The Ex Killer Series

by Bridget Bundy

  My thoughts began to take over at that point. There were no more stimuli to keep my mind busy. I pondered what Olivia was doing now. I bet she was enjoying life. I bet she had brand new friends and was spending time with them. I know Tony was spoiling her, and she deserved it. I hoped she was getting the best in life.

  As for me, I wished I had better luck. All of the crap I’ve done to myself and to other people. I knew I didn’t deserve anything good, and there was no salvation for me. I’d taken more than one life, and I was probably doomed to suffer for it. Thinking about my past discretions made me feel really bad. I hated that I took the lives of my ex-boyfriends now. All of that hate and revenge landed me right in the hands of my rapist. It was just that simple.

  I just wanted one good thing to happen in my life, and I was counting on a man who never showed me one ounce of love. It was a desperate, crazy chance I was taking. My anxiety was making my head spin. I was so hoping my father would see me and welcome me into his home and his heart. If he didn’t, then I’d be lost forever. I had to stop thinking about him. I had to get my mind on something else, anything else.

  I squeezed the backpack harder, and then I remembered I stole those guys’ identifications. Who were they anyway? Who was the man that raped me? I unzipped the backpack and searched for their wallets. I found the first one. It was brown leather and worn. He had a condom in it and little pieces of papers with girls’ names and phone numbers. Who in the hell would give those bums their phone numbers? I read the first one. Wendy and her digits were scribbled with big loops. Another read Brinea, and she only wrote down six numbers. I wondered if she did that on purpose, and he was too stupid to see the number was incomplete. I found his driver’s license, and it was Dreadlocks. In the picture, his locks weren’t as long. He smiled with perfect white straight teeth, and he had dimples. His real name was Davin Tensler. Davin was 25 years old and an organ donor. He lived in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. I bet he high tailed it to Chapel Hill like a bat out of hell when he saw what I did to Afro.

  I pulled out the next wallet, and there was a social security card and a driver’s license. His name was Morris Parker. I stared at his image, and discovered Morris was Big Nose. That thing was even bigger in the picture. Morris the Big Nose was the fine resident of Clayton, North Carolina. He was 21 years old.

  The last wallet had credit cards and identification. As a matter of fact, there were ten credit cards and none of them had a male name on them. I bet they were stolen. I glared at the image of Afro. It was a commercial driver’s license. The guy had braids to his scalp in designs, and he didn’t smile. It looked like a prison picture. The name of the man that raped me was Rick Rosper. He was 27 years old. He lived in Raleigh right on Rock Quarry Road. I decided I would keep his. Now I knew the address that he used to call home. I wasn’t planning on ever going to his house, but it was just something I would keep. This was the man I killed because he was trying to kill me, and now, I knew his name. I repeated it, Rick Rosper. I would never forget it.

  The intercom announced my bus number. I tossed the wallets and their contents into the garbage, but I kept the credit cards. I went to the man at the vending machines and handed the credit cards to him. I didn’t look him in the face because I didn’t want him to remember me when he got caught. I went right out the bus station without saying a word and got on the bus. Just as quickly, he walked out holding the cards with a meaningful stride. He was about to go on a liquor shopping spree courtesy of Rick Rosper. He was out of my vision within seconds. I laughed, hoping he’d get everything he wanted.

  After five minutes of loading and the driver checking everyone’s tickets, the bus started out of town. This was the last leg of my trip. By morning, I might be seeing my dad for the first time since I was a little kid. I was so scared.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 2009

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I’ve never been to New Britain, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t too bad looking. It looked like any other town. It appeared to be bigger than Colum and Wisp. Whereas Colum was more rural and less busy, New Britain was a little bit faster. Wisp was more colorful. The people accepted its natural surroundings and built their homes to accommodate the beauty of the environment. New Britain felt like a town on the verge of being a city.

  The bus station was actually a gas station. No one was really interested in helping me. One lady was pulling in for gas, spotted me, and reconsidered her decision. I must have looked like total shit because she blazed out of there like I was a disease.

  There was a payphone on the side of the building. I remembered my father’s phone number. I stared at the dials wondering if he still lived in New Britain. Last I heard he did, but I didn’t know how many years ago I was told this. Quickly, I dialed the numbers. There was a pause, nothing, and then it began to ring. My heart was pounding! My greatest fear was being rejected. I don’t think I could survive it.

  “Hello,” a soft voice with a Spanish accent answered.

  I had the wrong number. I was disappointed.

  She spoke again, “Hello! Shepherd residents!”

  This was my father’s number! Thank you God! I asked “Is Paul Shepherd there?”

  “Who might I ask is speaking,” she asked.

  I hesitated but finally spoke up, “My name is Angela Gray. I’m his daughter.”

  “Hold please,” the woman said.

  There was a long silence.

  Another female voice answered through the phone, “This is Poppy Shepherd. Did you say your name was Angela Gray, Paul’s daughter?”

  I forgot about Poppy, my dad’s sister. Andrea had photos of her, and she was such a beautiful person. She smiled in all of her pictures, every single one of them showed how much she loved life.

  “Yes,” I answered. My stomach was doing flips. I hoped she wasn’t going to turn me away.

