Tortured Teardrops (Tamara's Teardrops Book 3)

by P. D. Workman

  “Unfortunately, I can.”

  Suddenly, she understood. “Don’t tell me he gave me something!”

  He nodded gently.

  “Is it mono? I’ve been so tired.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  The room spun around her and Tamara felt like she was going to throw up. “I couldn’t be pregnant! He said I couldn’t get pregnant.”

  “A boy will tell you whatever he thinks he has to.”

  Tamara wrapped her arms around her belly, the tears starting, her throat closing up.

  “No, no, no. I can’t be pregnant. It could be a mistake, couldn’t it? Those tests aren’t always right.”

  “It’s not a mistake. I’m sorry.”

  Tamara sobbed, feeling the last vestiges of control slip away from her. Rivers of tears ran down her face. She had done what she had to to get away from the Bakers, to be free to live her own life instead of being a slave, and she was going to again be responsible for another life, another baby.

  “Here, none of that,” Eastport comforted. “Take a deep breath and settle down. It’s not as bad as all of that.”

  “I can’t be pregnant! I don’t want a baby! I can’t do this!”

  “No, it’s okay. We’ll take care of it.”

  Tamara felt a scream rising from inside her. Her speech dissolved into unintelligible crying. She started to shake violently and she could no longer understand what the doctor was trying to say to her. It was as if he were talking to her from somewhere else. She just put her hands over her face and screamed and screamed. Eastport eventually gave her an injection that made the whole nightmare dissolve into oblivion.

  “French. French!”

  Tamara focused on the voice and was dragged back to the present. Her intake had been three years ago. It was in the past. Long since taken care of. Gomez clutched her shoulder, shaking her and trying to snap her out of the flashback.

  “What’s the matter with you? Get a grip on yourself!”

  Tamara wiped tears from her face. She rubbed her aching head and scrubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the present and find a way to explain it away to Gomez.

  Dr. Eastport hurried back into Tamara’s curtained cubicle, brows down, concern written all over his face. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  Gomez dropped his hold on Tamara’s shoulder. “Hell if I know. She was just sitting here and started bawling. Wouldn’t answer me.” He stared into Tamara’s face. “Seems to be back know. You think it was some kind of seizure?”

  Dr. Eastport took Tamara’s pulse, smiling reassuringly. “Hey, there. You okay?”

  Tamara nodded. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No. I’m okay. It was just… nothing.”

  Dr. Eastport looked at Gomez. “You want to give us a minute?”

  Gomez’s eyes narrowed, not liking it. “I need to keep an eye on her.”

  “Go keep an eye on one of the others for a minute. Tamara’s not going to go leaping up and getting into mischief, are you?”

  Tamara shook her head. “I’ll stay here,” she promised. “I won’t move.”

  Gomez reluctantly moved away from the end of Tamara’s bed and went out of sight to check on the others. Tamara knew that the curtains only provided the illusion of privacy. The other girls and Gomez would still be able to hear what she said to the doctor.

  He pulled the blood pressure cuff from its cage on the wall and put it around Tamara’s arm. He pumped the bulb.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

  “No… just… I don’t know. I’m fine.”

  He put the stethoscope into his ears and released the valve on the cuff, listening. “Your pulse and blood pressure are very high. I’d expect them to be down, now that you’re away from the fight. You were calmer a few minutes ago. Now you’re wound up again. What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Tamara wasn’t about to confess to having flashbacks. She needed a reputation for being tough, not crazy. “Maybe like Gomez said, a seizure.”

  He shone a penlight into her eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Did he do something to you? Hurt you or touch you?”

  Tamara looked in the direction that Gomez had gone. Dr. Eastport raised his hands in a questioning shrug, indicating she could answer the question nonverbally. Tamara shook her head. “No. He didn’t do anything. He’s never done anything.”

  Dr. Eastport gazed at her steadily, waiting for further confirmation. She again shook her head. No.

  He took her pulse again and nodded. “You need something to relax you? Having anxiety?”

  “I don’t take meds. I don’t need anything.”

  “There’s no shame in taking appropriate medication. Nothing wrong with getting help when you need it.”

  “No. Don’t want anything.”

  “I’m keeping you here until I’m sure that you’re stable,” he warned.

  Tamara rolled her eyes, but the only one who could see the gesture was Dr. Eastport. He patted her shoulder, smiling.

  “Have a rest. You’re going to be here a while.”

  Tamara sighed and closed her eyes. She was tired, still feeling like she hadn’t had enough sleep. She might as well get what sleep she could, given the opportunity.

  2

  SHE WAS BACK out of the infirmary a couple of hours later, Dr. Eastport unable to find any other reason to keep her there. It was Millican who escorted her back to the main wing. He walked briskly beside her, saying nothing to start with. As they got closer, Tamara’s gut started to twist and clench. What had she been thinking, getting physical with Lewis instead of looking for a way to get out of the line of fire?

  She had taken Lewis to the floor, which was an accomplishment, but Lewis was not going to let it go. She was going to be pissed. Instead of staying neutral, Tamara was now an enemy. She couldn’t fight the entire gang.

