A Torey Hope Novel Series: The Complete 4-Book Box Set

by A. D. Ellis

  Cal had since remarried and Duke was divorced, but they had also moved bases so she never saw them again. She replaced them with other soldiers and officers and boys from school. Eventually, Audrey buried the pain of being molested at age 13 and raped at age 14 by men her father’s age. She pushed it aside and focused only on the power that sex gave her. That power made her hungrier and meaner than she’d ever been. Audrey had started being mean to Beth around the time her mom died and with each passing year she got angrier and angrier at Beth. Beth was happy, content, beautiful. Audrey felt none of those things, so she continued to use sex as power, but she also doubled up her focus on controlling Beth and making her as miserable as she herself felt.

  Chapter 3

  Audrey

  It was 9 pm when Dr. Xander finally declared it was time for us to take a break. I broke from the foggy thickness of memories that were smothering me. My stomach churned and I knew that I was going to throw up. Dr. Xander had been prepared for this it seems because he handed me a trashcan. When I was done, I glanced around the office. It appeared that we had eaten lunch and dinner in his office. I didn’t recall eating. In fact, I didn’t recall anything after walking into Dr. Xander’s office this morning.

  “Congratulations, Audrey, you just started the journey to healing. I know that was a horrible hell that you just walked through recalling all of those memories, but now that it’s out, we can work with it. It’s not going to be easy, but I feel like you did the very hardest part today. Letting all of that come out took a lot of courage. I’m proud of you.” Dr. Xander looked at me with compassion, but I was glad to see his eyes didn’t show pity. I felt a little surge; no one had ever said they were proud of me, at least not since my mother died. I hadn’t really done much to be proud of. “I’m going to give you a pill for nausea and one to help you sleep. You can skip our morning session tomorrow, but our afternoon will be intense. Now, head to bed. A nurse will bring your meds in a moment.” Dr. Xander laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed like a father who knew a child was hurting, but didn’t want to overwhelm her.

  I have no memory of walking back to my room. I vaguely remember the nurse bringing the medication. I must have changed into my pajamas because when I woke at noon the next day, I was wearing them. My head was swimming; my stomach was swirling and threatening to convulse. I think I must have been in shock from the sordid details of the story that poured from the deepest, darkest corner of my soul yesterday. I moved robotically to change my clothes, brush my teeth and hair, and eat a piece of toast. I couldn’t tolerate anything more. I swallowed a sip of juice.

  Dear Beth,

  I finally remembered something. It’s bad, Beth. I don’t really know what else to say. I’m scared.

  Audrey

  Feeling terrified, yet determined, I made my way to Dr. Xander’s office. Somewhere between last night’s session and this morning, I’d steeled my resolve to sojourn through this new reality. I dreaded facing the dirtiness, the hurt, the confusion, and the fear. But, I now had a single-minded goal to reach for; I would unravel the shambles of my past so that I could resuscitate the broken relationship I had with Beth and my father. I walked, no, I powered into Dr. Xander’s office, plopped on the couch with a purpose, and said, “Ok, Doc, let’s fix this shit.”

  The next three weeks were the most exhausting, painful days of my life. Yet, paradoxically, they were also the most freeing, healing, invigorating days of my life as well. I was severely marred by the actuality that I had to face. I was a molestation and rape victim. This made me angry. No, I was enraged. But, I was also nauseated by what I had let happen to me. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the details that pointed to clear cut evidence that, toward the end, I was asking Cal and Duke to touch me. I was disgusted that Cal and Duke had preyed on me; although it took a while to concede that I HAD been a victim in all of it. No matter my actions, I was a victim and my resulting behaviors were not to be held against me. It took a lot to digest what Dr. Xander told me. In fact, I’m still working on accepting it. He said I was a victim and I didn’t ‘allow’ anything to happen to me. In my young mind, I was doing what seemed like the best I could do. I turned a trauma that was forced upon me into something I could compartmentalize in my brain. I was never in control of the situation with Cal and Duke, but letting myself believe that I was took some of the pain and dirtiness away. As a child dealing with the loss of my mother, I didn’t feel like I could add any more anguish on my already unstable father, so I took it upon my shoulders and convinced myself that I was ok with it, tricked my body and mind into thinking I was in control.

  Our first goal, which would be ongoing, was to deal with the molestation and rape. I had to acknowledge what had happened. I had to mourn what had happened. Dr. Xander had me start with mourning the loss of my mother. This is something, had he been mentally present enough to realize it, my father should have helped Beth and me with. I never got the chance to grieve for her properly. Next, I had to mourn the loss of my childhood and my innocence. I spent a whole day learning what to expect as the stages of mourning and grief continued; it wouldn’t be a quick process.

  Next, I had to forgive myself. I had to remove the blame and shame from me and put it on Cal and Duke. This, too, would be a long road. My mind understood that it wasn’t my fault; my heart and body still felt like I was partly responsible. I had to acquiesce to the fact I was a victim. Once I accepted the word victim, I had to throw it out and replace it with SURVIVOR. I liked survivor a lot better than victim. One simple activity that Dr. Xander had me do was write the word “victim” on numerous pieces of paper; I also drew pictures or wrote related words on the papers. Then he had me crumple each and every paper; I got to throw each ball of paper across the room as long as with each toss of the paper I shouted, “I’m a survivor!” At first, this seemed silly, but by the end of the session, I was breathless with the freedom it brought me.

