Afterward, I’m taken into a room where the Constable photographs my face, the bruises on my legs and the bite over my breast. Then I’m released and taken back to the hospital where the same nurse who had set my cast and taken care of me the night of the lantern parade carries out a rape kit, takes vials of my blood to be checked for STIs and HIV/AIDS, and hands me a tiny pill to swallow to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. I’m sent for x-rays to ensure my cheekbone is not broken and then I’m given a prescription for painkillers and the all clear to head home.
The police confiscated my clothing for evidence back at the motel. I only have the paper gown I’m wearing and the oversized t-shirt and tracksuit pants Elijah dressed me in last night. The thought of staying in his clothes, inhaling his scent the entire way home turns my stomach. I’m so confused right now as to how I feel, I’m almost numb. Thankfully Holly has a change of clothes in her car and she steps out to retrieve them. I lie back against the pillow and stare at the water stains on the ceiling. For the first time today my eyes are dry but when I hear a gruff, all-too-familiar voice out in the hallway they tear up again. My heart drops through my stomach.
Not here, I think, not like this.
“Sir, you can’t just walk in there,” a nurse calls from outside my door.
“Like hell I can’t,” he booms.
My door flies back on its hinges and across the room stands my dad. I watch him take me in and then his face crumples into a mask of anguish and my big, burly, rough-as-guts and tougher than a twenty-foot crocodile father sobs. Tears stream over his ruddy, sun-weathered cheeks and he cradles his face in his huge grease-stained palms.
For a moment I have no idea what to do. The nurse is watching me for some sign as to whether she should call security. I briefly shake my head and she leaves us alone.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I whisper and he crosses the room in two strides and wraps me up in his arms.
“Ah, Ana girl, this isn’t your fault.” He pulls my head to his chest, cradling his thick arms around my head the way he used to when I was a kid, making me feel as safe and protected as I did back then. We cry together until Holly comes back with the change of clothes, and then Dad pulls her into his arms and holds us both as he sobs.
I don’t need to ask how he knew we were here. News travels fast in small towns like ours. Which is part of the reason why I never wanted to tell—I can’t stand the thought of people looking at me with pity in their eyes, and I can only imagine what this does to their “Ana Belle the town bike” theory, but I’m grateful to have my dad here with me all the same.
Once I’m finally dressed and on my feet again, I thank Holly and tell her how much I love her and how thankful I am to have her in my life, and then I ride home with my dad. I close my eyes as we drive past the cane fields and then again as we drive past Elijah’s motel room.
I don’t know how I’ll continue living in this town with so many horrible memories around every corner. I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for the decisions I made that night, or how I’ll forgive Elijah for the ones he made, but I’m glad now that I reported it. I don’t have room in my heart right now to think about how he’s doing behind bars or how long he’ll be there. The word “mutilation” keeps running through my mind unbidden and I can only guess what it means, but I’m hoping to god it’s not what I think it is because it would mean that Elijah, my Elijah, was as sick as Scott and it hurts too much to think about that.
Chapter Twenty Four
Elijah
I spend all day at the station knowing she’s in a room nearby, wishing I could be there to hold her hand through what comes next but knowing that I deserve this, to be locked in a cell for a very long time for what I did.
The cops have already informed me that I won’t be getting a trial. Instead, because I’m already a convicted felon with two priors, I’ll stand before a judge in some bullshit courtroom hearing and have a sentence handed down to me. I don’t give a shit about the details because, deep down, I know that though what I did was barbaric, it was also the right thing.
Thankfully, I’m in a cell alone, and I don’t have to listen to some other fuck up fart and piss and complain about how he’s innocent. Instead, I lie back on the cold metal bunk, close my eyes and pretend that I’m in that shitty motel room and Ana’s wrapped in my arms where she belongs.
Much later in the day I’m taken before the judge. Despite what my legal aid lawyer says, I plead guilty to malicious intent to harm another individual. When he asks me why I committed such a heinous crime on an “innocent” young man I laugh so hard I almost die. Then I turn to him in all seriousness and say, “What would you do to the man who brutally raped your wife?” For a half-second he just blinks back at me and I think I see pity or even understanding in his eyes, but then he lifts his gavel, glares at me like this is the last place on earth he wants to be and sentences me to one year in prison with parole for good behaviour. He brings down the gavel with a hard knock. The finality of that all too familiar sound rings in my ears and makes my heart squeeze.
I’m handcuffed again and driven for two hours in the back of a paddy wagon to Grafton Prison where I’m stripped, hosed down and some big Maori guy buzzes off my all my hair. Then I’m shoved out in the yard for playtime, where every badass motherfucker in a bad mood is eye-raping me like I’m fresh meat. This is nothing new; it’s not my first time at the fucking rodeo, but it is the first time I’ve been inside without the weight of the club at my back. MCs have connections everywhere, from prison staff to inmates, and I may be a long way from home but that doesn’t mean the Angels don’t have contacts inside this prison. If they do, I’m as good as dead.
