by Shauna Allen
“Just think about it, Micah,” Blake hollered behind me. “You can’t keep fighting the war in your head. It’ll kill you.”
I ignored him and got busy, cranking my workbench radio on full blast as a ‘Keep Away’ sign. It worked until the scent of lunch wafted my way. I dropped my wrench with a clank and uncoiled to stand. I stifled a groan. It was a regular family reunion around here. When did an auto shop become a place for anything other than men and cars?
Delilah smiled, her daughter giving me a toothy grin as she toddled along in front of her. Baby Declan was propped in some sling contraption to his mother’s chest sound asleep, milk dribbling down his chin.
Rachel strolled in next, her and Jesse’s daughter, Avery, in a stroller with bags of Mexican take-out slung precariously over the handles.
A very pregnant Tori took up the rear, waddling straight over to her husband, Trace, for a kiss. He reached down and caressed her belly then nuzzled her neck, making her squeal.
My eyes automatically scoured the empty doorway for Jewel, but she wasn’t there. Disappointment slid through me hot and heavy, before I stifled it. I just wanted to see her to gauge her reaction to my silly text messages. If I was being totally honest, I longed to connect with someone who wasn’t maddeningly in love. Someone who also denied their pain. She may think she hid it well, but someone as tortured as I was knew a kindred spirit when they saw one. I could see through her as clear as glass. I just wished I knew what hurt her. If it was within my power, I’d fucking eradicate it with my bare hands.
“Hey, Micah,” Rachel called as Jesse grabbed the food.
I waved half-heartedly, pretending to be busy with the part in my hand.
She unbuckled her daughter and strolled my way. “Wanna join us? We brought plenty of food.”
My gaze automatically moved to Avery. Soft brown hair that was beginning to edge toward Rachel’s red was collected into a tiny spout of a ponytail on top of her head, big hazel eyes studied me intently.
“Wanna hold her?” Rachel’s voice was soft, knowing.
“I’m filthy.”
Rachel laughed. “Her father is worse than that every day he comes home and it’s never stopped him. Wash up. You can hold her while we set up the food then you can eat with us.” Her tone left no room for argument.
I nodded and washed up at the sink. Rachel was waiting right where I’d left her, something like sympathy softening her dark eyes. “Here.” She handed me Avery then spun away to help with lunch. She knew by now that I’d be fine on baby duty.
“Hey there, little girl,” I crooned, bouncing Avery against my chest.
She reached out and touched my nose.
I tilted my head and kissed her finger, making her smile. We moseyed to the open bay doors and looked out at the bright Texas sunshine. She squealed when she spotted a lone pigeon pecking at some crumbs on the ground.
God, I lived for these moments. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, like the sweet innocence of a child to block out the ugliness. I envied my friends. They had no idea how good they had it. But I did, and if bottling up my demons kept their lives cleaner, then that’s what I’d do.
I hoisted Avery above my head. “No ugly monsters for you, right? Only unicorns and butterflies.” I razzed her belly.
She chortled, her smile lighting up my dark world for just a moment.
“Bring me my daughter and come eat,” Jesse called across the garage.
I tucked Avery football style under my arm and jogged over, earning myself more giggles. Jesse swooped her up with a noisy kiss to her cheek. I’d never seen my buddy this happy, and I knew he had nearly as much deep, dark, desperate shit as I did. It gave me hope.
We sat around Blake’s office and ate. The women fed the kids while baby Declan slept on against his mom’s chest. Blake, Jesse, and Trace talked shop and vacations and how Trace’s son, Ryder, was doing in school.
“He’s so excited for this baby, it’s crazy,” Tori said, rubbing her belly in affectionate circles.
“So is his Daddy.” Trace grinned, his eyes only for his wife.
“Have you guys picked out names yet?” Delilah asked, wiping crumbs from Molly’s face.
Tori shrugged, her eyes pinging to Trace. “If it’s a girl, we’re thinking Bailey. If it’s a boy, Brady.”
