CHAPTER Thirty-One
“Young lady, what the hell is this?”
I stepped all the way through the front door while trying to steady my wobbly legs. Holy f*ck, I was buzzing. Shit! But at least I wasn’t late for curfew.
My mother stood before me, her face screwed into a scowl, one hand on her hip, the other holding up a little white rolled piece of paper.
“Well? You want to explain what you’re doing with marijuana in your room?”
I walked farther into the room, making sure to kick my shoes off first. That was a must. My mom could care less about the nightmares I had every night, but all hell froze over if I wore shoes in the house.
I shrugged and tossed my purse onto the couch. “Not really.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said ‘Not really.’ I don’t feel like explaining it. You don’t care anyway.”
“Langga, you know that isn’t true,” she deadpanned with a flat voice. Even the use of the term of endearment was more out of habit than anything else. There was no emotion behind it, no truth.
“Mom, give it up. You don’t have to pretend to care. Not now, when you didn’t care when it counted.”
She rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed breath. “What are you talking about? Of course I care.”
“Really, Mom? Did you care about my 4.0 GPA for the past six semesters? Or my early acceptance letters to half the colleges I applied to? Or how about the fact that I missed my class trip to the water park because I am freakin’ terrified of what could happen? Did you care about any of that?”
“Don’t try to turn this around on me. You still need to explain why I found a joint in your sock drawer.”
“It’s not mine,” I lied. I was just glad she hadn’t found the rest of my stash. Lately, it was the only way I could get through the night without jerking awake from another nightmare.
“And what were you doing in my sock drawer?” I glared at her.
“Never mind that,” she said, her accent sounding thicker than usual. “You can’t get out of this one, Langga. You can’t manipulate me like you do everyone else.”
“Manipulate you?” I glowered. “Like everyone else? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Mmm hmm. Want to make everyone believe your lies. Want them to think I’m a bad mother. Now you’re on drugs? And don’t think I don’t smell alcohol on your breath every weekend.”
I rolled my eyes. She was doing it again. She was imagining things, being paranoid. Sometimes I thought she was seriously delusional. “What lies? You aren’t making any sense.”
“I see how they look at me. I see your friends’ mothers whispering about me. You’ve told them. You’ve told them about me, haven’t you? You can’t say things like that. We’ll have to move again. Is that what you want?”
I took a step towards her with the intention of soothing her. She really was losing it. “Mom, I swear. I haven’t said anything.”
She turned from me to make her way back to her bedroom. Back to her side of the apartment where she could wallow in her misery alone and forget the burden of my existence. Before she made it to the doorframe of her room, she looked back at me and shook her head, disgust and pity in her slanted, brown eyes.
“You’re just like him, Langga. Just like your father.”
Slow, concentrated pain surrounded me at every angle. I couldn’t escape it. It held me prisoner and refused to let me go, sluggishly creeping over every inch of my body. The shit just wouldn’t pass, just wouldn’t move on. It just kept slowly driving its way deeper into my skull, making the task of opening my eyelids seem flippin’ impossible.
“She’s waking up!” I heard Angel gasp. “Dom, go get the nurse. Hurry!”
Light pierced my eyes, its intensity serving as tiny, razor-sharp daggers to my retinas. I wanted to cry or at least cringe, but even that hurt.
“The lights,” I hoarsely whispered. God, my throat was sore. “Kill the lights, please.”
Once the lights were comfortably dim, I slowly peeled open my eyelids. The room was bare. Sterile. Cold. I was in the hospital.
Angel looked at me with a hopeful smile. She looked horrible as if she hadn’t slept nor groomed in days. If she looked like that, then I must’ve looked like Death with PMS on a Monday.
“What happened?” I managed to croak. What the hell was wrong with my throat? It wasn’t just scratchy; it was sore and stiff.
“You don’t remember?” Angel asked with horrified eyes.
I shook my head just a fraction but it felt like I had just given myself whiplash. “I remember…what happened. But…what happened to me? What did he…”
“Here she is,” Dom beamed as he walked in, a man in scrubs right behind him. A young woman dressed in penguin-adorned scrubs followed.
