by Adams, Lucia
Wanting the opiates made her itch, but after she had taken a few, she felt sparkly and much more relaxed. The emotional fragility she was experiencing made her realize it wasn’t the time to detox herself—she was scared. She wondered if Marcus knew she had liked him. She kept running through her head how she had acted towards him, searching through her memories of the brief moments they spent together, trying to figure out if she had made him think she wanted the sex. Yes, she had wanted it; she wanted him to want her—but not in front of others, and not to be shared. She concluded that it was, without a doubt, her fault.
Hannah wanted to go to the hospital and the police, but she knew it would only lead to questions about her scars and drug use if they tested her for it. As a rule, she avoided doctors and their questions.
*
Jared brushed long after the knot was out. He spoke softly and called her ‘bird’. She liked it. In high school, they had a foreign exchange student from London who called girls birds—well, the pretty girls like Olivia and her friends. He never called Hannah ‘bird’, but Jared was doing it now. It made her smile. So few things made her happy anymore. Matt had the new Hannah, and she was only the old, fat Hannah. Her thighs still rubbed together and she had a little mound under her belly button which no amount of exercise or vomiting could melt away. Not only did she feel ugly, but she had abandoned herself.
Hannah fell asleep leaning on Jared as they watched a movie. When she woke up, she was startled for a minute and wasn’t sure where she was at. Jared smelled clean when she nestled into his arm and the faintest hint of cologne lingered on his shirt. The pain ached and burned until she opened her eyes so she went upstairs to get more pills. She tossed them back in her throat and drank from the faucet.
Jared was standing in the doorway, watching her. He startled her. The odd look on his face gave her chills.
“How do you feel?”
“I hurt…in a lot of ways.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No.” She shook her head, folded her arms, and looked at her bright pink painted toes.
“What about the hospital? Are you sure you won’t go?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood, then she sucked on it, never looking up at Jared.
“You should really see a doctor—to you know—get tested and stuff.”
“Yeah.” She rocked sideways on her ankles, popping them out and back in. It hurt, but she needed the distraction.
“Listen, I’m not going to talk about it anymore, but if you want to, I’ll listen…just ask. Okay?”
“Thanks.” She smiled, but it disappeared as quickly as it crescented upwards.
“I gotta go soon. You know, curfew and all. But if you want, I’ll stay on your couch tonight so you won’t be alone.”
“That’s nice of you, but really, I’ll be okay. I don’t want you to get into trouble for not sleeping there tonight.”
“I’d be glad to if it would make you feel better.”
“No, I probably need to be alone for a bit as well.”
“Okay, well, I’m gonna go then. I’ll call you tomorrow or stop by to see how you’re doing.”
“Thanks.” Hannah smiled at Jared, sincerely thankful for his kindness and that he strapped down his creepiness for the night.
*
In the morning, Hannah was still sore. She stood over the ironing board, trying to press the wrinkles out of a white blouse. Her tears dropped onto the shirt, and the iron steamed them away. For a moment, she considered pressing the iron’s hot plate against her cheek. The tear-shaped metal, dotted with little holes like insect eyes, stared back at her. She knew it would hurt—possibly stick to her skin, but she wanted to override her pain with something of her own doing.
With a sigh, she gave up on the idea and resumed ironing. At seven a.m., the thought to call off of work ticked in her head. At seven thirty, it seemed like a good idea. At seven forty-eight, she made the phone call. Terrible stomach cramps were her excuse. It wasn’t a lie—the stress devoured her, as if it was trying to hollow her out to be like one of those chocolate Easter bunnies. Since she didn’t have to work, she took more Percocets and went back to bed.
The pain killers made her drowsy, but she still couldn’t sleep. Even the blood pumping through a vein in her neck was like a lullaby, but nothing soothed her. The feelings of panic were consuming her. Calling the women’s clinic was inevitable; she knew she needed to be tested.
