We Were Ghosts--The Secret Life of a Survivor

by Tabitha Barret

  I sat on the edge of the plastic seat, filtering out all the chatter in the cavernous food area. My eyes were glued to the entrance he was supposed to walk through. When I saw his varsity jacket, tears escaped my control and I wanted to run to him. I had to signal to my aunt to sit back down as she nervously jumped out of her seat when she saw me stand.

  Zack’s eyes lit up when he found me, but there was a sadness in his expression that worried me. I wasn’t sure what had happened to him while I was away. Sarah hadn’t let me speak directly to Zack, so I couldn’t ask him any questions.

  I threw my arms around him when he was close enough. We held each other without speaking for the longest time. His face was in my neck and his breath against my skin grounded me. The smell of his cologne was the only medicine I needed.

  We finally let go and we sat across from each other. His hands were holding mine before I could blink.

  “I missed you,” he said, his eyes teared up.

  “I wanted to call, but I haven’t been allowed to do much. I mean, I’ve been talking to shrinks and learning how to breathe again, but apparently talking on the phone is considered too stressful an activity,” I explained.

  He nodded and squeezed my hands. “I’ve spoken to your aunt a few times. She called me after she brought you home from the hospital. She told me that she had seen our tapes and knew what was happening. She told me that you were safe and asked if I needed help,” he said in a low voice so that no one else would overhear us.

  I shifted in my chair, afraid of what his father might have done to him after the accident.

  “Do you need help?” I blurted out, unconcerned about someone hearing me.

  He grinned and shook his head. “Things got crazy when I got home that night. Dad started yelling before we even made it into the house. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t interested in his crap. I told him that I was done being his punching bag. I probably should have chosen my words more carefully, because it completely set him off. He tried to punch me, but for the first time in my life, I blocked his arm. He couldn’t believe that I was standing up to him or that I was stronger than he was. He tried to push me to the ground, but I kept dodging him. He was screaming at me on the front lawn. Neighbors were coming to their windows on both sides of the street. Things got really heated when someone called the police and a squad car rolled up. I eventually told the cop everything, including the fact that I had proof of the beatings. My dad had already started drinking after he got home. He just kept getting angrier and angrier with the cop the more he questioned my dad about my confession. I thought he was going to punch the cop. They arrested my father on the spot,” he said, staring down at our hands. “My mom bailed him out, but I had already called my uncle and told him everything. I’m staying with him for a while. Your aunt agreed to give me the tape so that I can show it to the Prosecutor. My uncle talked to the Prosecutor, he said that they would charge my father and send him to jail or get him to enter a plea bargain and send him to rehab to get help. Either way, he has to get sober.” He blew his bangs off his forehead and sighed.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” I whispered. I let go of his hands when I realized I was holding him too tightly, while listening to his story.

  “You too,” he winked.

  I looked over at my aunt and saw how tense she was. I wasn’t sure why she was freaking out, but I assumed it had something to do with Zack.

  “I think I’m coming back to school next week. They’ve been sending my assignments home so that I don’t fall behind. My mom is searching for a new place to live, which means that I probably won’t be at this school for much longer.

  He nodded and pulled his hands away to shove them in his pockets. I hated to see him upset.

  “I figured that you wouldn’t be able to stay here. I’m not sure what will happen to me, but if I stay with my uncle I’ll have to change schools too,” he said, biting his lip.

  The silence that stretched between us almost drove me insane. We both knew that this could be the last time we saw each other.

  There were so many things that I wanted to say to him, but none of them surfaced. I drummed my fingers along the smooth table and flicked away little bits of french fries that had been left on the table. I wanted to say that everything would be okay, that we would see each other again, but I couldn’t guarantee it.

  I wet my lips and opened my mouth to say something, but Zack spoke before I could. “No matter what happens, I’m glad that I met you. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t been there. You’re the only sane thing in my world,” he said as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “You gave me the strength I needed to survive. Without you, I would’ve been nothing more than the shell of a person roaming the hallways, avoiding human contact,” I said, my voice cracking.

  I wanted to hug him, but my aunt was still twitchy. It dawned on me that she was afraid that I would give her the slip and runaway with Zack. I knew how Juliet and Romeo had fared, so running away was low on my priority list.

  He roughly wiped away his tears and abruptly stood up. He walked around the corner of the table, kissed the top of my head, and walked briskly toward the exit. His last words to me lingered in the strands of my hair. “I love you.”

  Chapter 16

  Everything changed after that day. My mom found out that Phil had left the house, his money, and his possessions to her. She was shocked, and seemed uneasy about accepting any of it. When I refused to live in his house, she decided to sell it and buy a smaller house a few miles away. I was able to stay in school, but Zack moved away permanently.

  The kids at school had no idea what version of the truth to believe. Rumors spread that I had killed Phil, or that he had killed himself. A few people even claimed that Zack had killed him after the bonfire since he hadn’t returned to school after that night. No one knew about the abuse, thankfully, so I didn’t care what they said about Phil’s death.

