I wasted no time and filled her in on the basics as quick as I could, not wanting to linger on my own nightmares. I started with my recent experiences, and the horrible way I had been feeling and just what I had been left with during my capture. Once that had made my eyes burn with tears too, I moved into the past, offering her the shorter version of the night my mama died.
“Those men scarred me. With knives and cigarettes.” I twisted in the chair, showing her my back and the handful of scars that littered it. “It is not as bad as you experienced. They mostly enjoyed other things that left no scars other than mental.”
She froze, the bottle loose in her hand. “Like what?”
I weighed my words up carefully, trying to toe the line between making her feel supported and not alone, and not triggering her into a further meltdown that she was already heading towards.
“Like the kind of things I think that piece of shit did to you. The kind of thing nobody in this universe deserves to happen to them.”
Tears slipped out of her eyes, running down her cheeks. “How do you know what happened to me?”
“Because I can see it in your eyes,mami. I know that look all too well because it’s what I saw in my own eyes for years. And I also know what kind of manheis, and it was the first thing I thought he would do to you when I heard you were taken.”
“Did they… did those men…” She swallowed another few mouthfuls, hands shaking enough I could barely make out thechipped rainbow nails she’d been neglecting for weeks. “Did they touch you? Or worse?”
“Touch me. I was too little for much else. But I have no doubt if I hadn’t been just a scrawny little girl, they would have done worse than use their hands.” I reached for her vodka bottle, taking a glug before returning it.
Speaking of my trauma made my skin crawl. It made me feel dirty and wrong and more damaged than I would have ever liked to admit. But I wasn’t damaged. I wasn’t dirty. I was just me and no other fucker in this world would ever make me hate myself, or feel like being inside my own skin was wrong.
Henley deserved to feel the same.
She nodded slowly. “He made me… he um…”
Without a word I waited, patient and calm. I wouldn’t ever force her to say a word, but I wanted her to understand she could express her thoughts and feelings no matter how bad they were. I would offer her a safe space to speak freely without judgement or fear and whatever else she needed.
“He didn’t fuck me properly before I managed to hurt him so he couldn’t do it.” She whispered. “But he used his hands and stuff. He said… he was…” She ran a hand over her eyes, wiping away her tears. “He wanted me tobeghim for it – that was his goal. He said he was going to make me hurt so bad until I begged him to fuck me, and he could finally prove that I was just like every other whore in the world. Or whatever misogynistic bullshit his pea brain thought of.”
It was bad. But I had the slightest relief that at least she had got out before Rocky had got everything he wanted from her, and that she had managed to eventually defend herself enough that he would never get to do the extra evil things he wanted. Henley shouldn’t have had anyone lay hands on her that way, but I was trying to find the slightest of silver lining for her even if it was foolish.
“You never would have begged him.” I promised.
She pouted. “How do you know?”
“Because I know you, lucky H. You’re strong and you’re stubborn. You would have died before you ever gave him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.” I lowered my voice when I heard the patio doors open again. “You know what he did to those you loved, and you felt each bit of pain he gave you. I know you would have died before giving him what he wanted because you are a fighter, and fighters never quit.”
She might not have thought it now, but it was true. Henleywasstrong – shewasa fighter. She had run from safety to take on gunmen, just to save Darius and attempt to save her brother. I had seen the CCTV tapes of that day and saw how hard she fought to escape Rocky – how much she had given to save her loved ones, even if it never worked out. She had been braver than many grown adults would have been, and she had to be proud of that – she had to know that she did her best and that was all that mattered. Her best was all she ever had to give.
She blew out a breath, her voice quiet as she said, “It doesn’t matter how many times I shower. I can still feel him.”
“It goes away.” I promised. “One day the shower will work – it will make you feel clean again. But even if it doesn’t, you aren’t dirty. There is nothing wrong with you,mami. You are beautiful, strong, and I promise there is nothing wrong with you.”
The devastation in her eyes only made me want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and never let her out of my sight. But that wasn’t reasonable. She couldn’t shield herself away from the world for the rest of her life. She had to learn that things would one day be better – justice would eventually be served, and she would find a way to heal and turn to some semblance of normal.
“Hey; I thought you might want some of this.” Delilah came to a stop by our chair, a pizza box in her hands. “This is usually where I come when I can’t sleep and seeing as pizza and boozemakes me feel better, I figured I’d offer you the pizza to sop up that hangover you’ll have tomorrow.”
I hadn’t known she came outside to drink and think either, but it seemed to be a popular place and as Delilah put the box on the small table, and I grabbed a slice, I wondered if perhaps I should be finding ways to make the garden even nicer for those who needed to sit in it and think about the horrors they never should have experienced.
Surely it was better to breakdown in a field full of flowers than a concrete place?
“Come sit.” Henley offered Delilah the bottle as she took a slice of pizza. “How are you?”
Delilah grabbed the bottle as she took a seat on the spare lounger.
“I’m no longer reliving what it’s like to be on heroin and locked in a basement. Instead, I woke up screaming as I watched Tanner protect me from being hurt and get shot.” She said bluntly. “Totally ruined my vibes. I was all comfy before that, even if Tanner’s heart rate machines beeping all the time do my head in.”
One of the other bright sparks of our recent issues was that Tanner might wake up. The machines that had been keeping him breathing and okay, had been damaged and turned off during the attack, but to my utter shock Tanner hadn’t died. He’d kept breathing – kept fighting – and Raya’s doctors that had taken over helping had said he would wake up on his own someday soon. It might have been weeks still, but at least it was better than the alternative.
At least Widow’s bit of hope wasn’t for nothing, and he didn’t lose another person he loved in such a horrid way.
