Scars. Part 22

38.

A phone rings faintly, somewhere in the house. The sound jars us all.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n phones," Dad says, his arm pressing hard against my windpipe. "Why won't they leave us alone?"

Choking, I pull at his arm; he loosens his grip slightly, and I suck in air. "Dad-what if it's the police?" I rasp. "They might be trying to negotiate with you."

"I don't have anything to say to them."

Still, the phone keeps ringing.

"Well, how else are we going to get out of here?"

"I don't know!" Dad says, sounding desperate. His fingers tighten on the gun, and I know he's thinking about how easy it would be just to shoot me.

But I can't let myself think that way.

Dad's gut presses into me as he breathes. His eggy breath a.s.saults my nose. I keep my body stiff, trying to block all feeling, but the rough hairs of his arm are against my jaw. I feel the warmth of his body and the beating of his heart, and it makes me want to vomit.

Mom's just sitting there crying, looking like a broken toy. I can't believe I ever thought she'd protect me. I turn my head, try to breathe better. Here I am with both my parents, and neither of them really loves me. Not the way a parent should, anyway.

If I get out of here alive, I'm going to spend more time with the people who really care about me-Carolyn, Meghan, Sandy, even Mrs. Archer. I'm going to make them my family. At least I know they love me and would never want to hurt me-or sit pa.s.sively by while someone else does.

My eyes begin to sting with tears. I want to be with the people I love, not pressed up against this man-this rapist-who's supposed to be my father.

The phone starts ringing again. As Dad pivots us around to face it, I know that this is it. I have to act right now-or I may not get another chance.

I grab Dad's arm and try to wrestle away his gun-even though I know it's the last thing I probably should do. But I just can't wait any longer-I can't stand being this close to him, can't stand knowing we might die any second.

"Mom, run!" I shout, as Dad's arm strains against mine, forcing the gun towards me. I feel him squeezing the trigger, then hear that deafening sound. The bullet rips into my shoulder, burning through my skin, and I scream.

Then Dad drops the gun, finally letting me go. He starts to cry. "I'm sorry, Kendra. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Before he's even finished speaking, the front door bursts open and police officers charge in. They're all wearing visors and bullet-proof vests, and they have their rifles aimed at us.

"Get away from him," one shouts to me.

I stumble away and toward them, and they grab me, pulling me to safety. Dad raises his trembling hands in the air, looking terrified. I feel a kind of pity for him-but not compa.s.sion or love.

Now someone is tearing the sleeve off my shoulder and applying pressure, then taping on a bandage while talking softly to me: "It's only a surface wound; you're going to be okay." They wrap a blanket around Mom's and my shoulders, then lead us out of the house. They take Dad out, too-in handcuffs.

It's finally over. I know I should feel relief and happiness, maybe even sadness. But I don't. I can't feel anything at all, at least not yet. The only thing left is the numbness inside me.

Outside, the sidewalks are still wet from the rain, but the sun's shining so brightly that I have to squint to see. The crowd comes swarming toward us, shoving and trying to get past the police barrier. Cameras and lights mark our way, and reporters call out our names.

I'm shaking now and close to screaming as the police officer directs me toward the ambulance, guiding me by the arm. Then a good, familiar voice calls my name, and I turn.

It's Carolyn, waving to me from the front of the crowd. I stop, the policewoman stopping with me. "That's my therapist! I need to see her."

"You need to get checked out, first; you've just been shot," the officer says.

"What I need is my therapist." I say, clutching the blanket around my shoulders and shaking even harder.

The officer must see the panic in my eyes because she nods at the cop to let Carolyn through.

I run to her, and she hugs me close. "Kendra! Oh Kendra, I'm glad you're okay!"

"Carolyn. I'm so glad you're here," I say, laughing and crying at the same time. I lean into her, my shoulder throbbing, and Carolyn holds me tighter.

Then I glance back at the ambulance. There's Mom, sitting on the ambulance's rear step, talking to the paramedics, not once even glancing my way.

Carolyn rocks me, and I close my eyes, letting everything else float away. Carolyn might never be my mother, but she gives me so much more than Mom ever has. She gives me what I need. And that makes her my mother in my heart.

Carolyn holds my head and looks into my eyes. "I was so worried about you," she whispers.

"You called the police, didn't you?" I ask.

"After what you told me, and with your father so agitated at our meeting-and then I couldn't reach you on your cell or at home-I just didn't know what else to do!"

"You saved me," I say, squeezing her tight. "That's what you did!"

Carolyn kisses the top of my head. "From what I hear, you saved yourself."

"Kendra!" Meghan calls out.

I look around, not seeing her. Then I hear grunts and complaints in the crowd as people are jostled and shoved. Meghan elbows her way up close to where we're standing "Please, could you-" I say to the officer, who looks amused as she ushers Meghan through. Carolyn lets me go, and Meghan rushes to me, turning her back to the crowd. I open my arms and she holds me-so tight I can hardly breathe.

"I was coming over to find out why you weren't in school when I saw all the cops!" Meghan says. "G.o.d, Kendra-are you all right?" I feel her rapid heartbeat against me, her worry and love so strong. I kiss her gently, then turn to Carolyn for introductions. "Carolyn, this is Meghan. Meghan, Carolyn."

They shake hands and make some awkward small talk. I watch them, feeling almost high. I'm alive-and two of the people I care about most are right here beside me.

"Are you all right?" Meghan asks again.

