Doctor? Jesus, what is going on?“What happened? Where's Cody?”
“He’s at the police station, darlin’.” A differentvoice—an older male—came from the other side of the bed.
“Everything hurts.” I swallowed hard; my mouth dry. After taking inventory of which areas of my body throbbed, I continued. “My head, face, neck, arm, ribs, stomach …”
“What do you remember, sweetie?” The nurse held my hand that wasn’t in a cast.
“I fell down the stairs and must have been knocked out. When I woke up, I had horrible, excruciating pain in my stomach.” My eyes flew open; I gasped. “The baby?”
The nurse shook her head and pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Tears streaked down my cheek to my jaw. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I guess it’s probably better this way.”
All I could think of was how I had made the biggest mistake of my life. Sure, there were warning signs and red flags. At first, I thought Cody’s discipline had just been normal husbandly acts of “keeping me in line.” But I never thought a few slaps here and there would turn into … this.
I wonder if he would have kicked me in the stomach if he knew I carried his child. I didn’t tell him on purpose because I was afraid he would take the baby from me. In the end, that’s exactly what he did anyway.
I had gained some weight but was still too early to show any physical signs. He couldn’t have guessed, could he? Did he know? Did he do this on purpose?
After spending the night in the hospital, I was honestly scared; I knew he wasn’t fucking around. My dumb ass didn’t press charges.
Chapter 25
Jake, age twenty-three—June 2008
ANDREW ANDChad convinced me how using drugs and alcohol only masked the pain of my traumatic past. Self-medicating was not a practical way to resolve internal conflict—Chad’s words, not mine. By removing fictitious cures, the truth would shine through.
With a clear mind, I would be able to find my way, to pave my way to an honest, respectable future. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I already understood what they said to be true; it was as if their words had been spoken in my voice for years.
I remember the last drink I had. It was the night before Andrew prayed for us. For me. He stood before me, offered his love, and read verses from his personal bible. It was a beautiful moment; I would never admit to the other guys in camp how it had changed me. Something clicked. I decided right then and there to get clean and make something of myself.
Before they left, Andrew handed me a bible, held my gaze, and said, “Have faith in yourself. I do.” He had bookmarked some verses for me to refer to when I had doubts. The first one I had heard somewhere before but couldn’t place where.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.”—Psalm 23:1-3
Could believing in the lord truly refresh my soul? Would he guide me down the right path if I gave myself to him?I sure hoped so. It sounded like a better plan than what I had been doing.
In addition to introducing me to the big guy, Andrew shared a tried-and-true way to get over things I have done in my past. Follow the four Rs of forgiveness: take Responsibility, show true Remorse, don’t Repeat, and Repair damage I’d caused.
I’ve taken responsibility for my actions. I hate what I’ve done, but I can’t change it. I’ve paid my dues, spent time in a juvenile detention center, and got beat down. I wanted to find a way to overpower others in the end.
I had remorse that I wasn’t able to change how I reacted when Dad got mad; I would have protected mymom. I would have saved her. That was then, this is now.
Then came the hard part: don’t repeat.Was that even possible? Could I foresee the future? The situation may or may not present itself again. What would I do if someone threatened my life? Would I take theirs in return? Yes. I would.
How could I know what my future looked like, though, unless I planned out every detail? Even then it was totally possible I may find myself in harm’s way. But I shouldn’t depend on it; I shouldn’t plan for the worst. I needed to live my life one day at a time and make the safest space I could with the tools made available to me.
How could I repair what I had done? For my family, I couldn’t. But to my own heart, I could. Doing things to help others was one way to heal my soul. In the past, it made me feel like I had a purpose when I made someone smile. Even helping someone carry groceries to their car or holding a door proved that I was worthy of life.
On the first day of my new life, I made a commitment to myself to do something that makes a difference for other people. Without any idea of what that entailed, I counted my money and planned my escape from Dallas.
My flight down here cost three hundred fiftydollars; I only had three hundred; when I saved another hundred, I would take a bus to the airport and go home. I said a silent prayer asking for God to help me make a quick hundred so I could get on with my life.
Ready to start my plan, I opened the bible to the book of John, and something fell to the ground. A face in the middle of a two-and-a-half by six-inch piece of paper—green on a white background—stared up at me from between my feet.Holy shit. A one-hundred-dollar bill had been stuffed inside the bible. The verse behind it:
“Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'”—John 14:6
For the first time in ten years, I believed. I believed in a higher power, and I believed in myself. My prayers had been answered.
