a fake smile planted on my face.

  “Really darling? Because you can talk to me anytime.” Most people in this town don’t really want to help they just want to gossip. I don’t think Jen would be a gossip in this case but still, I remain tight-lipped.