  The last thing we would cover during my time as an inpatient was my sexual promiscuity. The other things we had to deal with would be tackled during outpatient therapy. Dr. Xander didn’t want me having sex for a while. However, he didn’t discourage dating IF I thought I could handle platonic relationships at first. Aside from Nicky Morgan, the somewhat cognitively delayed twin brother of Beth’s boyfriend, I didn’t have any platonic relationships, and I really wasn’t up to dating right now anyway. Dr. Xander wanted me to heal emotionally first before I jumped into something sexual. He warned me that, as the healing process continued, I may get some of the same urges to use sex as power and control over a situation. He encouraged me to find a better form of control, such as running or boxing or painting. He required me to make a list of five things I could do instead of looking for sex. I decided on 1) play video games with Nicky, 2) call Beth, 3) go to the gym and punch the bag for at least 20 minutes, 4) go to the center and read to Beth’s students, 5) write or paint. I guess, if all else fails, I could ask Beth to go for a run with me, but I’m going to have to be pretty desperate to run on purpose.

  Dear Beth,

  Turns out that there’s a reason behind me acting the way I’ve always acted. It’s not my fault. I was a victim, but now I’m a survivor! I may be asking you for help from time to time. I’m sorry, Beth, we have so much to fix.

  Love,

  Audrey

  My month of inpatient treatment was coming to an end. Dr. Xander made me schedule the next month of outpatient sessions so that I couldn’t forget them or put off scheduling them. I would see him every day Monday through Friday for a month. Then we’d reevaluate and schedule the next month. Dr. Xander said to expect three times a week after this first month if we both felt I was progressing. He also requested that we make a list of goals for our sessions this for next month. He said having something to work toward would make the sessions seem more meaningful and purposeful. My list included the following:

  *Work through and apologize for what I did to Nate.

  *Work through and apologize
for what I did to Beth and Nate.

  *Apologize to Beth for my treatment of her for the last 15 some years.

  *Acknowledge my uncomfortableness around people with disabilities

  *Tone down and soften my image; be comfortable just being me; stop projecting myself as a sex object

  I’m sure, if given time, I could have come up with a much longer list, but Dr. Xander said that a shorter list would be perfect for our next month of sessions, and we could revise it as needed.

  On my last day of inpatient therapy, Dr. Xander made me come up with a little theme for myself. At first, I felt sort of stupid, but in the end I was very satisfied with my theme. My first theme is SURVIVOR. I keep it written on a card in my purse and on a card taped to mirrors in my car and my bathroom. But, I needed a little catch phrase to cling to. I came up with “I can only show love when I know how loved I am”. I knew that I had love to give, but according to Dr. Xander, I didn’t feel worthy of love, so giving my love away wasn’t possible until I felt that self-worth. This phrase went on cards as well.

  Dr. Xander allowed me to return to my party planning business; I hoped I still had a party planning business. I was really good at what I did and I was eager to get back to it. I prayed that my month away hadn’t hurt business too much.

  The day of my discharge it rained in the morning. But, by the time I walked out of the treatment center to get in Nathaniel Morgan’s Jeep with Beth, there was a rainbow arcing across the sky as the sun shined like a beacon of hope. I grasped onto that hope and headed toward the rest of my life.

  Chapter 4

  Jeremiah Jordan

  Eight Years Earlier

  He lifted his aching head and looked briefly around the room. Shit, he couldn’t remember where he was. He felt the bed shift and he glanced fearfully at the body moving next to him. It wasn’t his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Shelly. He knew this because Shelly was blonde and this woman definitely had dark hair. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “Good morning, Sexy,” she purred. This woman was gorgeous and he was beginning to recall certain parts of last night that he most certainly wouldn’t mind replaying.

  He felt a twinge of guilt as he wondered where Shelly was. He had come to the party with her last night but, the last time he saw her, she was doing a line of coke with three other guys and looked like she had definite plans with them. At least, he assumed she had plans for them since she had her tongue shoved down the throat of one of the men and her hand on the crotch of the other one. Jeremiah had wandered to the kitchen for another beer. He didn’t have to be back on base for three days, but he didn’t think doing a line or two of coke would be smart, so he settled for taking a couple hits from a joint that was being passed around. Feeling good, he headed to the dance floor with a single goal: find a pretty girl and screw her senseless. Within seconds he’d found one and started dancing behind her. After a couple of dirty whispers in her ear, they headed toward an upstairs room.

