The Deliverance of Desiree Tanner

by Kindra Sowder

  The Deliverance of Desiree Tanner

  Kindra Sowder

  Kindra Sowder (USA): 3724 Cowpens Pacolet Rd., Spartanburg, SC 29307

  This edition published in 2016 by Kindra Sowder (USA)

  Copyright © Kindra Sowder 2016

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Chapter 1

  “You have made great strides towards recovery in the past month, Ms. Tanner,” Doctor Elliot voiced as he took a sip of his strong black coffee, setting it on the small table beside him, coaster in place to protect the polished dark wood. “I believe we can stay the course with the treatment. The Prozac seems to be working.” He paused, brown eyes intent on me through thick bifocals. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” I said as I absentmindedly traced the long, puckered scar running down the palm of my right hand. “I’m still having nightmares.” The tiny gray skulls on my leggings were glaring at me, making it impossible to focus on the doctor’s words as he scribbled on his legal pad.

  “That’s perfectly normal considering what happened to you. The attack will leave some long lasting emotional and psychological damage. You may never fully recover, but I will get you as close as I can.”

  There was an awkward silence, filled with distrust on my part. Since the attack I hadn’t been able to trust many people, the good doctor included, but it was getting better. Much better. The medication and our weekly visits were a far cry from my stay in the institute that caused so many to grieve over me like they had lost me to death that day. I scanned the room, with its sky blue walls and gray carpet. It was meant to be comforting, but it wasn’t. If anything, it caused my unease to rear its ugly head at the reminder of the color of his eyes.

  “Alex wasn’t always bad, you know?” The words escaped from my mouth of their own volition. I had not given them permission to be heard, but they ran away from me just like every other time.

  Doctor Elliot looked up at me, pushing his bifocals back onto the bridge of his nose as he cleared his throat and shifted in the plush chair. “I know.” He paused. “You still feel guilty.” It wasn’t a question.

  Yes, I still felt guilty. It was self-defense. That was the justification that I couldn’t wrap my head around no matter how true it was or how hard I tried to make myself believe it. There was nothing easy about taking a life no matter what the circumstances. I had learned that the hard way. Alex had been caring, gentle, and loving before. There was no hint of the killer that was underneath, not until that day. I had been home alone, and something had snapped inside of him, leaving something dark and wicked in its wake. Something I sincerely hoped never to see again. This led to my diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder and a week-long hospital stay with nightmares, hallucinations, and moments of dissociation. Typical, they said.

  I nodded.

  “It’s called survivor’s guilt, and it’s quite normal. That is something else we will also work on during your sessions.” He used his index finger to push his glasses up again.

  I looked down at the long scar down the palm of my hand, still tracing it lightly with my fingertip. An image of broken glass on the ground, a large piece cutting into my hand and blood flowing forcing its way into my mind like an unwelcome visitor. Shaking my head, I placed my hand on my lap, palm down, so I didn’t have to see the ugly reminder of that day’s events. A sigh made its way through my slightly parted lips. The anxiety was creeping into my throat and making a lovely home in my chest along with my rapidly beating heart, causing me to feel the need to do the one thing I knew could save me from the feeling. I wanted to run. As far away as I could, but I knew that would be impossible. Doctor Elliot could see it in me, his brown eyes filling with grave concern and empathy. He was going to cut our session short, and I was relieved.

  “Let’s do this. We will keep you on the current dosage of the Prozac and I’ll see you again next week. How does that sound?” His voice was full of sorrow as he carefully watched me, searching for any sign that I would be headed back to the mad house. He wasn’t going to find any.

  Sitting upright I answered, “That sounds okay.”

  “And your roommate is here to take you home, right?” He stood, setting his yellow legal pad onto the side table beside his coffee, black pen marks had taken over the first page.

  “Yes.” I stood along with him, pulling my brown leather satchel onto my shoulder. It was fall, so I was wearing leggings, knee high brown suede boots, and a sweater dress. The bag just happened to match. “He went to the hardware store down the block and is probably waiting in the car by now.”

  He nodded as he led me to the door that led to the lobby of his very well-kept, modern office. His receptionist would be waiting at the polished oak desk right outside the door, pen ready to mark me down for my appointment a week from today. She always wore her platinum blonde hair in a loose bun and her pantsuit was always neatly pressed, but there was something so internally unkempt about her. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Doctor Elliot opened the door and made the request of her.

  “Charlotte, please make sure Ms. Tanner makes her next appointment before she leaves.”

  “Will do,” she practically sang as she snatched up the appointment book and her silver pen. It was the same one she always used, and it sparkled in the sun, causing tiny flecks of sunlight to shine against the polished wood of her desk.

  I moved past him and towards her desk, squinting against the glittery sparkles that assaulted my retinas. If only those were the only things I saw sometimes. Then everything would be right with the world.