“You’re seriously not going to find out what it is?” Rachel looked incredulous.
“Nope.” Tori shook her head vehemently and grabbed another chip. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it does,” Rachel continued. “You need to prepare and shop and decorate . . .”
I spoke in their defense before I realized the words were out of my mouth. “It doesn’t matter as long as the baby is healthy.”
Everyone stopped and stared.
I swallowed and looked down.
Still nobody moved, obviously as shocked as I was that I’d spoken. I glanced up, my gaze darting around to my friends in turn. “What? It’s no big deal. Leave them alone.” I stood and dumped my trash. “A baby is a blessing no matter what. Just let them be happy.” I stalked away, not sure why I’d jumped their asses like that. I’d just snapped.
If I couldn’t have any joy in my life, I wanted those I loved to have it in spades. My time in Afghanistan should’ve at least earned that.
Jewel
I did it. Bright and early the next day, I registered for my first online forensic art class to start in the fall. Just the basics, but it was a start and built on what I already knew. It was a step in the right direction, though my feelings of pleasure were short-lived as I sat across from Theresa, the latest victim of the Baybridge rapist.
She stared blankly at the precinct’s scratched and scarred wooden table, her blue eyes heavy with detachment. I knew that look well, I saw it in the mirror often during my time with Nolan.
I placed my pencil down and reached out to cup her hand. “Theresa?”
Her gaze flew up as if I’d startled her.
I offered her a gentle smile, one that hopefully conveyed I had some idea what she was going through. Maybe not exactly, but enough. “Take your time.”
She sniffled and attempted a smile in return. I handed her a tissue so she could dab the tears that had begun to fall. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” My words were firm. She needed to hear this. “Don’t ever say you’re sorry. You did nothing wrong. I don’t want this to be any harder on you than it has to be. Do you need a break? Want to try again tomorrow?”
Trembling hands tucked her stringy blond hair behind her ear. “No. I want to get this over with.” Her eyes flashed to mine. “But if it’s the same man, why do we need to do this? Haven’t you gotten enough drawings?”
I nodded. “We do. It’s important that we get each victim’s perspective, to make sure we don’t miss anything important.” I picked up my pencil and focused on the face taking shape on my paper. “So, his face is round, right?”
She nodded.
“What about his eyes? Tell me about those.”
It was the same as I’d heard the half dozen times before. Evil eyes. Brown nearly black. But this time, something new. “They’re, I don’t know, kinda deep-set, with heavy eyebrows.”
I erased and made the eyes deeper. “Like this?”
She nodded. “He had a beard, too.”
I glanced up, surprised. Nobody else reported facial hair. “Can you describe it?”
“Uh . . .” She mimicked touching her face. “A regular beard. Not long, not short. Full, I guess.”
“Red?” It was known the rapist was red-headed.
She squinted. “More like brown, I think.”
My heart began to quiver as this person morphed into someone new. “Tattoos? Other markings?” I held my voice steady.
“I can’t be sure. Maybe?”
How did she miss the swastika on his neck? Was this truly a different perpetrator?
“Okay. What about his nose?”
She describe
d the same wide nose the other victims had. I drew it and showed her.
“No. It’s not that straight. It looked like he’s broken it before maybe.”
I erased and added the imperfection.
We made it through his mouth, chin, and cheekbones, saving his hair for last. I flipped it around when we were done, my stomach in double knots. “Is this the man who raped you?”
She studied it closely. Then her eyes flooded with tears. “Yes. That’s him.” She jumped from her chair and fled the room, a female officer following close behind.
I spun the drawing back, bracing myself to face the man I’d created. Suddenly, the unknown, nameless monster who’d terrorized countless women began to morph into the one man who still held me captive.
It couldn’t be Nolan. I knew that on a rational level, but my mind wasn’t fighting fairly. Flashbacks of him ripping at my clothes, fondling me with rough hands, all while degrading me with his words, macheted through me, leaving physical pain in their wake.
You’re disgusting.
Look at you . . . you’re a fat pig.
