Captured Again

by L. L. Akers

  Gabby hung her head and started weeping again. Olivia moved to the couch and wrapped her arm around her, pulling Gabby’s head to her shoulder. She still went on between sobs.

  “It was only a split second before I saw we would hit it, and I screamed. Jake tried to correct, but it was too late. The front wheel went up the barrier and the car flipped. Several times. All I can remember of the crash was seeing Jake reaching for me with his face so wet with those tears as it seemed we went ‘round and ‘round, with loud horrible sounds all around us. I couldn’t hear myself screaming over the noise, but I know I was. I don’t know how many times the car flipped. Then it went dark for a minute. I must’ve blacked out.

  “When I opened my eyes again, Jake was still awake and reaching for me, but instead of tears, his face was dripping with blood. I remember being so confused, thinking I had hurt him so bad with my words that he was bleeding tears. It was eerily quiet. Jake reached out for me and I grabbed his hand, telling him I was so sorry. He smiled and told me it wasn’t my fault, to let it go. He said he loved me and that was all that mattered. I tried to tell him I loved him too, but I think I blacked out again before I could say it. I don’t even know if I got to tell him one last time. The next time I woke up there were paramedics there. I was on one gurney and looked around and saw another gurney... covered in a white sheet. They took him too far away for me to reach him. I tried, but I couldn’t get up.”

  “Gabby, that accident wasn’t your fault. Thousands of people have hit the barrier walls and wrecked their cars. It happens. It could’ve happened because he was tired and got distracted.”

  “No. It happened because he was repulsed and upset by what I told him. It happened because he was trying to be strong for me by not letting me see his sorrow and trying to drive sixty-five miles an hour through a veil of tears next to a concrete barrier. It happened because of me, Olivia.”

  “Oh, Gabby. Come here.” Olivia pulled Gabby in closer and the dam broke once again.

  “Oh my God, Olivia. I-I’m so sorry. I sh-sh-shouldn’t be still doing this. I sh-should be over this by now,” Gabby said through her heaving sobs.

  “Don’t be sorry. I think you needed this. Sometimes you have to completely shatter before you can rebuild,” Olivia said through her tears as she cried along with her sister. “I think we both needed this.”

  They were so entwined in each other’s lives, had always directly felt—really actually felt—every emotion and feeling of each other’s. Right now, Gabby knew Olivia was feeling her pain in her own heart as if it was her own—and it was—as her twin sister held her. She was glad Olivia had finally given her the kick in the butt to move this train along and hoped finally talking about all of it would be what she needed to move on with her life. She couldn’t take the sharp pain of guilt anymore. She still wanted to feel—but more than just pain.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Hey, you... new kid. Where you get those kicks?”

  Emma startled, as if she’d just woken, and her eyes shot up to the woman slumped in the corner of the bunk. It was Scary Woman who’d spoken to her. She quickly shuttered her eyes back down to the floor, but not before seeing Hooker and Follower also warily watching her.

  Emma struggled to make sense of it. Had she really managed to fall asleep on this cold floor? She must have. Everything felt surreal, as it usually did when Emma awoke normally. She was sure the women had fallen asleep after she’d first come in, and she’d glanced up several times to see them still sleeping at first, but she must have eventually dozed off too. They were all definitely awake now.

  Emma could feel the heat from Scary Woman’s aggressive stare burning into her but didn’t want to risk looking directly back at her, even if she had been spoken to.

  She took a moment to consider her choices and then looked up, meeting her stare, studying Scary Woman the same way she was being studied.

  The woman wasn’t that big, really not any bigger than Emma, which wasn’t saying much at her meager five-foot-one-inch stature, but the woman looked mean—and dangerous. Her sunken eyes were rimmed with black circles and her closed mouth looked caved in upon itself, as if the bones and teeth were withered away underneath, not doing the job nature intended them. With her tattoo-sleeved arms crossed over her chest and her pierced nose wrinkled, looking down with a frown at Emma, she looked street-tough.

