by Leanne Davis
She folded her arms over her chest again.
“Tell me about those men tonight.”
She looked out of the windows again, avoiding eye contact. One hand went to her other arm to push her fingernails into her skin. It was practically unconscious on her part.
“What about them?”
“What did you do with them? How many of them?”
“I had sex with them.”
He let that sink in. “Why? Why would a sixteen-year-old girl, or for that matter a twenty-year-old girl sleep with men well into their sixties? How did that come about?”
She was quiet for so long, he wondered where she was in her head. Finally, she softly whispered, “He told me to.”
He? The general? Did the general really whore out his own daughter? His innocent, little girl? Why? What would the general have to gain? And what did it all have to do with how Jessie ended up in Mexico? There was some connection, but there was something he was missing. Why did Jessie leave one country where she was abused, only to have it happen in another?
“How did he tell you to?”
She shrugged. “They play poker together once a month. One night, the general told me to stay in the house. Then he called me into the living room about halfway through the night and told me to go into the spare room. Then, in came Senator Johnstone. He ordered me to undress. I tried to pass by him, but the door was locked. I thought it was... Well, I didn’t understand what it was, until he told me my father wanted me to do this. That my father owed him some favors, and I was his payment. So I… I let him. I don’t know why I did it. Or why I didn’t fight, kick, scream, or do something, instead of following his orders. And then it happened again. And again. And every time, I’d just lie there and take it. Never objecting or complaining. Then, as time went on, there were different men. Different poker players.”
“And each time, it was your father who told you to go into that room?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t he? Not like I said no.”
Will could see all the pieces of Jessie Bains falling into place. She cut her thighs because she blamed herself for the myriad rapes her father arranged for her. She didn’t dare fight because he brainwashed and bullied her all her life. She didn’t know how to say no to her father. It was brilliant. The general knew Jessie would never tell, and if she did, no one would ever believe her. Jessie’s terror was the perfect accomplice, and her blind loyalty made her the perfect victim.
Jessie’s only retaliation was trying to destroy herself.
Will didn’t touch her, but he wanted to. He wanted to hold her, caress her, soothe her. He wanted to do something to eradicate the illusion of self-hatred haunting her. He wanted to murder every dirty old man who used her and hurt her. That was something he could do. He could easily sneak into all of those men’s houses, and silently, murder each and every one of them in their sleep, without anyone being the wiser or knowing he was there. He secretly wanted to do just that, including the general.
But he couldn’t. Jessie needed him too much.
“Listen to me, Jessie, it was not your fault. None of it. You did what you had to just so you could survive.”
“No, Will, I let them.”
Ahh finally, the reason, the why, the motivation behind all that Jessie did to punish herself. “You had no choice. You didn’t let anyone do anything. You were forced, and you got through it the best way you could. Just like what happened in Mexico.”
She stared out the window. “There must be something wrong with me for me to attract only men who want to hurt me.”
He gritted his teeth and squeezed the steering wheel to keep from grabbing her. Then, with his voice far quieter than his speeding heart, he said, “You respect me, don’t you, Jessie? You’ve always acted like you do.”
She looked at him, and gave a subtle nod. “Yes.”
“Well, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, sexually or otherwise. So listen to me when I say it isn’t your fault. Nothing that ever happened to you was your fault. Even the things you did that you think were wrong, are not your fault.”
“How long before you get tired of this? My problems? No one can live with them for long.”
“I can. I can live with a lot. Come on, let’s go inside. You’ve had enough for one night.”
She hesitated, but finally got out of the truck.
He quietly watched her disappear into the bathroom. He heard the water filling the bathtub. She was going to dissolve into the water, and hurt herself. Cut herself. He knew she kept spare razors hidden behind the last drawer in the cabinet. He knew she continued to do it because she couldn’t survive any other way. So he let her. He left her alone. He sat on the couch and rubbed his temple with his hands, trying to release the pressure that Jessie’s sad, young life created in him. He knew she expected him to leave her, to bolt, to deny it. Pretty much as Lindsey had. On some level, Lindsey must know the truth, but perhaps it was so deep, she kept it buried. Maybe Lindsey couldn’t deal with it so she made everything Jessie’s fault.
What could he do for Jessie? How could he help her? He knew that just loving her wasn’t enough. He could talk to her until he was blue in the face and never really touch the pain inside her. She needed help. Help he couldn’t give. Professional help. The problem was, he had no idea how to make her want to get it.
He also had to figure out how to live through her grief, acting out, and sporadic, unpredictable moods and episodes.
He questioned his motivation for a moment, sitting there in his apartment. He could leave it be. Let Jessie have the baby, divorce her, move on. Leave her.
But he knew now, he’d never do that. He had to try, because no one else would, before she ended up the victim of her own self-inflicted wounds. Someone had to love her enough to convince her to save herself. Despite his best intentions, that someone was him. Maybe because there was no one else. Or because he was the only one who really knew the whole story.
For once in his life, there was no walking away. There was someone who needed him more than he needed his independence.