  Millican noticed Tamara starting to lag behind, looking back at her. He slowed his pace.

  “Come on.” His tone wasn’t irritated. Maybe he sensed her anxiety.

  “Where are they all?” Tamara asked. “Lewis and the others. Who’s in isolation?”

  “Pretty much all of them are either in iso or their cells, separated. Let everybody cool down.”

  “They’re on restrictions?”

  “We’re taking care of it. You’re going back to your cell too. Don’t need you making more trouble.”

  “Oh.” Tamara nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm her anxiety. She didn’t have to face the Sharks. Not yet. Maybe it would all blow over if it were a day or two before Lewis could talk to her soldiers. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. “Okay.”

  “You’ve never been one to make waves,” Millican said. “I don’t know what’s been going on with you since before the prison break. If you want to get another crack at parole, you’d better tone it down.”

  Tamara bit her lip. He was right; she had been angry ever since she had discovered the Bakers hadn’t had to serve any time for what they had done to her. But what she’d been feeling since her return to juvie was different. Not just anger at the Bakers, though it still ground at her that Mrs. Baker was free to do whatever she liked. At least Mr. Baker was in prison pending his trial. It was a start. She couldn’t attach her new anger to any event or trigger. It just came out of nowhere.

  Millican frowned at her. “Well…?”

  “Yeah. I’ll try.”

  “Try? You know how to behave. You’ve done this before. Just get your head on straight and quit stirring up trouble.”

  “Yessir.”

  He looked like he had more of a lecture to give her, but agreeing with him took the wind out of his sails. He gave a nod and continued on. Tamara kept pace with him again. There was nothing to worry about. Not until Lewis and the Sharks were out again.

  She spent the rest of her time in her cell sleeping. She felt like she could sleep forever and still
not get enough. Twice, guards brought her meals and Tamara roused herself enough to eat sufficient food that they wouldn’t report her back to Dr. Eastport or Dr. Sutherland. Then she curled up on her bunk and fell back asleep.

  She didn’t lie awake at night after having slept most of the day. The lights went down and she fell into a deep sleep.

  But she didn’t sleep through the next morning’s reveille bell. She woke up abruptly before first light, her heart pounding in her chest. She lay there for a moment, frozen on her bunk, sure that some sound had awakened her.

  Tamara turned over and looked swiftly around her cell. She didn’t have a cellmate, there was no one else in the cell to make noise. She looked at the door. A guard entering when he wasn’t supposed to? A noise in the hallway that was out of place? She slipped out of her bunk and turned quickly to reassure herself there wasn’t anyone in the cell with her, even checking under the lower bunk.

  She looked at the closed cell door, watching the doorknob to see if it was turning. It was still. Tamara took a couple of steps over to it and twisted to see if it were unlocked. It was still locked as it should be. So what had wakened her?

  Tamara peered out the observation window into the hallway. There was no one there. She strained to look as far as she could in either direction, but couldn’t see so much as a guard on patrol. No sign of what had awakened her.

  She started to pace. She knew she should try to go back to sleep, but she couldn’t settle down, so she paced back and forth across the cell. Just a few steps one direction, pivot, and a few steps the other way. Her skin was crawling. She didn’t know if they would let her off restrictions, or if they would keep her in her cell another day. If they let her out, would they also let Lewis and the Sharks out?

  Tamara bit her nails. She didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of the fight with Lewis. Dissing her in front of her gang had been a terrible move. And she hadn’t just dumped Lewis’s breakfast, but the breakfasts of all the Sharks sitting at the long table.

  Tamara clenched her fists and dug her fingernails into her palms. Anger welled up in her again, obliterating the anxiety. Lewis had been picking a fight. She knew very well that Tamara was only sitting there because Millican had forced her to. So why not take it up with Millican instead of Tamara? She’d just been looking for an easy target, but she’d found that Tamara was not as defenseless as she looked.

  Tamara swore to herself and continued to pace.

  One of the most difficult things about juvie was filling the time. Learning to do nothing and just let time pass. Following the imposed schedule when you had to and just sitting around the rest of the time.

  Finally, the reveille bell sounded. Tamara washed her face and combed her hair, putting it back into a ponytail. It was strange seeing her hair dark, when normally it was almost white. Just one more thing that was wrong and disorienting. Was it possible that she had changed herself so much that she wasn’t even the same person anymore?

  As soon as the doors unlocked, Tamara grasped the handle and pushed her door open violently. She was sick of being cooped up in the room. She needed to be out. She needed air. Space.

  Kirk was in the hallway walking toward her. He raised his eyebrows. “You out already? No missing reveille today!”

  “No. Been awake for hours.”

  “You may as well hit the showers before it gets busy.”

  “I’m going outside.”

  Kirk squinted at her. “What?”

  “I’m going out. To the yard. I need some air.”

  “You can’t go to the yard right now.”

  Tamara marched toward it anyway. Who was he to tell her she couldn’t go out to the yard if she wanted to?

  “French. You can’t go out to the yard.”

  “I can go if I want to,” Tamara insisted. “I’m not on restrictions.”