  “Girl, you deaf? I said... where’d you get those kicks?”

  Emma continued to stare back at her, wondering how this scary woman knew of her kicks. Did that cop talk to them before I was brought back? What an unprofessional asshole, telling them about my arrest... Isn’t that illegal or something? she thought.

  “Well... I don’t know. I didn’t learn from anywhere or anyone. I was just pissed off,” Emma finally answered hesitantly, hoping not to sound as if she were bragging.

  “What? Are you stupid or something, kid? I’m talking about your boots. I like ‘em.”

  “Oh! I thought you were talking about... never mind. I got them on sale at Nordstrom’s... the one at Southpark Mall in Charlotte. Have you been there?” Emma answered cheerily, as if this were just another girl at school, asking about her boots. Maybe these types of people did have some civility, she thought.

  The cell erupted in obnoxious laughter. Scary Woman and her follower slapped hands in the air, as if they’d just scored in a game Emma hadn’t realized she’d been a player in. Hooker just held her hand over her mouth, laughing. Emma could feel the heat rising in her face; she wasn’t sure what was so funny, but it was obvious she was the butt of the joke.

  Scary woman abruptly stopped laughing. And when she stopped, the other two immediately mirrored her silence.

  “No, love. I haven’t been able to stop by Nordstrom’s in the longest time. I must make a point to do exactly that, darlin’. I’ll pencil it in with this week’s shopping tour,” the scary woman said in a fake falsetto. “In the meantime, what size they be?” She continued, switching back to her regular voice—rough and gravelly, a heavy smoker’s voice.

  Emma cringed and again wished for Gabby to show up.

  “I think they’re a six,” she reluctantly answered.

  “That’s my size. Let me try ‘em on, little bit,” Scary Voice demanded.

  Emma sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, realizing she was being challenged. This was no different than grade school. See how far you can push the little kid before she pushed back. This was territory Emma had travelled many times with different bullies. She’d been small all her life, much smaller than all her classmates. Slender, like her sisters, but without their height—even her own sisters had called her munchkin most of her childhood and, unfortunately, still sometimes did, but at least from them it was said with love.

  Emma stretched out her legs and crossed her feet, smoothing the hem of her dress across her thighs and slowly placing one boot delicately over the other, not rushing anything.

  She then erased all emotion off her face, not letting them see her anxiety ratcheting upward, and nonchalantly rolled her eyes up above their heads to stare at a spot of nothingness on the dirty wall above them. She leaned her head back against the wall, inwardly cringing at what she imagined her hair was coming in contact with but willing her body to maintain a relaxed pose before she answered.

  “Not gonna happen. It’s cold in here. I’m not taking off my boots.”

  The cell went silent for a moment while the three looked at each other.

  Scary Woman jumped off the bunk and was over Emma in two steps.

  “Is you telling me no, little bit? I don’t think you understood. I wasn’t axing you... I’s telling you,” she threatened, standing over Emma. “Now, give me ‘dem boots!” she roared.

  Emma held her pose, not moving a muscle. She was uneasy, but not afraid. They wouldn’t have let Scary Woman in the cell before searching her, so she probably didn’t have a weapon, and Emma felt sure she could take her in a fight. She’d been in plenty of those i
n her wilder days. But what she didn’t want was more trouble from the cops. She just wanted out so she could go home and sleep. But she would do what she had to; she sure as hell wasn’t giving up her brand-new boots. She’d worked long, hard hours and scrimped and saved for them... It wasn’t often she bought something for herself, and she’d be damned if she was going to lose them the first night she wore them.

  Emma didn’t answer. She’d put Scary Woman on ignore and would wait for her next move and take it from there.

  The tension in the cell heightened with each passing second that Scary Woman waited for Emma to answer or give up her boots. Emma could feel the tautness in the air, as if Scary Woman were about to snap. Something had to give or it was going to get ugly. Emma slowly rolled her head toward her, looking her in the eyes, and gave a slow shake of her head side-to-side while maintaining eye contact, hoping the subject would just drop.

