by Leigh, T. K.
“So he’s dead?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s not. He was sent to prison, but he was released recently. After that night, Cam called my grams, who called the police about everything. We were sent to a home. They tried to split us up, but I would throw a fit whenever they took him from me. When I kept trying to hurt myself, the people running the home eventually caved in and let us stay together. Cam was the only one who could stop it. I guess he still is.”
“What do you mean, Marley? Do you still try to hurt yourself?”
“I haven’t in over a month. It takes my mind off everything, but since you told me that you’re in not love with me, the pain of my past isn’t as bad. I have a reason to keep breathing.”
“You’ve always had a reason to keep breathing, Marley Jane, even if I wasn’t in not love with you. You have people who love you…your aunt and uncle, and Cam. You must realize that.”
I shrugged. “I suppose. I guess sometimes I just want to turn it off and be at peace.”
“Do you really think that hurting yourself is the way to do that?”
“Sometimes I do. But I haven’t felt that way in a while because every time I do, I think of you. And I look down at my bracelet.” I glanced at my wrist. “And I feel your not love and I know that I have a reason to keep breathing. Doug, you’re my reason to keep breathing.” Tears began to stream down my face in response to my admission to him.
“Oh, Marley,” he exhaled, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I swear I will never hurt you. We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“Good.” I pulled out of his embrace, wiping my cheeks. “You better not look at me any differently now that you know the truth. I’m still the same Marley.”
“No, you’re not,” he said thoughtfully. “Now maybe you can be the real Marley around me a little bit more.”
“What do you mean? I am the real Marley around you.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“Okay. Maybe I haven’t been the most genuine version of myself.”
“Just stop pretending. I’m in not love with you more than you can possibly imagine, and that means all the parts of you.”
“Like what?” I gave him a sly smile.
“Well, for starters, I really like your lips. The words that leave them on a daily basis make me laugh and fall a little bit more in not love with you.”
I leaned in and gently brushed my lips with his. “What else?” I murmured against him.
“Your smile, regardless of the pain it tries to hide. And maybe that’s why I like it so much because, regardless of your past, you’ve found a reason to continue on and smile. I just hope that I never do anything to make that smile disappear. I fell in not love with that smile years ago, Marley Jane, and I never want to go a day without seeing it on your beautiful face.”
I crushed my mouth against him, running my hand through his hair, deepening the kiss. “What else?” I panted.
“Your heart, Marley Jane,” he said softly, his eyes intense. “It’s been broken and betrayed in the worst ways imaginable. But, against all odds, it found a reason to keep beating. It proved that it was capable to love and receive love in return.”
“Don’t you mean not love?” I interrupted.
He chuckled. “Of course. I stand corrected.”
It was silent while we sat in the tree house, the leaves rustling in a gentle breeze as his hand caressed my scarred back.
“You’re stronger than you think you are, Marley. Never forget that, okay?”
I simply nodded, wishing I could actually believe that his words were true.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BREAKABLE
THREE WEEKS HAVE PASSED since I told Doug the truth. Three weeks have passed that he’s treated me as if I’m about to break at any second. Three weeks have passed that I cringe when he looks at me. They always say that the truth will set you free. Not for me. The truth has erected bars around me. I walk through the halls of school, worried that people are talking behind my back. Granted, that could be because I ran through Doug’s house with my dress about to fall off after my “episode”, but I still can’t help but feel as if everyone is treating me differently…especially Doug. I hate that. I want it to stop.
I am so sick of being asked if I’m okay. Every time Doug sees me, those are the first words out of his mouth. It used to be Hey, beautiful girl or something like that. Now, it’s How are you, Marley? And not just a normal how are you. It’s a sympathetic, compassionate, “walk on eggshells because the crazy, molested bitch might crack and shoot all of us at any second” how are you.
The same was true today as I headed toward my second period Governments class. I considered spinning around and walking away when I saw Doug there. I couldn’t stand his kindness and empathy.
“Hey, Marley,” he said, his eyes scanning my body as if he was worried that I was about to pull out a gun and start shooting. “How are you?”
I huffed. “I’m fine, Doug.” I pushed past him. “I have to go or I’ll be late. Our class meets in the library on Fridays. I keep forgetting.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to. Your class is on the other side of the building.”
“I just want to make sure you get there safely.”
I faced him, my eyes on fire. “Stop it. You promised you weren’t going to do this.”
“Do what?” he asked, taken aback.
“This. What you’ve been doing all month! You’re treating me like I’m about to crack. I’m not delicate so stop treating me like this, Doug. I’m sick of it!”
I began to walk away and he reached out, grabbing my arm.
“Marley, I’m just worried about you…”
“Well, stop!” I hissed. “And get your fucking hand off me!”
He released his grasp, surprised at the tone of my voice. As I retreated from him, I felt a hint of guilt for behaving that way, but I brushed it off. I continued past the library, not caring about the potential ramifications of skipping class. I didn’t want to be around anyone. I just wanted to be alone.