  “Where are you?”

  I told her the name of the gas station, and the business across the street from it. I couldn’t see the name of the roads. Poppy knew exactly where I was, and she told me she was on the way. Just like that, she was coming for me. I couldn’t wait to see her. She was family, and that’s what I needed the most.

  It wasn’t long before a black car stopped in front of me. A stern looking African American man in a dark suit got out of the driver’s side and opened the back door. Poppy came out like a goddess and walked towards me. I didn’t make any moves towards her because I was so afraid she’d push me away. I was filthy and beat up, and I couldn’t see her accepting me like this.

  Poppy was a tall, African American woman. She was stately and proud, dressed in a gorgeous one piece blue dress. Her healthy black hair settled on her shoulders in full curls. Her eyes were brown, and her face was long and thin. Poppy was not fat, but she was curvy.

  She stopped in front of me, and she gently touched my sore face. I winced and the tears started flowing. I couldn’t stop crying. She wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace, and I melted. I finally found safety, another piece of my family, and I didn’t have to worry about being alone anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Poppy lived in a two-story brick home in a wide open field with natural tree barriers surrounding the property. The open space was mowed grass and lone wild flowers. No other houses could be seen. There were two white Mercedes parked on the right side blocking the front entrances of the garage. I don’t know if they were Poppy’s cars, but I sure wanted one. The driver stopped in front of the french doors that appeared to be a secondary entrance into the house. He opened the car door for us, and I followed Poppy into a room that appeared to be an office.

  It was an organized room with a computer on a huge red oak desk. The printer was on a longer table behind her leather chair. Books and trinkets filled in the shelves on the right hand side of the room. The air conditioning kept the space comfortable. A faint smell of oranges hung in the air, and the room was brightly lit with lamps and natural light from the window beside the door.

  Po
ppy asked me to sit down, and she went behind the desk to make a phone call. Someone answered, and she began speaking fluent Spanish. I had no idea what she was saying, but I thought my aunt was pretty amazing for speaking another language.

  She hung up the phone and told me to have a seat on the burgundy sofa. My clothes were filthy. I didn’t want to ruin her furniture. That burgundy sofa looked very expensive with its plush, velvet fabric.

  “It’s alright, Angela,” Poppy encouraged me.

  I cleared my throat and sat down carefully trying to make sure I didn’t scoot or shift on the fabric. I didn’t want any dirt rubbing off.

  Poppy sat beside me with a gentle smile. Before she could speak, a young man walked in. He was African American, probably a little older than I was, and he was beautifully dark. His skin tone was smooth, and his face didn’t have a single blemish. His eyes were brown under crowns of thick eyebrows and eyelashes. His brushed hair was wavy and short to the scalp. He was dressed in a short sleeve yellow and white striped shirt and blue jeans. His look was finished off with dark mustard colored boots.

  Our eyes met, and he spoke to me in a cordial manner. He didn’t even stare at me despite the fact my face was swollen and bruised. He handed Poppy a compress, and he exited out the door he came in.

  Poppy placed her cool hand under my chin, and she lightly pressed the compress on my bruised cheek. It didn’t make me feel any better, but I let her help me anyway. I didn’t mind the attention one bit.

  “What happened to you, Angela?” She asked.

  I shook my head. The truth was too much and too heavy to talk about. Actually, I was ashamed and humiliated.

  “Who did this to you?” She placed the compress behind her on a small table beside the arm of the sofa.

  I didn’t want to say his name out loud. I refused by shaking my head.

  Poppy asked in a serious tone of voice, “Were you raped?”

  The tears came so easily, and I lowered my head to wipe them away.

  “When did this happen? You can tell me, Angela. It’s okay. I’m here to help you.” Poppy spoke with deep sincerity and worry.

  “Yesterday,” I managed to blurt out. The ton of hurt I endured was pouring through my tears.

  Poppy took my hand in hers and said, “It’s going to be alright.”

  I cried and shook. I had no control to stop. It was beyond my strength to even try.

  “Angela,” Poppy leaned down a little to catch my eyes. She wanted me to look at her. She continued, “You need a doctor.”

  “I can’t afford one.” I sobbed through my words.

  “You don’t have to worry about the costs. It’ll be taken care of. What’s important here is your health.”

  “I’ll be okay, Poppy.” I wiped away my tears again. I was trying really hard to be brave in front of her.

  “No, Angela, if he didn’t use protection, which I’m sure he didn’t take the time to put on one, he might have transmitted a venereal disease to you. He might have ejaculated in you, as well.”

  “I didn’t think about that.” I stated with immediate panic.

  “I’ll call my doctor, and she’ll take good care of you.” Poppy opened her arms, and I leaned forward loving the comfort she was willing to give me. “We’re going to get you right again, Angela.”

  “Thank you, Poppy.”

  She made another phone call, but this time she spoke English. The conversation lasted for about a good minute before we were out the door. This time Poppy drove herself. I was glad because I really didn’t want the male driver to know I was going to see a gynecologist. I was dreading the visit anyway. Poppy assured me that her doctor was the best of the best, and I had nothing to worry about. No matter what she said, I was going to worry regardless.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I wasn’t very keen on peeing in a cup and giving blood, and I was even more resistant when it came to a pelvic exam. At least, the lady doctor was nice, and she was comforting as she worked.