  Scary Woman snapped. “You little bitch, you don’t come up in here with yo fancy shit and think you gonna tell me no!” she screamed as she reached down to grab one of Emma’s boots, the air moving to fill Emma’s nose with a rotten smell. Something awful she’d never encountered before was coming off the woman in waves with her every movement.

  Emma quickly pulled her foot out of her hand, kicking but trying not to hit her, intent on not giving up her boot, but not wanting to fight either. She broke her silence, trying to sound tough and street-smart. “No! You ain’t getting my boots, you skank... Back off!”

  Scary Woman’s fingers kept slipping as she tried to get a firm grasp on one or the other of Emma’s boots, while Emma tried to get to her feet, but not able to while fighting off the woman’s hands. She had to use her own hands to hold her in place on the cement floor while kicking as fast as she could to try to keep Scary Woman from gaining any traction.

  “I’m telling you, keep messing with me and you’re gonna make an epic mistake!” Emma screamed while trying to keep her boots. The scuffle continued for what seemed like eternity to Emma but was probably only a moment, when a loud voice called out, freezing them both in place.

  “Hey! Break it up! You ladies want to spend another night here?”

  Emma looked up to see the jerk that had put her here standing at the door to the cell. Although she was mad as hell at him, she was glad to see his face.

  “You... come on. Your bail’s been posted,” Officer Rowan brusquely said as he pointed at Emma.

  Emma felt relief wash over her. She wasn’t sure if it came from seeing him again, even though her misplaced anger was directed toward him, or if it was just the relief of getting out of this hellhole.

  She got off the floor and pushed past Scary Woman, roughly bumping her shoulder on her way toward the door, daring her to say something or try to get her boots with him standing there. Scary Woman stood still. She wasn’t taking the bait.

  Officer Rowan pointed in the direction for Emma to go and followed closely behind.

  “You okay?” he whispered just loud enough for Emma to hear as they moved away from the cell and down the hall.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Emma snapped back at him. “Took you guys long enough to notice what the hell was going on in there. I nearly had to fight to keep my damn boots.”

  Emma couldn’t see the officer grinning behind her back.

  What she also didn’t know was he had spent the night, well beyond his shift change, watching her cell through their observation camera mounted from the ceiling. There was nothing he could do about her being put in the cell with the repeat offenders, but he had kept his tired eyes on her all night, on red alert, ready to come through and break it up just as he received notice she was out anyway. It was just coincidental timing.

  Emma was glad he was behind her and couldn’t see her eyes shining. Now that she was away from the situation, it caught up with her. She held her head up high and took in a deep breath, then swallowed hard past the knot in her throat, trying to hold back her tears. She could admit to herself now that she had been a little scared, but she didn’t want to give anyone else the satisfaction of seeing her weak, especially him. She could cry later—when she was alone.

  CHAPTER 8

  Olivia angrily paced the hallway, waiting for Emma to appear. It had been a long night for her and she had to be in court in three hours. She couldn’t postpone, and her latest case was too important to assign to someone else. She had worked for months to get in front of the judge to have her latest assigned child removed from their home before it was too late.

  She could strangle Emma for getting in trouble. She was shocked. She thought Emma had been sober for years. She was doing so well. Even going to college and working at a great part-time job that paid well. She hoped this wasn’t the start of a long-ago left behind pattern of Emma’s. Alcohol had power over Emma. Power that could reduce her to rubble if she let it. She hoped this really was just an isolated incident.

  Their family had been through hell and kept on going years ago, ripped apart until they were finally brought back together, first by the near tragedy of almost losing Gabby and then later Mom and her mind-boggling, life-threatening illness that she’d thankfully recovered from. They’d all worked hard to get from there to where they were in life... Emma getting sober and into college and a good job; Mom and her boyfriend, Nick, had gotten married about five years ago; and Olivia had finished night school while working a full-time retail job during the day to earn her degree in social work.