Good for nothing but fucking.
I’d tried to push past it. Tried to fight it, not believe him. It worked most of the time. But like a trained rat, I always came back in my mind. The questions and doubts. Could he have been right?
“No.” I spoke out loud as an affirmation to myself as I headed to my truck in the police station parking lot for my much needed lunch break.
Sweat immediately coated my skin from the oppressive summer heat. The sudden sensation of being watched grabbed me and my eyes darted around the lot. It was empty. Nobody. I hurried to my truck, locked myself inside, cranked the engine, and blasted the air conditioner. I swiped the moisture from my upper lip and focused on getting myself together. I had created a new Jewel since I left the nightmares in Florida behind. I had a restraining order and a shiny new life.
I threw the truck into reverse and began to back up, but a movement from the corner of my eye had me slamming on the brakes. I checked my rearview mirror just as a man walked past behind me. Stalky and not too tall, his gaze met mine in the mirror. Deep, dark eyes blinked at me, his face hidden behind his beard.
A scream was trapped in my throat, a hostage to the bubbling fear that began to swirl and whirl through me like a cyclone.
I struggled for breath.
My fingers went numb.
He continued to stare, his mouth moving with words I couldn’t hear. I imagined all sorts of vile things . . . then a woman grabbed his arm, shot my truck a glare, and they walked away together.
A ragged breath fell from my lips.
It was official.
I was losing it.
I couldn’t even cry. I was on serious adrenalin letdown as I cautiously pulled out and drove out of the lot. I headed to my apartment on autopilot, but as I sat waiting to cross traffic to turn into my complex, I realized I could not go home. I simply couldn’t face the emptiness that awaited me, demons in every corner.
I hit the gas and merged back into traffic, no particular destination in mind. When I ended up in Delilah’s driveway, parked behind her new crossover SUV, I didn’t even remember driving there, but I wasn’t surprised. I felt safe with her. She knew all my deep, dark secrets. Even the ones I was too ashamed to admit to the rest of my family.
I found her outside, watching little Molly splash in a blue kiddie pool, baby Declan lying on a blanket in the shade, chewing a teether.
She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Hey, you. What’re you doing here?”
I pushed my truck door closed and ambled her way. “Just came to say hi.” I smiled down at Molly, who was dunking a toy elephant under the water.
I glanced back when Delilah said nothing. She stared at me with inscrutable blue eyes, her lips curled into a frown. “Liar,” she finally said.
With a sigh, I plopped next to her on the grass. “Maybe.”
Declan began to fuss and she picked him up in the practiced way of a mother, putting him to her shoulder and patting his back. “What’s wrong?”
Now the tears came. I couldn’t help it. I blubbered on like an idiot, my words incoherent and spewed from an emotional well I’d capped off.
Delilah stood. “Come on.”
She didn’t wait for me to answer. She herded her daughter out of the pool and we all tromped inside. Somehow, she managed to tuck me into the couch with a glass of iced tea and a peanut butter sandwich while she got the kids down for naps.
Once the house was quiet, she sat with me, her eyes sympathetic. “Okay. Let me see if I caught all that. Another rape victim. The description she gave looked a little like Nolan. You freaked. You almost ran over a guy. And your little brother is coming for a visit.”
“That about covers it.” I dabbed my eyes. “Well, the guy I nearly hit looked like Nolan, too. I guess I have him on the brain and it’s got me a little freaked out.”
“He doesn’t know where you are, does he?”
“I don’t think so. I only told my parents and brothers and swore them to secrecy. They never liked him anyway, so I don’t think they’d tell him even if he did have the balls to ask about me.” I would make sure of that when John got there.
“It wasn’t him, right?”
I shot her a confused glance.
“The rapist she described today. The guy in the parking lot.”
“No.” My voice was a strangled whisper, but that didn’t keep the fear from screaming something else in my heart.
“No,” she echoed. “I think maybe today brought up some bad memories that you haven’t really dealt with.”
Same song, different verse. She worried about me. I glanced away and sipped my drink.