  Chapter 2

  The chill of the air outside hit my uncovered face and neck as I made my way out of Doctor Elliot’s office, causing me to cross my arms over my chest even though the rest of my body was warm. It was the only sign that Fall was among our small town, the leaves not yet changing to their beautiful oranges and reds as the year grew colder. The wonderful thing was that the sun was out, beaming down on me, but not providing the warmth it was known for. I took a deep breath in as the door shut noisily behind me, letting the cool air move through my throat, chilling it ever so slightly as I let the same breath out.

  I scanned my surroundings, noticing the black Jeep Wrangler that I arrived in with my roommate still parked in the same spot we had left it. Luke was a wonderful man and one I had known since the age of five where most children have a tendency to meet lifelong friends. He was smart, attentive, and attractive, but not once did I ever see him in a romantic light and we were both alright with that. He had been the most helpful when it came to my afflictions and offered to take me in as a roommate in his three bedroom house that his parents had left him when they died when my parents decided the PTSD was too much for them to handle.

  As I moved towards the Jeep, I began to fish for my cell phone within the large satchel I carried. He wasn’t waiting in the car and was more than likely still in the hardware store down the block, but I wasn’t about to go searching for him. I could wait, but I would be waiting alone which caused my anxiety t
o peak yet again, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead and body. My palms even began to perspire as I dug around inside the cavern for the phone, my hand gripping everything but that item. More panic.

  Out of the corner of my eye, something drew my attention, and I couldn’t help but look up while still rummaging. What I saw stopped me in my tracks. A tall, dark figure was standing next to the car, face unreadable and barely recognizable in the darkness he was shrouded in despite the light from the sun surrounding me. The edge of his long coat was clear against the bright sunlight and blew slightly in the small breeze, hands in his pockets. Fear gripped me like a vice. I wanted to turn around, walk back into Doctor Elliot’s office and tell him I was hallucinating again, but I was rooted to the spot and completely frozen in terror. Completely and utterly immovable. I had even stopped hunting through my bag, the search for the cell phone a long forgotten memory.

  My breathing became ragged as sweat trickled down my back and my heart raced behind my rib cage, my mind sprinting right along with it and not only matching my heart’s speed but outrunning it all together.

  He is dead, I thought to myself. I repeated it in my mind over and over until there was no way I could doubt it. But he was still there. Unmoving. Unflinching. Unchanging except for the blowing tendrils of his long coat. He is dead. You killed him. He is dead. The words didn’t change the feeling of dread and terror that ripped through me and formed a solid pit in my gut right along with the lunch I had had earlier, nausea moving up my throat.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as I stood there, not wanting to take in the scene before me. Knowing that there was no conceivable way for Alex to be standing next to Luke’s car. I just had to be sure.

  My eyes shot open, and Luke was before me, blue eyes regarding me with concern as he stood in front of me, blocking my view of what was behind him. A soft cry was all I could muster, a solitary tear rolling down my cheek that I quickly wiped away.

  “Are you alright?” he asked as he continued to watch me, his stare not leaving my face as I tried to compose myself.

  “He was there, I’m sorry,” I breathed.

  He turned away from me, searching around for someone he also knew could not possibly be there. Trying to appease me, it seemed.

  He placed a hand on my shoulder and bent down to look me in the eye, “Do you need to go back?” I knew what he meant. He meant did I need to go back to the hospital. Did I need to live in that cesspool of insanity again?

  I shook my head and waved him off; looking past his shoulder for all of a second to see that the figure was no longer there.

  “No. I’m okay. Just tired is all. I think I just need some rest.”

  “Well, you haven’t been sleeping well so I think you could be right.” He shifted the bag I just noticed in his hand to the other, placing his arm around my shoulders and guiding me towards the car that I was still regarding with a suspicious glare.

  He had been there. I knew he was dead, but Alex had been standing there watching me, and I knew this wasn’t over. It may have been something my mind cooked up to cope with what had happened to me, but that didn’t matter. It was real enough to me.

  Chapter 3

  Once we had gotten home, I had collapsed onto my bed, dropping the satchel on the brown carpet and not even carrying to remove my boots. The world of dreams and nightmares had taken over within seconds, and I was thrust into darkness. At first.

  Now I was walking down the hall of my old home to my bathroom in a tank top and a black pair of yoga pants. What I had been wearing that day. Straightened hair as always and no socks or shoes. I was home alone, and the house was silent except for the music flowing through the space like a wondering child, but it was music I didn’t recognize.

  In the blink of an eye, I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, opening the medicine cabinet to retrieve something, but I couldn’t remember what. Then I closed the medicine cabinet, coming to find someone standing behind me in my reflection. An unheard predator. Alex. His blue eyes bore into my reflected image, his brown hair a disheveled mess atop his head and he was dressed in all black. I wanted to smile, but I couldn’t. I was terrified of him, but why? Something inside of me was screaming for me to run, to get as far away from the man behind me as quickly as possible. All it took was the expression on his face.