She swung both feet over the edge of the bed and placed them flat on the floor. With both hands, she gripped the edge of the mattress and breathed in and out as fast as she could in an attempt to calm herself. A psychologist she’d seen when she was sixteen had taught it to her. Largely ineffective, it was a last resort. She stood, retrieved the phone and the phone book, and did her breathing exercise one more time before she dialed.
It was easy—the receptionist was in a hurry and didn’t ask a lot of questions. Hannah told her she was having a problem, needed seen as soon as possible and was offered an appointment for the following day. Hannah hesitated for a second—it would require missing work, but she agreed with the time, and hung up. After she did the calculated inhales again, she dialed her boss and left a message with the secretary that she’d be off work the next day because she needed to see her doctor.
Hannah was relieved to have taken care of scheduling the appointment. She bit her bottom lip and thought about calling Matt for a second, thinking he might be at home. She inhaled deeply, held her breath, and dialed. As soon as the phone rang, she exhaled. He answered.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Matt. It’s me, Hannah…um…Hannah Simmons,” she added her last name because of the other Hannah.
“Oh, hey, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if you had any H.”
“Yeah, I have. Why? You know someone that’s looking?”
“Um…yeah, me.” Hannah didn’t hesitate—she knew she wanted it.
“You?” Matt sounded surprised.
“Can I come by and get some?”
“Of course, just stop over.”
“Actually, if I drive over in five minutes and park in the back, can you run it out to my car?”
“Err…sure. I have your money, too. You forgot to take it the other night.”
“Cool.”
“Hey—how much you want—of the H, I mean?”
“Two buns, just take the money out of what you’re paying me back. I’ll be there in five.”
Hannah hung up. She wasn’t looking to draw the conversation out with Matt. The itch wept from behind a bolted door and wanted to feel better.
The long robe her mother gave her for Christmas and her pink fluffy slippers would have to do. She wasn’t in the mood to change. Without caring who saw her, she slipped outside, got in her car, and drove to Matt’s. Working the pedals with her slippered feet felt odd, but she was intent on getting there as soon as possible.
She parked in his back driveway and within minutes, he came out and got into her car.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Hannah glanced at him, but then looked straight ahead.
“I put everything in the box.” Matt held up a box of cake mix and shook it.
Hannah glanced at him. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“Are you doing this alone?” He seemed curious.
“Yeah, and I’m kind of in a hurry.” Hannah arched both of her eyebrows and gave him a flat smile.
“Uh, sorry…but, um…thanks again for lending me the money.”
“No problem.”
Matt got out of the car, but leaned back inside, “Hey, call me sometime and we can hang out.”
“I’ll do that.” Hannah nodded her head—anything to get Matt out of her car. The door was only shut for a few seconds before she drove away.
Once home, her fingers were anxious, but precise. Rip the foil. Cut the baggie. Sprinkle, sprinkle. Straw between
lips. Flick the lighter. Inhale. Melt into an oblivion of bliss.
Behind tired, purple, closed eye lids, Hannah imagined pillows the size of swimming pools made of whipped marshmallow. She’d boing off of the top of one, onto another; and then bounce—weightless— free of her worries with and nothing to focus on except how she felt—like she could fly.
CHAPTER 19
Here-Rows
Hannah seemed in a dark place when she stopped by. The robe and slippers were another sign. Matt wondered if she was far along in addiction and tweaking, or if it was something else. The thought of Jared with her clenched in the bottom of his stomach. He tried to bite it back, but after pacing the length of his home, he knew the girl had him. He’d never been in love before, and it made him physically ill. The feelings were like foreign currency in the pocket of a traveler. He sat on the couch with his head in his hands.
He knew that if anyone could love the darkest parts of him, it would be Hannah—the girl he had destroyed, but now desired. Defenseless, she was so willing to give pieces of herself to him that he knew she could love him too. She was simple, and quiet, and had grown up to be one of the most striking women he’d ever seen. Of course he realized this might be the love clouding his thoughts, but he knew he wanted her.