Chapter Twenty Five
Ana
I pour two vodka shots and slide one over to Holly before leaning back in the faded lounge chair. Dad and the dragon are out on some weekend-long bike run to the mountains and Sammy has long since gone to bed. These kinds of nights have been almost a regular occurrence for us since Elijah went away and Cooper up and left town for the city lights and the stage. Holly and Coop drove me crazy with their kissy faces and their pet nicknames, at least for the first two months; after that things began falling apart, swiftly.
Coop missed the city, he missed his band and he missed being worshiped by his groupies on the dance floor as he belted out songs from the stage and, despite wanting an out almost her entire life, Holly didn’t want to leave Sugartown. I hope that wasn’t on my account, but I suspect Elijah being behind bars and my impending trial might have had something to do with it.
Things got messy between Holly and Coop. They fought, they made up and then one day he showed up at the diner with a loaded car and an even more loaded ultimatum. Holly, being the stubborn woman she was, was determined to prove her point, so she sent him off without so much as a kiss goodbye.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she begins.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? You haven’t even heard my brilliant plan.”
“And yet the answer is still no.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m excellent with my hands, and I’ve never had any complaints in the sexy time department.”
I laugh. “You’re brilliant plan was that we should convert to lesbianism?”
She shrugs. “I’ll try anything once.”
“I think that’s your problem.”
Holly grabs the bottle and pours another round, “When did we get so pathetic, Ana?”
“When my boyfriend—no, when my ex-boyfriend got carted off to prison and yours up and left you for fame and fortune.”
“Right.” Holly throws back her shot and beats her chest while making a coughing-wheezing sound that makes her sound like a decrepit old woman. Then she immediately pours another and raises her glass to me. “To men who fuck you over.”
I clink my glass with hers. “To men who rip out your heart.”
“To men and their stupid, beautiful, unforgettable cocks.”
“Amen.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
I sigh. I don’t know why she asks me this, but every week it’s the same. I want to forget him so badly. If it were possible to cut him out of my heart completely, I’d do it. I’d do it and never look back, but I can’t. So the ache and the longing just continue to build inside me until I’m drowning in it: drowning in how much I miss him. How much I still love him and how much I can never forget.
“No,” I lie, but I know even Holly doesn’t believe that.
“Yeah, me neither,” she says and pours us both another drink.
Two weeks later I’m enjoying a lazy Sunday lie-in before having to make my way over to the shop for more baking when the phone rings. Apparently no one else is capable of picking it up, because it rings out and then immediately begins ringing again. I throw back my covers and dash for the kitchen, yanking the receiver from the cradle before it cuts out again.
“Hello?”
“Ana.” It’s Holly. Or at least I think it’s Holly; it’s hard to tell between all the sniffling and sobbing.
“Hols, what’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Uh … ooooh.” I slump onto a stool at the breakfast bar and blink for a full minute before I’m able to form a response. “Um, are you sure?”
“I’m staring at twenty sticks with pee on them all screaming positive. My boobs hurt, I wanna simultaneously chuck my guts up and inhale a vat of ice cream, oh and that condom that Coop said was still good after he’d been carting it around in his car since the beginning of time was not even fucking close to being still good because I have his baby taking up space in my uterus. So yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”
“Holy crap.”
“What am I going to do, Ana?”
“Hols, we’ll figure this out. Just sit tight, I’m coming over.”
“Okay. Ana?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring ice cream.”
“Okay.” I hang up the phone and stare at the countertop and the remnants of a big Sunday cook-up that Dad’s left in the sink and I kind of want to throw up myself. Then I shake off the shock as best as I can and head back to my room. I throw on the first thing I see, yank my hair back into a ponytail and dash out the door.
It’s not until I’m making a beeline for the frozen produce aisle that I remember why I’ve not set foot in this store in over two months. The surreptitious glances, the sombre silence as I leave a trail of gawking shoppers in my wake. It seems a couple of months aren’t long enough for Sugartown residents to get used to the idea that the town “whore” was in actual fact as pure as virgin snow, and their beloved town sports star was a rapist scumbag. My bruises may have healed on the outside but these people remind me daily of the damage done on the inside with their stares and their weighty silence.
I steel my nerves, straighten my spine and avoid their gazes as I turn the corner into the frozen foods section. There are two shoppers at the end of the aisle but I don’t pay them any mind; I don’t even glance in their direction. I just scan the freezer for Holly’s favourite brand and dive in when I see one tub left at the very back. Twenty seconds later I yank it free, and emerge from the cold covered in goose bumps and come face to face with Scott.
The ice cream falls to my feet and my heart leaps around inside my chest as I take in his face and the chicken scratch on his forehead.
RAPIST.
Elijah’s handiwork.