  Though my friends knew the truth about the accident, I couldn’t tell them what Phil had done to me, nor could I tell them about Zack. It was his secret to tell, not mine, though I did tell them that he was okay.

  Each day, I smiled a little more and talked more openly. I almost laughed once or twice. I started hanging out with Megan and Kris after school, once my aunt and my mother loosened the reins. I continued to talk to my support group, my shrink, and my family counselor. The school nurse was advised about my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She learned how to help me during my flashbacks of the accident and the panic attacks I experienced during times of high stress.

  Each week, my life felt more normal, though there was always a hole in my heart. Zack and I had spoken a few times on the phone, but we were better at writing letters for some reason. He joined the literary club at his new school and would send me the stories he had written. My therapist suggested that I paint or write to help me deal with my anger, so I would send Zack my sketches or journal entries.

  I had bad days and really bad days with my therapists, but I tried to focus on getting better. I had to work on my self-worth, my self-confidence, and figure out who I wanted to be. I struggled at first, but over time, I learned how to like myself and believe that I mattered.

  My mother and I slowly rebuilt our relationship. It took time for me to be able to speak without yelling and for her to understand what I was going through. She started seeing her friends again and hanging out with our family. It took a long time, but we settled into a routine, one without Phil’s rules.

  I found out that Mr. Anderson had gone to a rehab facility, but a few months later, he relapsed. Zack refused to speak to his father again and worked out a deal with his uncle to get a job and save up until he could go to college. Thankfully, his mother had been saving away money to send him to school.

  Once I was able to drive, I visited Zack a few times, but things had changed between us. My aunt said that we would become different people without the abuse molding our pers
onalities. I didn’t want to believe her, but she was right. I could see it every time we hung out. He was more confident and happier. He was no longer breaking the rules by talking to me, so the mischievous sparkle was gone.

  I had changed too. I was able to leave my hands outside of my sleeves and I had learned how to hug my friends without cringing. The fear of Phil returning receded and I came to terms with his death. Though I had run away from him that night, it was Phil’s decision to drive like a maniac on the wet roads and not wear his seatbelt. He made the choices that ended his life, though some part of me felt guilty. I kept telling myself that if I hadn’t run, my life would have been drastically different, and not for the better.

  With a scholarship in hand, I was able to go to one of my top five choices of colleges, though oddly enough, I didn’t want to move far away from home. I had started to understand what the word “home” meant and I wasn’t ready to leave my mostly stable family and the support system they had built for me.

  Somehow, I managed to date a few guys in college, but it never worked out. I still talked to Zack, but we spoke about ourselves as if we were explaining our lives to strangers who knew nothing about us. It was strange to feel so far away from him.

  There came a point where I felt like I might actually be able to call myself a survivor, until I attempted to have sex for the first time as an adult with my boyfriend Mike, whom I had been dating for a few months. I had a terrible flashback and ended up leaving his apartment in tears, though he had no idea what was wrong with me.

  Without a plan, I drove to Zack’s dorm two hours away. When he saw me, he grabbed me and held me for an hour before either of us spoke. We talked and hung out all day together. Though we had changed, I still recognized some part of him inside. He still had some of his old hang-ups, though he had learned how to work through most of them.

  We talked about school, our friends, and our hopes and dreams. The time apart had given us a lot of perspective about why we had been so close and why we had drifted apart. Zack told me that he had left that day in the mall because he knew we both needed time to heal. Sarah and his uncle had told him that we needed to be free from our pain and break away from our destructive patterns before we could be together. We needed to be healthy so that we could have a positive and lasting relationship. I told him that I was glad we had taken the time to figure out who we wanted to be.

  That night he kissed me, and took my hand. He slowly led me into his bedroom and told me that he wanted to be my first, my real first. He took such care with me and was so gentle that I cried tears of joy.

  When we were laying on his bed, he looked over at me and the sparkle reemerged. “I know that we still have a long way to go before we can be free from our past, but I want you in my life,” he said, kissing my forehead.

  “I’ll be honest, my heart hasn’t been the same since you left,” I whispered into his shoulder.

  He kissed the back of my hand and placed my palm on his chest. “Mine either,” he winked.

  I looked down at my notes resting on the podium. I shook away my thoughts of the past and focused on my speech.

  “Fear is a part of everyday life, but we can’t let it hold us back. We need to find the courage to move forward. It’s important not to forget about the past, lest we relive the same mistakes we made, but we can’t live in the past. Look toward the future and set a goal for yourself. It can be a small goal, something easy to obtain. Then you set another goal and another. You may not achieve each goal and that’s okay, but you can’t stop trying to make your life better.”

  The crowd in the conference room applauded and smiled.

  “Each day is a new chance to live your life the way you want. It’s an opportunity to figure out who you want to be. I’ll tell you that it’s hard to decide what you should want out of life. People may have told you that you’re worthless or not worthy of happiness, but they are wrong. You should want to be happy. You should want to be free from pain and sorrow. You should believe in yourself and find a way to make a positive change in your life.