Jessie was becoming a permanent fixture in his life, and under his care. Tonight only showed him how desperately Jessie needed his help. He squeezed his hand into a tight fist. There was nothing he could do to fix her, although he wanted to. God knows he did. But he could not. So he had to find out what kind of help was out there for the wounds Jessie suffered and did to herself to cope. He had to find her professional help, and then figure out how to get her to go there. He knew of two people whose aid he now needed, and it was time he contacted them.
He might have fallen in love with her, but there was little chance, Jessie would ever be in any kind of shape to love him back. Or have a healthy relationship. Jessie was now his responsibility, and deserving of his help, protection, and care. Not exactly the makings for an equitable relationship, or even the glimpse of a happy ending. All that Will hoped for Jessie and him was an okay ending, and an okay life for her. Anything would be better for Jessie than what she was now.
Chapter Seventeen
Jessie avoided Will for days. And he let her. Maybe he finally believed what was inside of her wasn’t normal. He got the whole nasty picture of who she was. Of course, he could only grow to hate her. Or, at the very least, keep her at even longer arm’s length than he already did.
She followed him on the jogging trails, often with few words uttered between them. She started cooking regularly for him, just to have an activity to fill her afternoons in the quiet apartment.
She began to appreciate little things about him, like how he cleaned up after himself. And after her. He never brought any of his friends home to gawk at her. He kept her separate from his real life, a life that she knew included close friends, sharing dinners, playing pool, and being out. She often wondered if that’s when he picked up women. At some point, he had to. But as long as it wasn’t with Lindsey, she didn’t care.
****
Then one even
ing, the doorbell pealed. Jessie rarely had visitors. Everyone knew she was home all the time, and consequently avoided Will’s place. There was a blond woman at the door, young and pretty, with long legs and torso, subtle curves, her hair, short and softly curled around her pretty face. The woman’s jaw dropped as she surveyed Jessie.
Jessie didn’t look all that great anymore. Her hair had grown too long and had split ends. She rarely mustered the energy to put on makeup anymore. She didn’t go anywhere, and didn’t do anything. She stayed in and wore loose-fitting clothes to hide the weight she was rapidly gaining. The woman took in Jessie’s entire body from head to toe, stopping at her stomach.
“Can I help you?”
“Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone here. I’m Gretchen Hendricks. Who are you?”
Will’s ex-wife? She was lovely, classy. And quite reminiscent of Lindsey.
“I’m Jessie. Jessie Hendricks.”
“Will got remarried?” The woman leaned into the doorjamb as if the shock of it might knock her off her feet. “He didn’t tell me. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me,” the women muttered, before straightening up, and smiling. “Forgive me, I’m being so rude. This, you, I mean, were quite a surprise to me.”
“I get that a lot. Will’s not here. You’ll have to come back later.”
Jessie slammed the door. She gathered most people didn’t slam the door in Gretchen’s face, and Jessie was being horrible to her. No doubt, Will would hear, but she couldn’t help it. Like Lindsey, the woman was everything Jessie wasn’t. And Will loved her and married her, only for real. Not like the shameful, embarrassing reasons Will married Jessie. Jessie left the pot of stew simmering. She went into the bathroom, and started filling the bathtub.
****
“Hello? Jessie? Are you there?” Lindsey called as she entered Will’s apartment. She rang the bell twice, and finally twisted the doorknob, and was surprised to find it unlocked. Now she was standing in the empty entry of the silent apartment, confused since the stove was on, with a heavy pot filling the small, bare apartment with a warm, spicy aroma.
Why didn’t Jessie try to fix it up? Make a home for Will? Why didn’t Jessie at least try to hold onto Will Hendricks?
There were tousled blankets and pillows on the couch. Did they have an argument? Lindsey called her sister’s name again. Finally, she entered the single bedroom. The bed was unmade, but it reeked of Jessie’s perfume. The room was strewn in clothing and Jessie paraphernalia, much like her room at home always looked. Jessie slept in here, but Will didn’t.
She heard the soft tinkling of water. Lindsey glanced at the closed door to the bathroom. She called again. Nothing. Finally Lindsey turned the doorknob, and entered the small bathroom. She stopped and gasped out loud. There lay her sister, quiet and unmoving, her head under water, her nose the only thing on the surface. Lindsey could see the smooth water rippling where her sister breathed. But other than that, she lay completely still in the pink-colored water. Water filled with Jessie’s blood. Lindsey’s eyes traveled over her sister’s body, and found the seeping trail of blood from her sister’s legs. Lindsey was absolutely horrified.
Jessie suddenly sat up, and with a startled look at Lindsey, her eyes widened. Lindsey backed up without a word, staring at the blood now beading down her sister’s legs when she stood.
“Lindsey, what are you doing in here?” Jessie screeched at her. She grabbed at the towel rack. She was alive. The relief rang sharply inside of Lindsey. For a split second, she thought the bloody bath held her dead sister. But no, she was alive. What was this?
Backing up more, Lindsey spun on her foot and ran out of the strange apartment. She ran down the front steps, to her car, and drove away from her crazy sister. The reason Will called her became alarmingly clear: her sister was insane.