"I am now."

39.

"Kendra!" Mom calls from the ambulance. "They want to check you over."

I roll my eyes at Meghan and Carolyn, but Mom calls again, her voice shrill and insistent.

"I should get over there," I say.

Meghan moves closer to me. "I'm goin' along with you."

"I think that's a good idea," Carolyn says. She hesitates. "Would you like me to come, too?"

"Yes!" I say. "I mean-if you don't mind. I know it's weird, since we're not in session-"

"I'll make an exception this time," Carolyn says, smiling warmly. "It's important, and I want to be here for you."

I walk over to the ambulance, Meghan on one side, Carolyn on the other. I feel stronger and taller, just walking between the two of them.

I look over at Dad, hunched up, sitting in the back of the cop car. You won't hurt any more kids now-not if I can help it.

Dad raises his head, almost as if he hears my thoughts. I meet his gaze without flinching, and he looks away first.

A paramedic motions for me to take off the blanket, then pushes my flapping sleeve aside. He peers beneath the bandage as I stare up at the grey sky.

"I'm fine. You guys already took care of this."

"We just want to be sure. With a gunshot wound, we have to be careful that everything's all right. Do you feel any dizziness? Are you at all lightheaded?"

"No-I'm fine."

"You didn't tell me you were shot!" Meghan cries, pressing her hands to her chest.

I start to laugh; I just can't help myself. Meghan and Carolyn are staring at me, then they're laughing, too.

"I don't see what you all have to laugh about," Mom says crossly. And that makes us laugh even harder.

Carolyn wipes the tears from her eyes. "Forgive me, Mrs. Marshall. Sometimes laughter is a good release in situations like this."

Mom frowns disapprovingly, but she looks a bit less offended.

Then the police officer who's been watching us adjusts her belt. "If you're both okay, we'd like to take you down to the station for questioning."

That pretty much quells my laughter.

"Is that really necessary right now?" Carolyn asks the police officer. "Kendra's just been through a major trauma-"

"Most folks find it easier to get it over with, rather than have it looming," the policewoman says. "Besides, we're more likely to get something that will stick to the perp if we can get all the info while it's fresh in everyone's minds. The most I could give her is a few hours-but she wouldn't be able to talk with anyone during that time. We want to be sure we get her testimony, not anyone else's."

Carolyn rests her hand on my shoulder. "What do you think, Kendra? It's really up to you."

Mom purses her lips, but she doesn't say anything. She just leans her head back against the ambulance doors, and I wonder if they've given her a sedative.

"Can they come with me?" I ask, motioning toward Carolyn and Meghan.

The officer hooks her thumbs into her belt. "Were they with you when the incident occurred? Are the two of them actual witnesses?"

"No, but-"

"Then I'm afraid they can't go with you. This is strictly a police matter now."

I can't handle this. I need to cut. Need to cut so badly.

Carolyn squares her shoulders. "I'm Kendra's therapist. I had a session with Kendra first thing this morning, then a meeting with her and her parents, where I witnessed the offender's volatile behavior. I'm also the one who called you, and I'm sure I can help your case."

The officer starts to speak, but Carolyn just keeps right on talking. I almost want to laugh, seeing Carolyn steamroll over the officer. I've never seen her like this. It makes me feel protected. Safe.

"And furthermore, Kendra's mother is in no condition to give her any kind of emotional support, and Kendra will surely need it after all she's been through. I'm prepared to be there for her and to forestall any possible problems-such as panic attacks or emotional outbursts." Winking at me, she goes on: "I'll cancel my morning clients so I can be with Kendra."

The officer unhooks her thumbs from her belt, looking like she knows she's met her match. "All right, I guess we can use your account of earlier events leading up to the incident."

"I'm her girlfriend," Meghan says, gripping my hand. "And I'm not letting her go without me."

The officer shakes her head. "I'm sorry, young lady, but you'll have to meet up with her later."

Meghan's fists ball up, and she looks like she might actually punch the cop.

"Hey, it's okay," I whisper. "Carolyn'll be there. Besides, I'll really need you later. I'll call you when we're done, kay?"

"Promise?" Meghan says.

"Promise."

We hug one more time, and the officer leads us to her squad car. Mom gets in beside her, and Carolyn and I get in the back.

I wave to Meghan as the car pulls away, until I can't see her any more. Then I turn to Carolyn. "Thank you. I don't know how to say it enough-but thank you for everything today."

"That's all right," Carolyn says. "I'm glad I could be here."

I lean my head against her shoulder, and she puts her arm around me all the way to the station.

They let Carolyn sit in with me during the entire interview, through all the questioning. When the pain and fear get too bad, I just look over at her and somehow that gives me the strength to keep going.

The detective is gentle with me, backing off when the shame and terror choke my voice off or when the shadows rip through my mind. And always, Carolyn is there. "Are you willing to talk about this in court, in front of a jury?" the detective asks. "I won't lie to you; it's a difficult, wrenching process, and it's not set up to be kind to victims. Some witnesses even say it feels like being raped all over again. But I'll work to prepare you. I think you can do it; you're a very gutsy girl."

The detective looks at me over her gla.s.ses, her eyes intense. "If you're willing to testify in court, I think we can put your father away for a few years-and keep him from hurting anyone else."

That's what I want, what I've always wanted-to be safe and to make sure others are, too. I take a deep, shaky breath. "Okay."

"You sure? It won't be easy."