I ran to the theater department and climbed the spiral stairs up to the catwalk, happy to have a moment of peace. But I still felt the hurt. It had been there since Halloween. Nothing was stopping it. Doug’s changed behavior was eating me up as the realization washed over me that he no longer looked at me with the adoration that was once in his eyes. Now there was a look of sorrow and condolence in his expression.
Rummaging through my bag as I sat on the catwalk, I found what I was looking for. Sliding my skirt up, I saw the red marking on my inner thigh. It had grown dull over the past few months, Doug’s not love having muted my need to release the anguish through that blade.
Grabbing the razor, I dug into my skin, the physical pain taking my mind off the horrors of my past. I traced over the word that I had cut into my thigh the night that I won the Junior Miss Myrtle Beach Pageant nearly two years ago…Ruined. The word was a reminder to me that no matter what I thought, my life was forever ruined.
Letting out a breath, I carved the word over and over again, each time drawing more and more blood, my inner demons releasing through the act. Finally feeling sated, I placed the razor back in its hiding spot and grabbed a few bandages, covering up my blood-stained thigh.
A loud door closing startled me and I quickly readjusted my skirt and hid the bandages in my bag. Looking up, I saw Brianna in the doorway, her hair disheveled and a look of complete fear and panic on her face. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to readjust her demeanor, running her hands through her hair to fix it.
“Hi, Marley.”
“Hey, Bri. Rough morning?”
She laughed slightly and rolled her eyes. “Rough couple of years is more like it.” She made her way toward me and sat down. “How about you?”
I shrugged. “Rough few weeks, I guess. I feel better now, though.”
I hesitated. No one knew about my cutting, other than my aunt and only because of the pageants. Of course, she told no one about it and pretended it didn’t happen. I insinuated something to this effect when I told Doug about my past, but I didn’t go into any details. I was pretty sure he would be horrified if he knew the extent of my need to self-mutilate. This was the one thing I had that no one knew about. This was the one thing I had that was all mine. And I hated the thought of Brianna hurting herself thinking that it would help. I knew it was destructive. I knew it was abnormal. But, at the same time, it was liberating when I felt the blade dig into my skin and release all the anguish that had built up since the last time I cut. It was the only thing that could release the hurt and trauma.
“Nothing, Bri,” I replied. “Sometimes having a minute alone to forget is the best medicine.”
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked, about to get up.
“No. We can be alone together. I don’t mind.”
She nodded and stared straight ahead. It was silent for a brief moment before she spoke again.
“Doug’s acting differently toward you, isn’t he? I noticed it during lunch the past few weeks. He used to have this heat in his eyes like he was ready to just attack you… In a good way, of course.”
I giggled. It felt good to talk to Brianna about it. “Yeah. Now it’s like he’s walking on glass around me. I hate it. I’m the same exact Marley I was before I told him, but he’s not the same Doug.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ANSWERS
“AUNT TERRYN! I’M HOME!” I called out, walking into the foyer of our house after getting home from school.
Looking around, I wondered where everyone was. “Uncle Graham?” I continued past the living room and kitchen, and into the back hallway, pausing outside a closed wooden door. Knocking softly, I listened for any movement.
My heart racing at the thought of getting caught, I carefully opened the door to my uncle’s office. I strode to his desk, taking out a paperclip and picking the lock of the drawer. When I promised Marley that I would see if I could find out where Buck lived, I was thankful when she never brought up the subject again. Over the past few months, I had tried to brush off my own anxiety about the situation, but nothing worked. I needed to know.
Flipping through file after file, I became despondent when all I ran across were folders full of bills, report cards, and community service programs my uncle’s church sponsored. Just when I was about to give up, I stumbled across a folder marked with a set of digits, almost like a case number.
Opening it, the contents made me sick to my stomach…photos of Marley’s beaten body, transcripts of her sealed testimony during the trial, reports of previous accounts of Buck’s abuse. I almost put it all back, not wanting to look at any more reminders of the past that still tormented Marley. Then, my eyes settled on a Notice of Release, accompanied by what appeared to be correspondence between Buck and my uncle.
“What the…?” I seethed with anger at the thought that he had been writing to Buck while he was in prison. Furious, I continued snooping through the file, my blood boiling as I scanned the transcript of Buck’s parole hearing to see that my uncle testified on his behalf, saying that he had found God, had repented for his sins, and was no longer a danger to society. Because of my uncle, Marley’s abuser and tormentor was now free. Turning back to the Notice of Release, I jotted down the address on a piece of spare paper, quickly locked the desk, and ran out of his office and up to my room.
I didn’t think that I could ever look at my uncle the same way again. I understood that he divined strength and power from God and his church, but I couldn’t comprehend how any man, no matter whether a man of the cloth or not, could forgive his own niece’s abuser and encourage the state to release him, then try to cover it up. I knew instantly what I had to do. I had to go check on Buck for myself.
Looking at the address I had scribbled on a piece of paper, I pulled out a local map, surprised again that he lived no more than thirty minutes away from us. As I hastily highlighted the route, I heard the front door open, followed by Marley’s heavy footsteps running up the stairs.