  His jaw was set, the muscles underneath working as he clenched his jaw and his body nearly humming with a silent energy that I couldn’t interpret. Danger. Danger. Danger.

  “Hello, Desiree,” he said in a silky, predatory tone that almost made me flinch away from him, but I couldn’t move. Fear had glued my feet to the floor, my knees locked and body tense with the need to flee. His stare in the mirror was like liquid fire pouring into me and through my veins, and it was eating me away only to leave pure and unadulterated terror behind in its wake.

  “Alex, I didn’t know you were coming over,” I replied. His eyes flicked to mine, and then something changed. “Are you okay?”

  Before I knew it, his hand was tangled in my hair, and he was pulling, causing searing pain to rampage through my scalp. I fell to the ground and screamed as he began to drag me from the room and towards the hall, taking me in the direction of my bedroom.

  I awoke with a start and cried out, my heart hammering in my chest and covered in a layer of sweat that had soaked through my sweater dress and leggings. There was music playing. The same music I had heard in my dream and then I heard Luke whistling along, moving things around in the kitchen, the smell of food wafting into the air. I turned towards the alarm clock to find it was nearly six in the evening. I had been asleep since at least two.

  In the dream world it never felt you were asleep as long as you actually had been, but no matter how long I slept I was still exhausted. The energy had been zapped out of me along with the nightmare and the darkness of Alex’s actions.

  Everyone would always tell me I was a survivor, and my scars were proof of that, and I should be proud of it. The simple fact was that I wasn’t proud. I was terrified of my own survival. Of what I had done to attain it and now I was living with the consequences.

  Chapter 4

  Luke was sitting at the dining room table when I came out of my bedroom, eating a heaping bowl of beef stew. He knew it was my favorite, and no doubt put it together to make me feel better, but little did he know that no amount of food would do that tonight. If anything, a hot shower to wash the remnants of the nightmare away would barely do anything to rid me of the memories. I stood in the threshold and watched his as he used a roll to sop up some of the thick broth, ladling a large spoonful into his mouth, not even noticing I was there. He took another bite and then saw me, smiling as he chewed what remained in his mouth.

  “Hey. I was wondering if I’d have to check on you. You’ve been out for a few hours,” he said as he used his spoon to motion towards the empty chairs around the table. “You should eat something. I made your favorite.”

  I see that,” I replied as I nodded, knowing he’d want me to eat now rather than later. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping it on warm I’m going to take a shower. I feel disgusting.” Sweat had plastered my hair to my forehead and neck, and my body was slick. I turned away from him and began to walk towards the bathroom where I would find warm solitude.

  “Did you have another nightmare? Is that why you’re all sweaty? You’re even shaking a little.” he observed. He was more observant than I gave him credit for. That would have to change. I stopped walking and looked back at him, only turning my head. He was right. I was trembling like a leaf and hadn’t even realized it myself.

  “Yeah. It’s par for the course these days.”

  That was all he needed to hear. He got up from his perch at the table and walked towards me, wrapping me in a brotherly hug from behind, his strong arms enveloping me in the love and understanding that I so desperately needed that I couldn’t get from my own family. No one understood better than him. No one. Not my parents, not my therapist. Hell
, not even me sometimes.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I cradled his arms against me. “I’m going to take a shower.” I patted his arm, and he uncoiled from me, taking a couple of steps back to give me space. No other words needed to be uttered. I walked to the bathroom and was stopped by Luke calling my name. When I turned, he had walked to the head of the narrow hall, nothing but compassion and love in his eyes.

  “It’ll get better. I promise.”

  I nodded, “I know.”

  He then smiled a half smile filled with sadness and leaned against the wall, pushing his hands into his pockets as I turned to walk into the bathroom.

  Chapter 5

  Within mere moments I was under the hot spray, being pelted by tiny drops of liquid serenity that did so much, but yet so little, to wash my unease away.

  That was when I felt it. Something that felt like a warm, rough hand gliding across my belly, coming to rest directly below my navel. Like a lover would hold their companion. A sharp intake of breath next to my ear and my heart was pounding and anxiety peaking. I knew Luke hadn’t made his way in here. We had never once been romantic. If anything, he was like a brother to me. I turned around, seeing nothing. The feeling of hands on me was now gone, and I was left standing under the hot water. Petrified.

  It had to be nothing. Just a figment in my messed up mind that told me I felt something. That the loving caresses I was used to from the man who tried to murder me for reasons unknown were still ever present. How funny was it that I wanted them back? That I missed the part of Alex that had cared for me. The part of him that wasn’t a monster.

  My hair moved off of my shoulder like someone had pushed it back and I felt an invisible hand tangle itself into the long, wet locks. I was frozen. I wanted to run but couldn’t move. A part of me thought this was just a part of my illness. That the crazy was finally beginning to take over and I wouldn’t be me ever again. Then there was the other part of me that knew without the shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t something my mind cooked up. This was real. The man behind me was real.