Broken Pieces (Broken Series)

by B. E. Laine

  “Yup,” is all he says?

  Then there is an uncomfortable silence that has never been there before with us. I wonder if something is going on with him that he isn’t telling me. I hope that he would know I would be here for him like he was for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on.

  “Are you still with him?” he asks, sounding annoyed. Where did that come from? Talk about random, and I do not know why he asked like that.

  “Yes, we are. Is something wrong?” I say.

  He shoots me a look that says I should know, but I am confused by his actions. “No, I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week,” he states, even though it doesn’t explain why he asked that questions or why he asked that question. I decide to let it go, as I take a sip of my coffee.

  “So how’s life?” he asks blandly like he doesn’t really want to know.

  I simply state, “Good. Classes are a breeze and my internship is going great.”

  “That’s great,” he mumbles, then his friend calls to him to say his coffee is ready. He says he has to go to band practice and that he will call me. I don’t plan on waiting on that phone call, considering how he was acting, but I just hope that he knows I’m here.

  Well, that was a short, but not-so-sweet reunion. I don’t have much time to ponder on Kace’s actions because I am going to be late for work if I do not get my ass in gear. I make a mental note to call him later, though.

  I make it to work in the nick of time, thanking God that traffic was light. It looks as though a storm might come up, as I make my way inside the building. I don’t put much thought into it because it is Oklahoma.

  I smile and make small talk about the weather with Asha as I walk through the door. We really have hit it off these past few weeks and I could see us becoming good friends, if we hung out more. She really seems down to earth; everyone here has been so welcoming.

  I sit at my small desk, getting everything ready for the day, when Paula knocks on the open door. “Hey, I was wondering if you would like to assist me with a client today. All you have to do is sit in, and then we will talk about it afterward?”

  I am beyond excited. “Yes! Thank-you!” Okay, maybe that came out a little more enthusiastic than it should have, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel it any less.

  At least I have a couple hours to compose myself before the appointment. I know my nerves will still get the better of me, but I have to remind myself that I can do it. This is what I chose as my career. There is no backing out now.

  The two hours went by quickly, as I silently give myself a pep talk. I walk out of my office, down the hall, and to the waiting room. There are a few kids waiting so I look down at my chart to see who I am looking for. “Breann Turner?” I call out, only to see the last person I expected to stand up.

  This girl looked like the epitome of a popular cheerleader, and I wonder what could bring her here. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she is beautiful. I guess I should keep my judgmental thoughts to myself. Everyone has their own story, including me.

  When we are settled in Paula’s office, she begins to ask Breann typical questions: “How have things been?”, “Anything new going on?” … etc. It’s only when Paula brings up the subject of her ex-boyfriend that Breann’s posture completely changes, and it captures my full attention. I sat in awe at what I was hearing. It was eerily familiar. The rest of the appointment went by quickly. As Paula showed Breann out, I tried to gain my composure before she made it back.

  It was like I was listening to exactly what happened to me, with a slightly different analogy. My first sit-in with a client and that is what happens? What am I thinking going into this field? One hour is all it took to get me second-guessing what I have been working towards for almost four years! How in the world did I ever think that I could choose this field after what happened to me? I can’t sit there and listen to someone else’s horror when it is so close to my own. Now I’m questioning my choices with my life. I want to be the best at the career I choose. I am not so sure I can be my best at this.

  I didn’t realize I was frozen to my chair until Paula came back into the room. I immediately go to retreat to my office when she tells me to have a seat. Oh, yeah, how could I forget? We’re going to talk about how the session went. I wonder if I will be able to answer her questions because I feel like I blacked out for most of the hour.

  She starts off by saying, “She has been through so much in her short sixteen years, huh?”

  “Um, yes,” I stumble to say.

  “What would you say would be the main goal to acquire in her sessions with that situation?” she asks professionally.

  I have studied this for years. I used some of the information I was studying to help myself during my own hardships. I know this by heart. “You would need to objectify her; repetition. Ask her the same questions over and over. The more retelling of the story, the less traumatic the details will seem to the brain. The cognitive in this type of intervention is a way of saying imagined, or visualized, in the brain,” I reply, remembering what I had read over and over.

  “Yes, that is correct,” she says, as if she already knew what I was going to say. “What do you think will happen if she were to keep it bottled up and refused to talk about it?”

  “She would not be able to acknowledge her own feelings of hurt and anger toward her assailant; therefore, she would eventually turn to feeling guilty,” I say, in a monotone.

  “Absolutely. So … why don’t you start talking? My next hour is free.” She leans back in her chair, getting comfortable. That pulls me out of my trance, throwing my head up to look at her with wide eyes. She continues, “I have been doing this for years, Kara. I can tell. Mr. Mackey had his suspicions also, but thought that you had moved past it. After seeing your reaction when Breann was retelling her story, I can tell that you have yet to push past that part of your life.”

  I am sitting there, stunned. Is this even professional? Should I open up and tell her? She plainly knows. If she didn’t, my facial expression right now is a dead giveaway. Oh, I hope this does not mess with my internship. I don’t know what I will do without it. Shit! Why couldn’t I compose myself better than this? I know I told Drew, what happened, but I thought I would never see him again. Although that played in my favor, I don’t think that telling my secrets to my boss will help my career. Also, Drew is the only person that believed me. Aaron told me I was a liar, and I never bothered telling anyone else.