“Miss Duvall, how do you feel?” the man I presumed to be a doctor asked, picking up my chart at the foot of the bed.
“Ok, I guess.”
Doctor Lovett, who had been the one to perform the surgery to repair my small, yet worrisome, skull fracture two days ago, performed a series of simple tests to ensure there wasn’t a lag in brain function. The bandages hugging the circumference of my head, as well as the ones on my face, were itching like a bitch, but he insisted I leave them be.
“Dr. Ramini, our resident plastic surgeon, will be in to talk about your options.”
“Plastic surgeon? My options?” I wanted to frown but the medical tape pulling my skin was like cheap, bootleg Botox.
“Miss Duvall, you suffered quite a bit of cosmetic damage to your face from the attack. Since the swelling from your head injury has subsided drastically, I think it’s safe to go ahead and proceed with Dr. Ramini once we get the appropriate scans done. I assure you; he’s the best in the state.”
I sat staring at him like he was speaking a different language, unable to fully digest his words. My face? He…had ruined my face?
“The police have been waiting to speak to you for quite some time. They should be up shortly. In the meantime, try to relax and I’ll be back shortly to get those tests started. Nurse Claire will give you something for pain management,” Dr. Lovett said, gently patting my shin before exiting the room. Well, at least that didn’t hurt.
My eyes darted between Dom and Angel as soon as we were alone again. “What happened to me? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart,” Dom said softly, leaning over to kiss me on the forehead. I wanted to swat him away, but one arm was in a sling and the other had been skewered with an IV line.
“You know what I mean. What did he do to my face?”
My roommates looked at each other before returning their solemn gazes to me. I could see the sympathy welling in their eyes.
“Well? Is somebody going to talk?”
Dom cleared his throat. “Kam, babe…he…uh…” He took a deep breath before grasping my hand. “Your father used a belt on you. And, uh, the impact, plus the buckle, tore some of the skin from your face, neck and shoulder.” Tears spilled from his eyes as he awaited my reaction.
“I see,” was all I could say. What could I say to that?
“Part of your ear was torn off, and you have some bruising along your cheekbone.”
I nodded, letting understanding seep into my groggy, Morphine-riddled brain. My father had finally done it. He had taken everything from me. Everything…
“Did he rape me?” I deadpanned, not a trace of emotion in my voice.
“Um, Kam,” Angel chimed in. “A psychiatrist will be in soon to talk to you about the attack. We were able to convince the staff here to let us break the news about everything else because of how…fragile you are…”
“Fragile?” I snorted. “I’m not fragile. To be fragile I’d have to be breakable. You obviously can’t break what’s already broken.”
“Kam, you aren’t broken,” Dom interjected.
“Aren’t I? Look at me.”
Dom and Angel both let their eyes drop to the floor.
“I said look at me, dammit!” It hurt to shout, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. Not the pain, not my face, nothing. I felt nothing. I was nothing.
My friends brought their gazes to my torn face and simultaneously cringed, confirming my suspicions. I was a freak show.
“Now tell me: do I look like someone who is put together? Who has been repaired? Do I look like I’m ok?”
The two of them didn’t answer. They didn’t have to. The horror was written all over their faces.
“Again…did he rape me?”
A long, torturous beat passed before Angel shook her head. “He tried, but he didn’t get a chance to, uh…go all the way before we found you.”
Relief washed over me in waves, but I didn’t show it. I kept my expression stoic. Detached. Cold. “Well, it’s a good thing you showed up in time to stop him.”
“Actually, we have Blaine to thank for that.”
Blaine?
Oh no. Blaine.
“He knows?” I screeched. I wanted to widen my eyes in terror, but they wouldn’t budge. F*ck.
“It was because of him that we found you in time. He insisted we drive him back to the apartment to…”
“He saw me like this?!” I damn near screamed. “He saw what he did to me?”
“Kam,” Dom said softly, stroking my arm. It was the only exposed part of me that wasn’t bandaged. “Blaine was the one to tear him off of you. I mean, yeah, I helped but Blaine…he just went crazy. Like a deranged madman. I ended up having to pull him off before he killed the f*cker. Still, he nearly did.”
“He’ll be here soon to see you. We sent him home just to clean up and get a quick shower,” Angel added with an encouraging smile.