“Have you thought any more about talking to someone? If you’re hell-bent on keeping this secret from your family, I’m sure Tori could help.”
“Tori? She works with kids.”
“I know, but she’s still trained in psychology. She’s better than no one.”
Great. Just what I needed. To spill my guts to one of my new friends so she’d feel sorry for me. No, thanks. I was doing all right.
Delilah handed me a clean tissue since I’d torn up the one in my hand. I thanked her, suddenly uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have come.
I stood to go, excuses on my lips.
“What about Micah’s class?”
I whipped back to her. “What?”
“Micah’s self-defense class. Nolan may not be here, but maybe it’d be good for you to learn some stuff and feel empowered to protect yourself.” Her face softened. “It might help you.”
I thanked her and promised to think about it before hustling out the door to head back to work.
I wasn’t sure anything could help me now.
Micah
I finished up the last job of the afternoon, a set of new rotors on an ancient boat of a car, then left early to hit the gym. Unease that I couldn’t name ate at me, a sense of foreboding crawling up my throat like acid. I needed to get rid of some of this excess emotion before dealing with the public.
I apparently had a brand new self-defense class of a dozen women, all ready to learn how to kick some potential rapist’s ass. It was my job to help them learn not only the moves to protect themselves, but the mental space they needed to be in to do it. Defending yourself is not about aggression or offense. It’s about being smart and calm and using your inner power. Something I was definitely lacking at the moment.
I met JD by the free weights after changing into my gym shorts and a worn gym T-shirt. Restless, I bounced on the balls of my feet like a fighter about to hit the ring. “Hey, dude. What’s up?”
He eyeballed me. “Not much. Thanks for doing this class.”
I rolled my neck. “No worries.”
“I promise I’ll keep looking for someone to help so it’s not all on you. Though, I’ll admit, Kathy appreciates it. She loves you, dude . . . though I have no idea why.”
“It’s my charm,” I deadpanned without cracking a smile.
“Yeah. I know.” His gaze floated to the door. “Looks like some of our newbies are getting here.” He faced me again. “Go. Work off some of that tension. I’ll get them signed in and ready for you.”
He knew me well. I nodded, thankful, and took off for the punching bag in the back corner. It was silent back here, which was what I needed to get myself in the right frame of mind to deal with a room full of women tonight. Normally, JD and I sparred until I was exhausted, but tonight I had to be social. As in speak.
I let my mind be lulled as I jabbed at the speed bag, my rhythm getting faster and fiercer, more instinctual. I began to bounce again, my arms still beating the bag into submission. I don’t know how long I was at it, but sweat was rolling down my face when JD finally got my attention.
“They’re all here and in the back room.”
My hands dropped, my breath scissored in and out of my lungs. “Okay. Thanks.”
He offered me a water bottle then spun away.
I chugged half the water then wiped my face with the bottom of my shirt as I headed to the back. Time to get this show on the road. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then swung open the door. Women’s chatter filled my ears, but was quickly silenced by my appearance.
I glanced around, trying to keep my face neutral, if not pleasant. “Good evening, ladies . . .” As my gaze swung around the room, I backtracked and froze. What was she doing here? I swallowed, looked away then back again to be sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
Nope.
Jewel Jackson was in my class, alone in the back corner, her platinum hair in a high ponytail, her eyes uncertain. She offered me a tiny wave, as if not wanting to be busted for knowing the teacher. Something in me uncoiled and warmth filled my belly.
She was here.
I cleared my throat and moved to the front of the room. “I’m assuming you’re all here for the gym’s Safety First self-defense class. If so, you’re in the right place. My name is Micah Christian, and I’ll be your instructor for the next few weeks.” I talked a little bit about what we’d be covering in class, but my eyes were continually drawn to Jewel. I hated speaking in front of people, and I’d only agreed to teach this class because of her. She’d never come before now, but I would never ask why. Thank God she finally realized she needed to protect herself from that douchebag who liked to prey on blondes.