  “Um, I don’t think … am I going to lose my internship?” I ask, as I watch everything I have worked for slip through my fingers.

  “Oh, no! It is not that I think everyone that has been through a traumatic episode in their life chooses this career choice, but I do think that the ones that have been through those horrific times make a better therapist in the long run.”

  “Oh … okay. Um, I did have a similar thing happen to me when I was in high school. On my seventeenth birthday, actually …”

  I talked the entire hour. I told her more gruesome details than I told Drew. At first, it felt weird because I looked to her as my boss and the ticket to launching my career, but she really cares. I went through each and every horrible detail, and then she suggested that I go home and write it in a journal. She also said not to shy away from expressing my feelings in my relationship with Drew. Also, if I ever get that urge to talk about it or if anything triggers one of my “episodes”, I can always call her and that if Drew is as amazing as he sounds, he would listen at any time. We chatted about life in general, then her last appointment came in for the day and I got back to my work.

  It felt good to tell someone else. I had thought that I had dealt with it in my own way, but talking about it really does help the brain come to some sort of closure. I now know that I am not completely over it. I always thought that, with time and when I had other things going on in my life, I would eventually forget about it. That is far from the truth or I wouldn’t have had my freak out with
Drew, or would I have been frozen that entire hour when I was supposed be working. I feel a little lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulder.

  The last hour went by in a flash, and I practically skip to my car. I’m so excited to get to Drew. Not even the dark clouds and cold rain can dampen my mood. My enthusiasm quickly comes to a halt when I try to start my car and get nothing. Seriously? I drop my forehead against the steering wheel. Ow, that will leave a bruise. I rub my forehead, but then it hits me that I have someone to call. I am not used to having people I can rely on.

  I try Lauren first because I do not want to call Drew while he is at work, but I forgot that she went away with her dad for the weekend. So I call Drew and, of course, he says he will be here as soon as he can; he has to finish up with a client.

  I pull my mirror down to try and fix the mess on top of my head. I had finally given up when someone knocked on my window, making me jump. Assuming it was Drew, not thinking that it has not even been five minutes yet, I hop out of my car. I notice that the rain had let up to a drizzle, then I look up and see Collin.

  Shit! Just play it cool. Yeah, I would play it cool if everyone else hadn’t already left for the day. Deep breath. “Hey,” I say. I felt that if I didn’t say something, he was going to completely undress me with his eyes. Ugh!

  “What are you still doing here?” he finally replies with an unusual tone.

  “Car troubles,” I state.

  “Oh, do you need a ride home?” he asks, more hopeful than he should be.

  “Um, no, my boyfriend is coming to pick me up … should be here any minute,” I say, looking around and silently praying that he does arrive soon because Collin gives me the creeps!

  “Well, I’ll wait with you. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be standing out here all alone.” He’s laying it on thick, with a dash of sleazy.

  I know his daddy is all high and mighty, owning the building and all, but that still doesn’t mean I have to put up with his vulgar son. He has a sleazy smile, preppy wardrobe, and spiked blonde hair.

  “Oh, it’s fine, really. I will be okay. Thanks, though.”

  He obviously is not taking the hint because he takes that time to lean on my car beside me and run his slimy fingers down my arm, making me gag. Don’t get me wrong. I guess he’s cute and has money, but he is definitely not my type. The stench of his abundance of cologne makes me cough. Okay, think, Kara. As long as I stay calm, I have control of the situation. In other words … don’t freak out!

  I make a move to back away from him when it starts raining harder. I really want to scream. “Thanks, really, but I’m just going to wait in my car!”

  I open my door and start to get in when I feel the weight of him pushing me, smashing my ribs with the center console. He leans all of his weight on my back, bashing my ribs ruthlessly. It all comes back in a flash like lighting … “SHUT UP … Stupid bitch!” … the rocks digging in my back … the headlights in my eyes … him slamming into me over and over again. The memories feel so real that I barely notice the weight of him being lifted off of me. I curl into a ball, cradling my aching ribs, and start sobbing. I’m wishing all the pain from the past and present would go away when I feel strong arms encircle me. I gasp in horror before I’m engulfed with that scent. His scent. I instantly relax inside while molding to him, but my body is shuddering from crying.

  I hardly notice when he picks me up, murmuring in my ear, “Shh, baby, it’s okay, I have you now. You’re safe. Shh, baby …” He continues to repeat himself, as he opens the passenger door to his car and sets me down. He shuts the door and, against my better judgment, I raise my head and glance out the window, only to see Collin on the ground with blood everywhere. Drew is standing over him, then leans down close to his ear. Just the look on Drew’s face makes me shudder. I hope I never have to see that face again. As the last thought runs through my mind, he looks up, locking eyes with me and his expression instantly changes. He turns his face, quickly finishes what he was saying to Collin, and rises. He retrieves my belongings out of my car, gets into his, and stays deadly silent, as do I.

