A week later, I had the afternoon off. It was sunny, though still cool, only the first days of March. I grabbed one of my thick hoodies, a book, and a coffee, and walked to a park near the house, which overlooked the ocean. It was my favorite place to unwind. Sometimes I didn’t even read, I’d just sit and stare out at the water, at the vast space. Often my mind would drift to the girls back in Rockland and I’d hope they were okay. I usually chose a bench that was in the open so I could see anyone coming or going. That day, though, an older couple were in my usual spot so I had to pick another one that was set back in the trees more. I still felt safe because Helen and Joanne were working.
I’d just turned a page in my book, eager to get to the next scene, when I felt a movement behind me. Before I could react, an arm went around my throat and I was being hauled over the back of the bench. The book went flying. I kicked and struggled. The hard metal of the bench dug into my back as I was scraped along it and thrown to the ground, my teeth biting into my tongue. I had just enough time to register that it was Helen, Joanne standing behind her, when they started coming at my face. I blocked the punches, twisting and rolling, felt a jolt of agony as Helen connected with my arm. Shit. They were wearing brass knuckles. This time they were trying to leave marks. I curled into a ball, protecting my face and head, and took hit after hit, to my kidneys, my back, my legs and arms.
Then a muffled voice. Joanne’s. The blows finally stopped, footsteps running away, loud breathing fading off. Now another voice. “Oh, my God, are you okay?” Gentle hands on my arm.
I took my hands away from my face and opened my eyes, tried to catch my breath. I slowly uncurled my body, groaning.
A woman in a jogging suit said, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay.” She looked worried, her hand on her cell.
I got to my feet and leaned against the bench, gripping the back as spots swam before my eyes. My knees almost buckled, but I held tight.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine, really. I’ll call the police myself.”
Once the woman had jogged off, I limped to the bathroom in the park and tried to clean up as best I could. Bruises were already starting to show on my body, but my face at least was untouched. When I walked in the door of the halfway house, I held my body stiff, every breath sending a stab of pain through me, but trying not to show that I was badly hurt. Helen was at the front desk, talking to one of the staff members. She looked surprised for a moment and nervous, her gaze shifting from me to the staff member and back to me, like she was waiting for me to say something.
“How you doing, Murphy?” she said as I signed in.
“Great.” I nodded, smiled. “Never felt better.”
Now her eyes flashed anger, but she couldn’t do anything. I finished signing in and headed upstairs without giving her another glance.
Joanne was in our room. I walked over and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling it up tight around her throat so she was forced to gasp for breath. My body was in agony, but I gritted my teeth. Her gaze flicked to the door, her mouth open as though she was going to call for help. I slapped my hand across her lips. I leaned closer until I could see every red vein in her eyes, smell stale cigarettes and something chemical drifting off her skin, made more pungent by her fear.
I said, “You touch me again, you do one fucking thing to me, and I’ll kill you, understand?”
She nodded frantically. I released her and she dropped back down onto the bed, rubbing at her throat. I stood in front of her.
“Keep the fuck away from me or I’ll gut you like a pig.”
She met my eyes, looking even more terrified than when I’d been gripping her. She knew I wasn’t making idle threats. I went to my bed, this time sleeping solid.
After that, Joanne stayed out of my way. Helen was still watching me, and I didn’t doubt that if she had a chance she’d try to finish what she’d started. But I didn’t plan on giving her an opportunity. I stopped going to the park and the shelter, only walking to work or my programs, and always with other people, never alone. When I was at the halfway house I avoided any of the common areas and stayed in sight of the staff at all times unless it was bedtime or I had to shower. Even then I made sure I came out holding something, like a mirror in my hands that I could smash and use as a weapon. My teeth ached from clenching my jaw tight, all my muscles at the ready. I lost some weight, only eating when I was working at the restaurant, and my breath constantly felt like it was stopped in my throat, but the days passed without any more incidents.
Finally, I was driven back to Rockland and had my parole hearing. I’d been nervous, damp circles of sweat under my dress shirt, and I’d hated having to express remorse for murdering my sister when I knew I was innocent, but it had to be done. To make my words resonate and ring true, I focused on my real regret about that night, how much I wished Ryan and I had made different decisions, how I’d do anything to take it all back. It was easier then, to express my shame, easier to share how much I wanted to do the right thing for the rest of my life.
I was granted full parole and would be allowed to live in Campbell River. I was going home, to a place where no one would be welcoming me.