  Her name was Dr. Lea Vetters. She was a bone straight, no curves kind of woman just like me. She had stringy blonde hair that was dark brown on the roots. Her eyes were light blue, and they seemed to catch every light in the room, dazzling her entire face. She spoke softly explaining every step before actually doing the step. I could see why Poppy chose Dr. Vetters as a doctor. She was a kind woman. She didn’t judge or berate me, and it made the visit ten times easier.

  The examination didn’t last long. She gave me a pill that prevented pregnancy, shots against any possible venereal infection and pain relievers. The doctor had everything I needed without going to a pharmacy. She told me in time my face would heal on its own. She also told me she’d contact me with the results from my HIV test.

  When she said those words, HIV, I didn’t realize how far beyond serious the rape was. If I hadn’t found my aunt, I would have never taken a HIV test or gone to a doctor at all. I was glad to be there. I would have continued through life never thinking about the repercussions of being raped.

  I left that office feeling better, not so ashamed of what happened to me. Maybe, this was a simple, awakening step to a more beneficial life. I hoped so. I really needed things to change.

  When we returned back to Poppy’s house, she set me up in a bedroom that seemed bigger than my old apartment in Colum. I even had my own private bathroom. She told me to get cleaned up and get some rest. That’s exactly what I did. The shower was amazing, but the bed was even better. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was the early part of the afternoon by the time I woke up. I only slept for five hours, but I felt rested. My stomach immediately started grumbling. That’s why I woke up so soon. I was absolutely starving. When was the last time I really ate a good meal? I couldn’t remember. When I sat up, I noticed there were knee length pants and a t-shirt at the foot of the bed. The clothes were new with tags still attached. Poppy even laid out clean underwear for me. How funny was that! She thought of everything. I dressed into my new clothes and slid my feet into the leather flip flops that were on the floor beside the bed.

  My head began to swim when I spun around to leave. My face started hurting and it felt swollen. I had to check myself in the mirror. What I saw pissed me off. The lower part of my face and part of my cheek were black. I pressed the sore area lightly, and my eyes welled up from the pain. I hated Afro! I cussed his name again. I wanted to forget him now, and I bet I was never going to.

  With an aggravated huff, I headed for the bedroom door. I looked up and down the hallway trying to decide which way to go. The house was very quiet. I decided to go in the direction that offered the most light. I went a few feet and came upon a landing that boasted a view of the foyer. A crystal chandelier was hanging from the center of the ceiling, and the front double doors were made of dark red wood that was framed with decorative windows. The floors were creamed colored marble, and they were immaculately clean and shiny in the natural light.

  “Hello.” The voice startled me, and I turned to see a woman dressed in a black maid’s uniform. She was shorter than me, but she was older. She was Hispanic, with a bright round face and big brown eyes. She had a pleasant smile, and I relaxed sensing there was no need to panic.

  “Hi,” I spoke back.

  “Follow me, please,” her accent rolled off of her tongue as she spoke, and I was just enamored by it.

  I followed the lady down the stairs. When we got to the foyer, we went to the room on the left, which appeared to be a huge living room. There was a matching loveseat and full size sofa, and they looked very expensive with intricate floral designs on the fabric. Another area in the room had two arm chairs facing one another with a small round table in between, and there were art pieces on the shelves of different sizes and colors. There was a huge fireplace with a crazy looking painting above it that had swirls of blue and white. Maybe, the painting was supposed to look like something, but I couldn’t see it. We kept going out of that roo
m, and the maid opened a door to Poppy’s office. She was sitting at her desk with her legs crossed, and she was typing on her computer.

  Poppy cut her attention immediately to us and said, “Thank you, Nina.”

  The maid nodded and closed the door gently leaving me alone with my aunt. Poppy rose from behind her desk and greeted me with a hug.

  “Angela, you didn’t sleep very long. How do you feel?”

  “I feel better, but I’m hungry.”

  “That’s good because Lodi has just set up lunch on the patio.” She went to another door that I thought was a window, and it opened up to a screened-in patio behind the house. A large round table had a feast that made my mouth water. There were finger foods, fruits, vegetables, and steaming hot soup. A tall glass pitcher of water, ice, and lemon was the only drink on the table. It all looked scrumptious, and we sat down together and fixed our plates. I tried to put every treat I could on mine with the exception of the soup.

  “We won’t run out, Angela.” Poppy noted with a smirk.

  I began to feel ashamed, and I immediately stopped.

  “Eat all you want. This is your home now. Just slow down.” Her understanding gaze put my heart at ease, and I started eating.

  “When did you leave Colum?” She asked as she poured me a glass of water.

  I chewed my sandwich completely before answering, “The early part of June.”

  “How are your sisters doing?”

  I answered in a solemn voice, “Andrea is dead.”

  Her shock came quick, and she stared at me searching for the joke to come next.

  “She was hit by a car.”

  Poppy shook her head in disbelief and repeated, “She was hit by a car?”