He thought about putting an end to Jared’s plan, but he didn’t know how. As much as he wanted to save Hannah, he also didn’t want to go to jail. All of the years in the state hospital taught him that he never wanted to be a caged rat again. The only thing it taught him was he needed to be a smarter criminal.
Jared said he had made sure that if anything happened to him, the secret would be disclosed. Matt didn’t know if he should believe him or not, but knew he was crazy enough to be capable of anything. He would have to keep better tabs on Jared, maybe by reviving some of the relationships he had with people still living in the group home.
He felt like he was standing outside of a slaughterhouse, peering through the window at Hannah on the butchering table with a bloodied, mad Jared hovering over her. Matt wanted to save her—to be her hero—then, she would love him even more than he could imagine. He considered calling her, or walking over to check on her, but didn’t want to alert Jared to anything in case he was there, watching.
*
Matt didn’t expect Jared to come over after day treatment, and he frowned at being caught off guard. Jared was a flurry of high-pitched rants and flapping arms. Matt found it amusing until he started to understand what Jared was saying.
“Wait—Hannah was raped?”
“Yes, YOUR fucking friends did it.”
“What do you mean, ‘my friends’?” Matt retorted angrily.
“Marcus—you know, the junkie you introduced her to. You let him shoot Hannah up and now she’s all fucked up on drugs and…”
“Stop. I’ve smoked and snorted with Hannah, but we’ve never shot up.”
“I didn’t say YOU, I said Marcus. You left him alone with Hannah and he shot her up.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last week, here, in YOUR house. Hannah told me.”
“Fucking Marcus.” Matt shook his head.
“That’s not even the worst part. He ran into Hannah at the convenience store and took her to some crack house where he shot her up and they all raped her.”
Matt sat on his couch for a minute, again holding his head, before he jumped up and punched the wall. Fucking Hannah, always getting herself into trouble.
“Do you know where this house is that these friends of yours hang out at?”
“No, I barely know Marcus. How the fuck—you need to get Hannah to show you where this house is. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I’m going there as soon as I leave here. I want you to burn their fucking house down with me.”
“What?” Matt laughed, “We can’t just burn their house down. We can’t even go over there with a couple of baseball bats. They’ll probably outnumber us, two to one.”
Jared breathed forcibly through his teeth, “I said, WE are going to burn that fucking house down.”
“I’m done with your fucked up plans, Jared. I’m not playing games with you anymore. I’m not going to jail for arson,” yelled Matt.
Jared smirked, “What about murder?”
Matt grabbed Jared by the throat and pinned him against the wall. “Listen, you creepy fuck, I’m not going to be your fucking bitch for the rest of my life over something that happened when I was a kid. Humans can’t fly, you can’t fly, and Hannah can’t fly. Finish your freak plan with her and then leave both of us alone. Understand?”
Jared laughed. His face was all red and his arms dangled uselessly, but he laughed. “Touchy, touchy, Matt. Watch that anger, we both know how it gets the best of you.” Then he screamed, “Now let me the fuck down.” Matt released him. Jared’s face was still flush as he straightened out his clothes. “You don’t want to help me with this? Fine! I’ll do it myself. You keep your end of the deal about Hannah and then I’ll be done with you.”
Jared walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Matt exhaled and sat down on the couch.
Just let him finish what he’s doing and he’ll be gone. I hope. And Hannah…letting Marcus shoot her up. That fucking Marcus—he’s done. Watching his friends fuck Hannah—he probably got first dibs on her. I should have known. That time he was here, she was so high and he kept checking her out. Fuck! I’ll just have to wait. Yeah, I’ll wait this out. No wonder she looked like such shit today. She didn’t fucking deserve this. I hope Jared does firebomb the house.
Matt picked up the phone and dialed Hannah number two. Only one thing could fix his mood, but since he couldn’t have her, he’d settle for second best.