I turned my head away as much as the bandages allowed. I didn’t want them to see the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t want them to see me feel. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”
“Honey, he’s already seen you. He’s been here waiting for you. He wouldn’t even allow himself to doze off. I damn near had to force him to take a break.”
I turned my head back to my friends. “He’s been here the entire time?”
“Well, he left at first,” Dom replied. Angel shot him a furious look and whispered for him to shut up, like I wasn’t right there. “Well, he did. He just had to get his head right. It was a lot for him to take in, but he came back the next morning.”
I nodded, just to give my body something to do. Anything but what I wanted to do. Cry.
“Well…I don’t want him to see me,” I said in a broken voice. “Not like this. Not now.”
“Too late.”
Every head turned towards the door where Blaine stood smiling, looking even more perfect than I had remembered. He held an elaborate flower arrangement that he walked over to place on a nearby table. That’s when I realized there were quite a few bouquets, teddy bears and Get Well cards cluttering the room. I couldn’t focus on them though. The movement caused his comforting scent of mint and spice, and just Blaine, to sweep over me. Emotion knotted in my throat.
He came to stand at my side and looked down at me, a smile still illuminating his beautiful face. “Hey baby,” he said just above a whisper.
Words abandoned me, leaving me silent and dumbfounded. Part of me wanted to fall into his arms and thank him for saving my life. For stopping my sick f*cking father from stealing the tiny piece of me that I still controlled. For loving me just as fiercely as I loved him.
But that part of me was stupid. Weak. Na?ve.
If I thought that we couldn’t continue before, I knew it without a shadow of a doubt now. My father had killed any hope for a future with Blaine. He had killed me. Just like he did my mother.
I couldn’t hold Blaine captive in the f*cked-up-ness that was my life. He was a good guy; he’d stay because he’d feel obligated to. Because that’s what good guys did—they stayed and fought for you no matter what.
Blaine had done enough fighting for me. I wouldn’t let him waste his life on someone who had no more fight left in her.
“Blaine…” His name stung my tongue. The day we met, it had felt as smooth as silk in my mouth. Now it hurt. It hurt because I knew I didn’t have a right to say it anymore.
“I think you should go,” I whispered.
“What?” He took a tiny step back as if I had slapped him. “Why?”
I swallowed the words I wanted to say. I locked them all up and stored them in the dark, empty corners of my mind, hoping to rebuild the tiny compartments. My father had destroyed them when he propelled me back into my childhood. Never again. I wouldn’t let anyone get that close again.
“Nothing’s changed, Blaine. How I feel…that hasn’t changed. Thank you for being there for me but that doesn’t mean things between us are different.”
I met his stunned, hurt expression with nothing but cold dispassion. My mask was easier to slip on now. My father had ensured that I was never able to take it off again. It was permanently etched into my torn, battered skin.
Quietly, Dom and Angel slipped out of the room to give us privacy. It wasn’t necessary though. I wouldn’t continue the charade any longer. I’d make sure that Blaine stayed away for good now.
I turned away from the pain etched in his face. I couldn’t look at him. I had enough of my own to deal with. “Look…let’s just consider this my resignation. I know it’s short notice, but I think under the circumstances, this is the best thing. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience? What? Kami…baby…talk to me.”
A warm single finger grazed my chin, causing me to flinch. I glared back at Blaine. Why couldn’t he just stay away? Why did he make me have to hurt him?
“See what you make me do, Kamilla? I have to. I have to hurt you because I love you.”
A gasp caught in my throat as my worst fear came to fruition. My mother was right. She was right all along. And that only solidified my decision.
I covered my mangled face with my only free hand and turned my head away. “Get out.”
“What?” I could hear the confusion that weighted that tiny, insignificant word.
“I said get out!” I shouted louder than was necessary. But I needed to make him see how wrong this was. How wrong I was.
As I had hoped, Dom, Angel, a police officer and a nurse came rushing in, all displaying varying levels of alarm. Blaine took one last wounded look at me before dropping his gaze to the floor. He was defeated. I had broken him down. I really was my father’s child.
I didn’t face him as he walked away. The truth was ugly enough.