Tossing a few items into my backpack, I knew I needed to come up with some excuse for leaving the house.
“Hi, Cam,” Marley said, throwing the door to my room open and plopping down on my bed. “Working tonight?”
“No. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were you at lunch today?” I asked, trying to hide my nerves. “Doug was worried.”
“He should be,” she spat.
“What’s going on with you guys?” I eyed her with a concerned look.
“Don’t worry about it, Cam. It’s nothing. I’m just a little anxious about the Thanksgiving Day parade. That’s all.”
“It’ll be fine, Mar.” It was silent and I could tell that there was something else on her mind. “Spill it.”
“Did you see the feature on the Jessamine Pageant in the paper?” Her voice was quiet and edgy.
“Yeah? What about it?”
“Just…what if Buck saw it and is able to find out where I live because of it? What if he’s…?”
“Marley, you need to stop dwelling on this. I’m starting to see why Uncle Graham and Aunt Terryn didn’t want you to know.”
“What?!” she exclaimed before lowering her voice. “How could you side with them, Cam? How could you even say that I shouldn’t know he’s out there roaming the streets, possibly victimizing another girl like he did…?”
“Marley, you need to have faith in the justice system. He must have been granted parole for a reason,” I said, unable to even believe the words coming out of my mouth. “Perhaps he truly did see the error of his ways and was able to get the help he needed when he was locked up.”
“Do you think he did?”
I shrugged. “I have to. It’s the only way I can refrain from hunting him down and finishing the job that I started six years ago.” Our eyes met and I hoped that she couldn’t see the truth behind my lies. “I have to go, Mar.”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t have to work.”
“I don’t. I have plans.”
“With Brianna?” she asked in a flirtatious manner.
“No. With a few of the guys. It’s a school thing. Brianna’s working tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re a horrible liar. You expect me to believe that you’re working on school stuff on a Friday night?”
“I’m not you, Marley. I don’t mind doing homework on Friday.”
She shook her head and raised herself off my bed. “Okay. Whatever, Cam. Have fun studying on a Friday night, loser.”
I chuckled, inwardly hoping she wouldn’t see through my deception.
Grabbing my backpack, I headed out of the house and jumped in my Wrangler. I took out the map and scanned the route I had highlighted. I felt awful for keeping this from Marley, but she needed to continue moving forward instead of dwelling on her past. Still, I needed peace of mind. Cranking the engine, I drove away from the beach and inland to Conway.
As I sat on Buck’s street, my eyes trained down the road at his two-story house in a very middle-class section of town, I absently wondered where he worked and whether he lived with anyone. I hoped that he was living with his parents, a pathetic excuse for an existence at the age of forty-six, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get my wish.
Hours passed and I remained there, unable to leave. I was desperate for answers. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was nearly eleven o’clock. Marley would be home from work and would be wondering where I was. Just as I was about to give up for the night, a car drove past me and pulled into the driveway of Buck’s house. Fishing the binoculars out of my bag, I looked through them, spotting the man that ruined my sister.
&
nbsp; He ran around the car and opened the passenger door, helping a woman to her feet before planting a sensual kiss on her lips. It was the same woman we saw with Buck in Charleston two months ago. They walked to the front of the house and she grabbed a set of keys from her purse, unlocking the door as if she lived there, too.
Marley couldn’t know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
INNOCENCE
TODAY WAS THE DREADFUL Thanksgiving Day parade here in our sleepy little beach community. I remember moving here and being so excited about watching the parade. Everything back then was exciting…even the “Little Miss” pageants my aunt entered me in. The parents would “ooh” and “ah” over how adorable we all looked with our fluffy pink dresses, hair in curls, makeup on, making us appear more mature than we were. They would laugh as we walked down the stage with all the attitude we could muster, posing in front of the judges like we had been trained. They would cheer when we won. That first pageant when I was named the winner and the spotlight was on me, I was so excited…especially when I saw the proud look on my aunt’s face.
A few years ago, the innocence of it all changed. We were stuffing the chests of our dresses, wearing high heels, and posing in a provocative manner. Most girls had no problem with it. If I didn’t endure what I had at an early age, I probably would have enjoyed these pageants, too. Most of them do offer us girls a chance to do something constructive. I love dancing. I love singing. I love the community service that is attached to the pageants. But I don’t love people judging my body. I feel objectified, but I don’t have a choice. Sex sells. Sex wins. Those were my aunt’s exact words when I questioned why I had to wear a bikini during the swimsuit portion, and why I had to wear a gown with a slit in the side that went from Florida to Maine. And she didn’t even blink twice when she said it.
Sex may sell and sex may win, but sex destroyed me.
And it still destroys me. Every day when I look at Doug, I see his hesitation around me. I can only take so much more of it before I crack. I’m at my breaking point. Cutting has helped. Of course, carving Ruined over and over again wasn’t enough. I needed fresh blood. I now sport a nice new “tattoo” on the inner thigh of my other leg. I tried to stop, but I just couldn’t. The demons inside me were shouting and the only thing that could quiet the voices and dull the pain was more cutting.