****
Will looked up and smiled when he spotted Gretchen crossing the crowded floor of the restaurant. Half an hour ago, she called to announce she was in town, and where could they meet? His heart had leapt from his chest, thank God, Gretchen had made it in time to help him see his plan through.
Will’s eyes took her in. He always found her breathtaking. Her long legs, and classic features, which her short hair only emphasized. She always dressed business casual, and always neat as a pin. Something he totally appreciated.
She broke his heart when she left him. But he knew he broke hers too by always being gone when she needed him. Their split was never “he said/she said.” It was more about mutual regret and sadness. There was never any blame game, just two people who were unable to live with each other.
She slid into the booth across from him, smiling and dropping her purse next to her. She was now a successful child psychologist with her own practice in Northern California. She was halfway through her education when they accidentally, but happily, made a baby. A baby that they lost, and which led to their divorce. She moved on to finish her degrees and training, and now at twenty-eight years old, she had a successful practice.
She stared at him and her eyes filled with reproach. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married? Is that why you insisted I come see you?”
Will’s smile faltered. He didn’t expect her to go by his apartment first. “You met Jessie?”
“Jessie? She’s what? Nineteen? Twenty? How could you not tell me? I was totally blind-sided.”
Will let out a breath. “Jessie. You met Jessie. What did she do?”
Gretchen frowned at him. “What do you mean ‘what did she do?’ She looked terrible, acted very rude, and slammed the door in my face.”
Jessie did look terrible. She was rude. Jessie kept spiraling downhill since the dinner at her father’s house. And since telling Will more about her history. She didn’t groom herself. She didn’t shower. She just lay around and barely got up to go running with Will. She cooked terrible dishes for him that he could hardly manage to keep down.
“What’s going on? Who is she?”
“She’s Jessie Bains. General Bains’s daughter.”
Gretchen stiffened. She heard his name from Will before. He always said General Bains was his example of whom he’d like to emulate.
“The girl in the news recently? The one you saved?”
“The very same. Only there’s so much more.”
“She’s pregnant,” Gretchen said quietly, her face revealing the pain it caused her.
“It’s not mine.”
Gretchen’s eyebrows raised, and she blinked her eyes. “Then what are you doing married to her? My God, you never do things like this. It took you four years to marry me after we started dating, and we’d known each other since we were thirteen!”
“And look where that got me. Maybe timing wasn’t the answer.”
“Oh? But youth is? Is she even legal? I’ve known you for fifteen years, and nothing could have prepared me for this! You don’t act like this. What’s going on?”
“Yes, she’s legal. I’m well aware of what this looks like. The thing you’ve got to trust me on, is it’s nothing like it looks. Come on, you know me.”
Gretchen nodded. “I usually do. I just, this was such a shock, I guess. I lose perspective when it comes to you. I just never expected you to be remarried.”
“I know.” He felt a strange tic starting in his eye. What might Gretchen’s unannounced visit do to Jessie? He had asked Gretchen to come. He hadn’t expected her to show up in North Carolina, and go straight to his apartment.
“It’s been two years since the divorce, and lately, I’ve been seeing things differently. I divorced you from a place of pain and anger that did not include my true feelings for you.”
“I know that too. I always knew that. But it still didn’t change that you left. And now, I’m involved in something new.”
“You didn’t say someone new. What is it with her?”
“With Jessie it’s an all-encompassing everything.”
“I don’t understand. What are you involved in?”
&nb
sp; “She needs help. I mean serious, emotional, and mental help. Intensive. I have a plan in mind. I have a place lined up for her to go. The thing is, I need you to make sure the plan works, and then keep checking on her. The other thing is, I don’t know how to get her to agree to go.”
Gretchen’s face crumbled. “What did you get involved with? Why? Why are you getting so involved with such a troubled girl, who is pregnant by someone else?”
He sighed, leaning back as the waitress set their drinks before them, along with the nacho basket they agreed to share. He and Gretchen always moved in sync like that. He reached for a chip, took a bite, and a swig of his beer while deciding where to start.
“The first time I ever laid eyes on Jessie, I was crouched in the duct work of the building she was being held in. I crawled to a vent when I heard a woman’s voice. And then I saw her below me. She was tied up, her hands cuffed over her head and secured to some metal pipes running along the old building. Her legs were tied off with ropes, jerry-rigged to the floor to keep her legs spread wide. She was naked and crying. I watched her get raped. More than once. I sat in the duct work, staring at her, and eventually, I had to turn away. I couldn’t bear watching it. They tortured her for hours. Eventually, she was released, and made to walk back to this coffin-like cell where they kept her. They chained her to the wall, naked and freezing, and in complete darkness. I snuck into her cell and got her out as quickly as I could. But I was too late. Days too late. You have no idea what was done to her.”
Gretchen’s mouth fell open. “That’s what happened in Mexico? The same story that was featured across all the newspapers as your heroic rescue of the ‘just fine’ Jessie Bains?”
“Yeah. She didn’t tell anyone. Or go to the hospital. My first mistake. She deteriorated even further after we got back. She kept reaching out to me, although I don’t even think she meant to. It’s just that I knew. I knew what was wrong and that’s all she needed from me, my understanding what no one else did or wanted to.”