  After what seems like forever, he finally says, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just needed a minute to calm down. I didn’t want to drive irate with you in here.”

  I nod and look down, which makes him blow out a breath with a growl. By now, I know that he is pissed because he thinks I’m scared of him. Maybe, right now, I am, but I think I have a reason to be. Even though I didn’t see it, I still know what he did to Collin, and it frightens me what he is capable of. I know he would never hurt me, though.

  The thought of Collin makes me glance out the window. He’s still lying on the ground in the pouring rain, bleeding. For a second, I feel bad and want to go help him, but I put that out of my mind. It’s not only because of Drew, but I think about what just happened. I instantly feel nauseous and barely get the door open before I vomit.

  Drew went from panicked to understanding in a nanosecond, reaching over to get the hair out of my face. When I think I’m finished, I slowly sit up, shut the door, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Then I start wringing my hands together, as the realization just came into play. Collin tried to force himself on me, the son of owner of the building I work in! Then I assume Drew beat the shit out of him, and now he is just lying there in the rain. The cops will be here any second, I know it.

  He leans over, placing his hand firmly on both of mine, and kisses me on the side of the head as he says. “Let’s go home, baby.”

  “But, um … what about …” I gesture out the window. “Won’t the cops be here any second? They will probably arrest you but, if I tell them it was self-defense, hopefully they won’t keep you. Oh gosh, I don’t want you to leave me …”

  He interrupts my nervous blubbering with his calm voice. “Shh, it will be okay. I took care of it. He won’t hurt you ever again, I promise. The cops will not be involved, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere, sweetie.”

  “He will press charges, his dad owns this building. I’m going to lose my internship!” I continue, frantically.

  “Not after what I told him will he press charges, and I have a good feeling your job will be waiting on you Monday,” he says, confidently.

  “But, how can you be so sure?” I counter.

  He smiles and begins to back out of the parking lot. “Considering what I told him, I believe he is a smart enough man to take the easy way out.”

  “Okay,” I say, unsure.

  “Don’t worry about anything, okay?” he replies, as he precisely maneuvers his car through traffic.

  I sigh, leaning back in the seat and feeling a wave of exhaustion take over my body. As much as I try to fight it, I fall asleep. Almost immediately, it seems, I feel Drew picking me up. I wince as his hand comes into contact with my bruised ribs. He instantly sets me back down and I hear him mumble expletives.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

  How could he ever feel as if this was his fault? “I’m okay. Please don’t be sorry, baby. You didn’t do anything,” I pleaded with him.

  He closes his eyes, falls to his knees, hanging his head in defeat. I react right away and grab his head, kissing all over and softly saying, “Hey, it’s okay. You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry.”

  Suddenly, he jerks his head up and frames my face with his strong hands. I melt at the warmth … until I hear his tone. “Don’t be sorry! And do not comfort me! That’s what I am supposed to be doing, and I’m doing a shitty job of it!”

  “Hey, don’t be like that! You are doing an excellent job!” I say with all the energy I have left in me. I will not have him putting himself down for something that happened to me. “Let’s go to bed.”

  As he is gathering my things, I manage to stand up through the excruciating pain that’s shooting in my side, and I tough it out all the way up his moronic stairs. He tells me to lie on the couch while he tries to muster up something for us to eat. I feel nowhere c
lose to being hungry, but I am not going to telling him that. I let him work his magic in the kitchen. I know it makes him feel better if he feels like he’s doing something.

  He brings me a pain pill with my dinner and I gratefully accept it. I try to eat as much as I can, or at least push it around my plate so that it looks like I ate, so I can appease him a little. When I’m done, he talks me into taking a hot shower. I know it will help, but I don’t know if I can stand the entire time.

  He helps me to the bathroom and follows me in, shutting the door behind him. I give him a questioningly look, but he gives me a stern don’t even think about it look. I roll my eyes at his attentiveness. I am not helpless. I don’t dare say that to him, though.

  He starts unbuttoning my blouse, keeping his eyes glued to mine the whole time. His stare makes something as innocent as him helping me get ready for a shower a sensual experience. He pushes the blouse off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. When he freezes and sucks in air, I look down. Bruises are starting to outline my dainty ribs. He drops to his knees and begins to faintly touch and plant soft kisses where the bruises are forming. Then he moves to unbutton and unzip my slacks, pushing them down over my hips, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. I grab his shoulders as I step out of my pants and he rises, lightly brushing a few strands of hair out of my face, and whispers, “You mean so much to me. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

  He gives me a soft kiss, then goes back to the shower task. Turning the water on, he makes sure it’s the right temperature. He gets all the necessities ready, then turns to look at me. I know him well enough that I know he is silently asking permission to continue to undress me and assist me in showering. I nod, answering him. Not once does he take time to ogle or make me feel cheap. Drew has a way of making me feel like I am worth more than all the money in the world.

  Any other time I would feel so self-conscious in a lit room completely naked, but I know he is not gawking at me or taking advantage of the situation. All he cares about is me and my needs. He fills that emptiness that I have felt for years. I feel whole when I am with him. Even when something like this happens, I still feel like smiling when I look at him and realize that he is mine.