  She walked past him, ignoring his protests. The halls were quiet. None of the other juvies were out of their cells yet. She walked past a couple of other guards who looked at her with puzzled expressions, but none of them stopped her. As she had told Kirk, she wasn’t on restricted movements.

  She found herself not in the little courtyard, but in front of the library doors. Why had she gone there? She didn’t have any desire to go to the library. She’d read every book she was interested in. Some of them several times over. She wasn’t going to go on the computers and find out more about Denny and Christina Baker. She didn’t want to know that the police case against them had fallen apart and they had, once again, been released into the public.

  Tamara tried to push open the door to the library, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was dark inside. Where was Mrs. Ruth? Had they fired her and closed the library? They were always complaining about budget cuts, saying that they couldn’t afford to run programs anymore. Had they decided the books or the computers weren’t being well enough utilized? The ancient computers were slow and cranky, but they did afford one small window to see what was going on in the real world.

  She kicked at the door and slammed her hip against it, trying to force it open. They couldn’t shut it down. If they were going to cut a program, it should be one of the arts and crafts program, making ugly clay ashtrays or kindergarten-like drawings, not the library program. Didn’t they know how important literacy skills were?

  Tamara tried to twist the handle and push open the door again, fury building. Glock had always told her only sissies went to the library and Tamara couldn’t afford to be seen as weak by the other girls. But Tamara liked Mrs. Ruth and liked to be able to escape into a book now and then, even if it were one that she’d already read three times.

  “French!”

  Tamara’s head whipped around and she spotted Millican walking toward her. She banged into the door once more, as if the third time she was going to be able to force the heavy door open.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Millican demanded.

  “I wanted to go to the library,” Tamara growled. “Who shut down the library?”

  “Nobody shut down the library. It’s not open until free time. Or if one of your classes goes there. What’s going on with you?”

  Tamara turned to face him fully. Millican stood facing her with one hand on his taser.

  “I just want to get a book. Or get onto the computer.” Tamara tried to remember why she had gone there in the first place. Had it been to look up the Bakers on the computer? She hoped they stayed locked up the rest of their lives, the sadistic perverts.

  “French, stand down. Chill. You can get a book later. When Mrs. Ruth is here. What are you so wound up about?”

  “She should be here now! Why isn’t it open?” Tamara kicked backward against the door behind her. “You could use your code to get in. Open it up for me. Just for a minute.”

  “I said stand down.”

  Tamara realized that her fists were clenched, held up high to defend herself. The world turned suddenly around her and she had a sense of vertigo. What was she even doing there? She knew the library wasn’t open first thing in the morning, during breakfast and showers. Why had she expected to find Mrs. Ruth there?

  She forced herself to unclench her fists and she put her hands out to steady herself, not sure she was going to be able to stay on her feet.

  Millican eyed her, moving his hand away from the taser. “That’s right,” his voice was pitched low and soothing, like she was a spooked horse. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Kirk said you were insisting you were going out to the yard, and then I find you trying to break down the library door. What’s up?”

  The yard. That’s where Tamara had been trying to go. Not to the library. She didn’t want to go to the library. How had she ended up going the opposite direction?

  “Did you move it?” Tamara asked, looking at the library door. It was the library, wasn’t it? They could have moved it to another section. Sometimes the administration did things like that for no discernible reason. Decided that the English room was more suited
to be a crafts room. That the enrichment programs should be in a different wing, nearer the isolation unit. There was no explaining their logic.

  “They didn’t move the library.”

  “But I wanted to go to the yard. Why isn’t it here?”

  “This isn’t the yard. Neither one is open right now,” Millican’s soothing voice was taking on an irritated edge. “You need to hit the showers and change into your days. Then breakfast. You can get some yard time later on, during free time.”

  Tamara looked down at herself, realizing that she was still in her pinks. The yard wasn’t open until later. Neither was the library. She put her hands on the door behind her, trying to steady herself.

  “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

  “You been sniffing or what? What’s wrong with you?” Millican grabbed Tamara’s arm, startling her. She tried to jerk out of his grip, but he held on to her.

  Tamara closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the fog of confusion and vertigo would lift. It didn’t work. She opened her eyes again and blinked at Millican. “I’m… maybe I was sleepwalking,” she suggested. “I just… didn’t know where I was going or what time it was. I was having a dream.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m okay now.”

  Millican slowly let go of her. Tamara pulled back and rubbed where his fingers had been.

  “Back to your room or to the showers,” Millican said. “You get yourself changed and ready for breakfast. Understand? Or I’m going to put you on restrictions.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” Tamara nodded. “Yes, sir.” She clenched her teeth shut, keeping herself from apologizing to him. When she’d had a shower, she’d be fully awake and feel better. It would wash the confusion away.

  Tamara looked up and down the halls to get her bearings and managed to choose the correct route back to her unit and the shower room. There were a few tired voices, there before the main crowd made it in. Getting into the showers early was best. Not that there was any hot water, but a person at least stood a chance of avoiding harassment by any of the other inmates.

  She entered and, without looking at anyone else, stripped off her pinks and stepped into a shower stall. The blast of cold water was enough to wake up anyone. Tamara breathed in quickly and held her breath, standing still for a moment and hoping against hope that the water would either warm up or her body would get used to it.