I’d heard about it, of course. Between the town and my dad I’d known exactly what Elijah had carved into his face, but that knowledge couldn’t compare to seeing it firsthand. The letters are etched into his skin with crude red scabs. It’s so disgusting and barbaric and yet fitting, all the same. It’s obvious he’s growing out his hair in an effort to hide it. Seems a stain that dirty should be imprinted on his soul, not just his forehead. Still, I guess it does what Elijah intended it to do, though that doesn’t make it any easier to see up close.
“Take one more step and I’ll scream so loud I’ll bring this place down on top of us.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says holding up his hands in surrender. “Just shopping with my mum.”
“And violating a restraining order, but then, the rules don’t really apply to guys like you, do they?”
“Ana, I’m really sorry about what I did. I was drunk. I didn’t know about you being …” I suck in a sharp breath and he peters off. I glance at his mother who doesn’t even have the sense to pretend she’s not watching this exchange like a hawk.
“Did your parents put you up to this?”
“No, I wanted—”
“You think you can smooth this over with an apology? Make it all go away?”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do-”
“Bullshit. Let’s call this what it is—a last ditch effort to get me to drop the case. Which, by the way, is never ever going to happen. You might be walking around like a free man now, but when this trial happens you’re going away for a long time.” I point my finger at his forehead. “The man who did that happens to be in the exact same prison you’re about to call home, and I’ll bet everything I have he’s counting down the days until he sees you again.”
“Ana—”
I turn on my heel to walk away but Scott reaches out and grabs my arm. I rip it out of his grasp and seethe. “Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy pig.”
And then I quickly walk away, holding my head high. I stalk past the gawping faces of shoppers and past the cashier who’d been working that till since I was five years-old and out into the midday sunshine of the parking lot where my heart drops through my stomach and I promptly fall apart.
“Where’s the ice-cream?” Holly asks as I step into her bathroom and quickly shut the door behind me.
“Probably still on the supermarket floor,” I mutter and then elaborate when she sends me a curious look, “I ran into Scott.”
“Holy fuck, Ana! Are you okay?”
“Oddly, I think I am. Or at least I will be.” I sit down beside her and she leans her head on my shoulder before handing me a pregnancy test. I glare at the little plus sign like it personally offends me. “So you went and got yourself a Mini Coop, huh?”
She lets out a humourless laugh at my terrible joke and bursts into tears. I throw my arm around her shoulders. “Hey, we’ll get through this together. We’ll get a house, sell pies by the side of the road and raise this kid together.”
“I’m not keeping it,” she whispers.
“You sure this is what you want?”
“Come on, Ana, you really think I’m Mummy material?”
“I think it doesn’t matter what I think. If you want to do this, I’ll be there with you. If not, I’ll help you look into your options.”
“I already made the appointment.”
“When?” I slide my fingers through hers and clasp her hand tight, the way we used to do when we were little and our only worries in life were running away from boys in the playground trying to catch us in a game of catch-and-kiss.
“Monday week.”
“I’m driving you.”
“Okay.” She rests her head on my shoulder again and we stay like that until the sky outside the window turns dark and her parents call us down for dinner.
Chapter Twenty Six
Elijah
My eyes dart around the visitors’ room and I scan every face before finally coming to rest on a familiar pair of clear, blue eyes, so much like his daughter’s. Bob sits at a round table, his chunky arms folded against his chest and a wistful smile on his face. I know he’s thinking I wish he wasn’t sitting there alone, but when they said I had a visitor today I wouldn’t let myself believe it would be her. I’m not sure my heart could handle that hope being crushed once I found out she hadn’t come. Still, it’s good to see a familiar face.
I smile and the cut on my lip opens up again.
It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t come. I’m already sporting a fat lip and a nasty cut over my left eyebrow from the shit storm of a fight in the yard yesterday. I don’t need to land myself in any more trouble, and beating the other prisoners’ faces in for looking at my woman the wrong way could see my parole offer for good behaviour revoked.
The guard plonks me down in the seat opposite Bob and moves to stand near the wall to watch over his band of criminals.
“How you doing, son?” Bob asks and his eyes zero in on my face.
“Can’t complain, no one would fucking listen.” I smile and hiss when my lip opens up again.
“They treating you alright?”
“What, this?” I point to my face. “Just a couple of playground bullies. They got theirs, and now they’re both in isolation. I’m keeping my nose clean, though.”
“Good, good.” Bob nods. His eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking long and hard about something, and then he snaps his attention back to me and says, “I brought you something.”
“It’s not a gorgeous blonde is it?”
“No. But it’s a picture of one.” He glances at the guard and indicates with his hands that he’s going to pull something out of his pocket before reaching in and placing three photos on the table before us. The first is one of Sammy and Ana huddled on the couch, stuffing their faces full of popcorn. Their attention is focused away from the camera, it’s a candid side-on shot. Ana’s not wearing any make up, her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she has popcorn all down the front of her shirt, but there’s a smile on her face that’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Sammy’s head is in her lap and her hand rests gently against his hair. There’s so much love in that one tiny gesture that my heart practically splits open. I miss her so goddamn much.
Welcome to Sugartown Page 18