  This brought him back to the present. He could have sworn the girl he was dancing with on the dance floor last night was a redhead; he had to wonder exactly what went on after that beer and little bit of pot. Not one to turn down an obviously interested female, Jeremiah rolled her beautiful body on top of his. Even through the haze rolling from the bitch of a hangover he had, he could appreciate her gorgeous curves. He welcomed the warmth of her body as she took him in. In the back of his mind he recalled Shelly; knowing her she was passed out somewhere or enjoying a bit of this same morning activity. He shook off the thought of his girlfriend and concentrated on fully enjoying the girl riding him so expertly right now.

  Jeremiah and Shelly had a messy relationship. When things were good, they were really good. The sex was always awesome, that was never a problem; the sex was probably the only reason they ever came back to each other. Their problem was that they didn’t exactly like each other. Shelly was snooty and spoiled and a drama queen. They were constantly “off” in whatever this relationship was. Shelly had a problem staying faithful. Jeremiah would have never pictured himself as a cheater, but when Shelly left him at least once a week to go fuck someone else, it sort of hardened him and he started sleeping with people on the side as well. Shelly’s biggest problem was her partying; she drank way too much and did way too many drugs. Jeremiah drank a lot too but, except for the occasional joint, he steered clear of drugs. The military obviously frowned on drug use.

  Jeremiah had joined the Army when he was 18. He’d been a decent student, but didn’t really have any desire to attend college fresh out of high school. His parents had made just slightly too much money for him to get need-based scholarships and his grades weren’t spectacular enough to get the academic scholarships. So, the Army seemed like a good plan. After he finished his basic training for the Army, he shipped out overseas. Two years in different foreign countries, working computer systems and security details, had changed Jeremiah. If he were being honest with himself, he probably should have been seeing someone about some PTSD. He hadn’t been front line, he hadn’t seen a lot of enemy fire; he had seen too much though. He was stuck with the images of the women and children who were affected by the battles. Upon returning to the states, his heart had hardened and he just wasn’t all that interested in anything. He was still that good boy deep down, but he’d adopted sort of a party boy persona by the time he returned to the USA. At 21, he thoroughly put to use his player charms and went through several girls each and every time he had the opportunity. This went on for a year before he met Shelly. She was gorgeous and Jeremiah played her up in his mind as different than all the others. He wanted her to be different than the others because he was getting bored with the playboy life. He wanted her to be different so that he could actually start feeling something. But, Shelly wasn’t any different. In fact, she may have been worse. The first indication that it wasn’t going to get very serious was probably the fact that he walked in on her giving a guy a blow job the morning after she had had sex with Jeremiah. But, he was sort of just over it and numb to a lot of things, so he rolled with it and figured he’d enjoy whatever great sex they could have while it lasted.

  The problem now, at age 23, was that it was still lasting even though, if they were honest, they both were more than willing to move on. They were just sort of stuck and neither of them wanted to put forth the effort to leave. So they had fabulous sex with each other and other people. They partied. They got drunk. They did drugs. And then Shelly dropped a bomb. With hysterical tears she came to him, “Jeremiah, I’m pregnant.”

  Jeremiah balked at the idea of aborting his baby. Shelly was against abortion after growing up with a mother who had aborted a baby before her and dealt with guilt and depression throughout Shelly’s whole life. Shelly wasn’t interested in becoming a mother, but she also had no desire to put herself through what she watched her mom go through. She suggested adoption, but Jeremiah had formed an instant connection with this baby and he didn’t want a stranger raising HIS baby. Growing up as an only child, Jeremiah had always wished for a baby brother or sister; the thought of having a piece of himself to love sort of twisted things in his gut. Another thought that twisted his gut was the idea that maybe this baby wasn’t his. If it wasn’t his, life would actually get a lot easier; he wouldn’t be a parent and he would be rid of Shelly. But, a strange part of him was silently praying that this baby WAS his and that he and Shelly could make it work as a family. For the first time since returning from overseas, Jeremiah felt an inkling of interest in more than just having sex and getting through the day. Once the tests confirmed that the baby was Jeremiah’s, he proposed to Shelly. She accepted the simple ring with a sigh, “Yeah, I guess this is for the best, huh? Maybe someday we can get a bigger ring?”

  Aside from being scared senseless about becoming a parent, Jeremiah and Shelly had massive and valid fears about their baby’s health. Shelly had been fairly far along when she finally admitted she was pregnant. She had done her normal drinking and drugs
during that time. Jeremiah had to commend her for completely stopping the drinking and drugs once the pregnancy was confirmed. However, the sleeping around didn’t stop. Sex with Shelly while she was pregnant was explosive, as Jeremiah soon found out. A lot of men around the base also found out that sex with Shelly while she was pregnant was out of this world. Jeremiah was beyond embarrassed to walk around base knowing that Shelly was actively sleeping with other men while she was pregnant with his baby. He was a fit and attractive man; the fact that Shelly would leave his bed and go to another’s was demeaning. At this point, though, Jeremiah’s single thought was about being a good dad. He had pretty much checked out of anything involving Shelly or anyone else except his parents and his baby. He was beyond anxious and excited to meet his son. He wasn’t sure he could wait the 2 months they had left before the baby was due. He knew that being a new dad in the military, with a wife like Shelly, was going to be hard, but he was determined to be the best dad he could be to his son.