  Her hard work had finally paid off a year ago when she landed her job working for the state, investigating child abuse and neglect. She had known even before leaving Billy, her ex-husband, for the last time that she wanted to work with other victims, starting with children—to make a difference while they were young, to show them their worth before they fell into a cycle of abuse as she and her sisters had. She was finally in the right place in her life and doing what she loved, and she was happy—even if she was sometimes lonely—but now, since the accident, it felt like her own family was once again falling apart.

  Olivia would make sure Emma knew this was bad timing on her part with what Gabby was going through—what they all were going through—but especially Gabby. Gabby needed them all to stay strong for her just for a while longer. They couldn’t fall apart now one at a time

  Finally, the door she’d been pacing in front of opened and Emma appeared, looking tiny and scared but okay. Olivia forgot all about her anger and grabbed Emma in a hug and gave a huge sigh of relief.

  Emma let herself be hugged, lazily resting in the comfort of Olivia’s arms. She normally didn’t like to be touched, but this was Olivia, one of her big sisters, and she would allow herself to enjoy at least that much human contact right now, after what she’d been through.

  They broke apart and Emma gazed around, looking for Gabby; she was the one that was supposed to have sprung her. That was the plan. But Gabby was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Gabby?”

  “She’s getting ready for work. She didn’t answer her phone last night—again—so I dropped Nick off to get your car and went over there after I came by here. They wouldn’t let me post bail right away,” Olivia answered. “Nick drove your car home.”

  “Seriously? Oh, great. So Nick knows already... Why wouldn’t Gabby get up to help me? What the—”

  “Emma, don’t start. She didn’t answer the phone so she didn’t know you were here until I went over there. I was up with her most of the night. She finally talked about the accident. That’s progress, but she didn’t bring up after the accident. I guess she’s still in a bad place.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess that’s a step in the right direction, but after is what she needs to face. If she’s not talking about that, she’s still standing still. Taking steps is easy for her, but standing still is a lot harder on us,” Emma grumbled. “I’m sure she won’t have a problem sticking a grenade up my ass for me drinking tonight and getting arrested. She never has before. So why can’t I stick one up hers and wak
e her the hell up?”

  “No, Emma. It can’t work like that this time. Seriously. And I doubt she’ll say anything to you about your drinking with what she’s got going on. Just don’t let it happen again, or I won’t hesitate to pull the pin myself. I’ll go over and talk to her again when I get off work tomorrow—I mean today.”

  “Wait—what time is it?” Emma asked, confused.

  “It’s seven in the morning. You were in there all night. They have to hold you overnight when you’ve been charged with driving under the influence. What time did you think it was?”

  “Shit! I’ve got class in two hours! I guess I thought it was still yesterday. It seemed like I was only in there a few hours. I really must have fallen asleep for a while... and the cop that arrested me was still on duty—he just let me out. Why would he still be here?”

  “Shh! Watch your mouth in here.” Olivia looked around to see if anyone had heard. She hated when Emma or Gabby cussed in public. “Yeah, he looked like he had a long night, too. I heard two other officers talking about him, saying he was sticking around, not wanting to leave the hot chick behind. I’m assuming that’s you,” Olivia said and smiled, raising one eyebrow. “I think he was off duty hours ago.”

  She looked Emma over, wanting to give her an earful for drinking... and especially driving afterward. She carefully examined her from head to toe, trying to look stern.

  She noticed Emma’s dress was short but classy and cute at the same time, especially with the boots she’d just recently bought during their last shopping trip with Mom. She pulled off the short dress and boots in a way only a college girl could—stylish, not trampy. Her hair hung loose, shiny and smooth and still holding a few waves, the ends still curling just above her waist.

  Emma didn’t wear much makeup—she didn’t need it—but what little she had on her eyes was still neat, as if she hadn’t shed a tear. Her lips looked pouty and moist, even though bare. Emma held herself with pride, seeming much bigger than her small stature should allow. She was a beautiful woman-child at barely twenty years old, smart and full of spunk. Olivia thought back to the days when that spunk was all but gone, and she was glad Emma had found it again.