  “I had the courage to help myself and a friend of mine. The aftermath was catastrophic, but it was worth it in the end. I doubted myself every day, but I had to stay strong for both of us. I took one step at a time until I was finally able to breathe. Now, I’m standing here before you, stronger than I could have ever imagined. I stand here filled with hope as I look to the future. I encourage you to find your own path because you deserve to be free,” I said, looking out into the sea of faces. I knew some of them would go right back to their abusers because they didn’t believe in themselves, but many of them would stand up for themselves. It was the best that I could hope for.

  I nodded and thanked everyone as I headed off the stage. My bodyguard, John, was at my side as I walked toward the exit. A few people came up and personally thanked me as John kept a watchful eye on them. Over the years, I had a few abusers try to dissuade me from talking to their spouses or girlfriend/boyfriends. John, an ex-Marine and survivor of abuse, was there to make sure that I was safe.

  After signing a few autographs, I headed straight for the airport and thanked John for his support. He shook my hand and winked at me, just as he did at the end of each speaking engagement. “I come for your rousing speeches, you know that. Let me know when the next dates are and I will clear my calendar,” he said, tipping his head to me.

  “It’s never easy to break our bad habits, but I’m glad that you were able to free yourself from your past. Remember that I’m proud of you. I’ll call you when I’m ready to head out for the next round of speeches. As always, I feel safer with you nearby,” I said, smiling at him.

  He always seemed embarrassed by my praise, but I knew what he had been through and I felt that someone should remind him of how far he had come.

  During my flight home, I made my notes, just as I did after every speech. I jotted down the things that people responded to and the things they didn’t. I also came up with ideas for future speeches. It had taken a lot of therapy and even more psychology classes to get to where I was. Having trained with counselors to get my Master’s Degree, I had decided to help others like myself and the people from my support groups. One thing had led to another, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of large crowds, talking about my experiences.

  I rolled my carry-on up the ramp, happy to be home again. I walked past the baggage claim and took the escalator down to the pickup area, eager to see the eyes that made me smile.

  Pigtails and the bright blue eyes I had missed terribly greeted me when Clara held out her pudgy little fingers, expecting a hug. My gaze shifted to the man attempting to keep Clara from squirming free and found the other set of sparking blue eyes I wanted to see.

  “Miss me?” I asked, grabbing Clara before she could jump to the ground.

  “Just a little,” Zack winked before he leaned in and kissed me with as much passion as Clara would allow before grabbing his hair.

  We both laughed as we carefully pried her fingers open to release him.

  “How’s the new book coming along?” I asked as he took Clara from my arms.

  He shrugged and nodded to Clara. “She thinks she can help daddy write and literally jammed up my keyboard with her peanut butter and jelly hands. My fans are begging me for my next book, so I sent out a photo of my keyboard so that they would understand my struggles,” he laughed.

  I laughed at the mental image of him wiping off his sticky keyboard. “Your fans will understand. I’m also waiting impatiently for your next book,” I winked. “We all want to know if the dragon will kill your heroine.”

  He chuckled at my eagerness to proof his latest story. “I’m curious about that too,” he winked.

  “You’re such a tease,” I laughed.

  He knelt down and strapped Clara into her flowery stroller. Letting out a breath, he said, “Your agent called. He wants you to do four more tours dates.”

  I handing Clara her pink pacifier and thoug
ht about doing more speaking engagements.

  Zack kept his eye on me as he pushed the stroller toward the exit. I finally shrugged. “I think I need to spend some time with my two favorite people before I leave again,” I said, wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned against him. I sighed contentedly and snuggled into his side.

  “Good,” he grinned. “I wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.”

  He kissed the top of my head and whispered I love you into my hair.

  For more information on the kinds of abuse discussed in my book, please see the websites below:

  RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) is the nation's largest anti-sexual violence organization. RAINN created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE, online.rainn.org or rainn.org/es) in partnership with more than 1,000 local sexual assault service providers across the country and operates the DoD Safe Helpline for the Department of Defense. RAINN also carries out programs to prevent sexual violence, help victims, and ensure that perpetrators are brought to justice.

  The Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) is dedicated to the prevention of child abuse. Serving the United States, its territories, and Canada, the hotline is staffed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with professional crisis counselors who, through interpreters, can provide assistance in over 170 languages. The hotline offers crisis intervention, information, literature, and referrals to thousands of emergency, social service, and support resources. All calls are confidential.

  The hotline has received more than 2 million calls since it began in 1982. These calls come from children at risk for abuse, distressed parents seeking crisis intervention and concerned individuals who suspect that child abuse may be occurring. The hotline is also a valuable resource for those who are mandated by law to report suspected abuse, such as school personnel, medical and mental health professionals and police and fire investigators. Visit their website at https://www.childhelp.org/hotline/