CHAPTER 20
Highlights
The amount of pills Hannah needed to swallow to make the trip to the women’s health center bearable was lethal. She knew this, so she only took a few. A normal examination was hard enough without a rape confession, being tested for sexually transmitted diseases, and the inevitable questions about her scars.
The receptionist handed her a clipboard with forms to fill out while she copied her insurance cards. The basic information was easy, but as she flipped each page, the questions became harder:
Previous Surgeries: Multiple/ orthopedic/ both legs
Current Medications: Percocet 10mg 1T TID; Zoloft 100mg 1T BID; Xanax 2mg QID
Are you sexually active? Yes
Number of Pregnancies: 0
Number of Sexual Partners in Past Year: (left blank)
Have you engaged in oral sex? Yes (duh)
Have you engaged in anal sex? (left blank)
Have you ever been raped? (left blank)
Are you a victim of domestic violence? No
Current Method of Birth Control: None (Does hope count?)
Reason for visit: (left blank) (Fuck! Who writes these questions?)
Hannah took the clipboard up to the receptionist and pushed it through the short glass opening. As soon as it was taken from her, she sat down. A few minutes later, the receptionist called her to come back up. With a blue pen she tapped the form Hannah had filled out.
“You didn’t answer all of the questions. You have to complete the form.” The woman took a highlighter and stroked it across the blank questions before handing it to Hannah.
Great. Not only did I want to avoid some of these questions, but now they’re freakin’ highlighted.
Hannah answered the questions and returned the clipboard. Festering anxiety punched the inside of her stomach, and she considered leaving before they called her name, but she didn’t. Her feet danced over the carpet as her heart ran up-scales with its own beat until she was summoned by a young nurse dressed in pink scrubs.
“Hi, Hannah. C’mon back.” The well practiced, welcoming smile was billboarded across her face as she held the door open. “Follow me into the second room on the right and we’ll get your weight and blood pressure.”
Get
ting her blood pressure taken was something which always led to problems. Nurses liked to roll sleeves up and the old scars, as well as the fresh, raised, red ones, always brought questions. This nurse didn’t push Hannah’s sleeve up, but she did try to turn her arm palm-up and Hannah’s sleeve had slid up near the wrist, exposing horizontal and vertical embarrassments. The nurse kept trying to twist her arm, but Hannah resisted until finally the nurse left her arm as it was and finished taking her blood pressure.
“It’s a bit high. Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Is this your first time? I was nervous my first time too.”
“Yes.” It was all the answer Hannah could mutter.
“You’ll be fine. We all have to go through it.” The nurse smiled and handed her a cup. “We need a urine sample. We give all of our patients pregnancy tests. The bathroom’s the next door up. Leave the sample in the recessed cabinet and I’ll be able to get it.”
Hannah faked a smile and went into the bathroom. The walls were covered with posters encouraging women to get help for domestic violence and to report child abuse. It was an additional dose of education which she didn’t want as she hovered over the toilet with her cup held between her legs. The urine splashed, leaving wet dots on the label. Classy, Hannah.
She placed the cup in the recessed area and washed her hands. There wasn’t enough soap or running water to wash her anxiety away. She turned the cold water on and held her hands under it until they were painfully icy. In and out she breathed, trying to calm herself down. Again, she contemplated leaving, but she’d have to walk past the nurse and she was sure it would lead to questions.
When Hannah returned to the room, the nurse was waiting with her file. “All set?” She smiled an enormous, toothy smile. Hannah wondered if she peeked at her file, but she just nodded. “Great, follow me.” The nurse led her down the hallway to an examination room. She stuffed the file into a holder on the door and breezed in, quickly taking out a gown and another item. “Okay, I need you to take everything off, including your bra and panties; put the gown on with the ties in the back, and sit on the examination table. You can use this to cover yourself.” She handed the other item to Hannah, which was a blanket-sized paper towel. “I’ll leave you alone so you can get undressed and the doctor will be in shortly.” She produced another obnoxiously happy smile, but this time Hannah could see her gums as well. It was a bit disgusting, but Hannah smiled back.
