Lover of My Dreams (10 page)

She looked out at the people that they passed and sighed tiredly. She was so glad she was on her way home. A coldness settled within her body as she realized how lucky she was to have gotten away from Richard when she had. The more she thought about it the more anxious she became. She hoped she would be able to get home before she fell apart. She couldn’t wait to take a long, hot shower and scrub the filth of Richard’s act from her body.

She kept her head down as the doorman opened the cab door for her. She made her way into the hotel and headed toward the elevator, grateful that the lobby wasn’t very busy. She entered the elevator and nearly plastered herself against the left wall, as far away from the three other people in the elevator as she could. She reached forward and pushed the button for her floor then leaned back against the wall to avoid contact with anyone. She looked at the floor, then up at the control panel and found her vision blurring as she looked up at the lights that flashed each floor number. If she could just get to her room before she lost control of her emotions.

The elevator door finally opened to her floor and she stepped out and made her way through the hallway. Her hands were shaking as she opened her purse to remove her key card. It took three swipes of the card before she was able to open the door. She pushed the door shut behind her, flipped the extra security lock, and walked directly to the bed to pull open her suitcase that she had left there.

Unpinning the dress, she pulled it and the strapless bra from her body. She reached into the suitcase to grab a regular bra and her maroon sweatshirt. She was careful as she put on her bra, gasping in pain as it rubbed against the bite marks on her breasts. She pulled the soft sweatshirt over her head, making sure that the precious gold chain was safely tucked inside of it.

Her body ached but she forced herself to continue changing. She pulled off her delicate high-heeled gold sandals then carefully peeled off her nylons and underwear. She threw everything into the suitcase without regard and pulled out a fresh pair of underwear and her comfortable pair of jeans. Dressing quickly, her mind was set only on getting out of the hotel as quickly as possible. She grabbed her socks and sneakers and hurriedly put them on, finding some sense of calm as she performed the ritualistic routine of getting dressed in the clothes that matched her true nature.

She walked into the bathroom and retrieved all of her makeup and personal items. Grabbing her empty garment bag as she walked toward the bed, she dropped everything beside her suitcase. Folding the garment bag into a small square, she laid it on the bottom of the small suitcase, then tossed her toiletries in beside the clothes she had every intention of throwing away once she got home. Taking out her casual denim shoulder bag from the suitcase, she transferred all the items from her gold purse into it. Pulling out her hairbrush and hair tie, she brushed her hair carefully and pulled it back into a ponytail at the crown of her head. Pushing the brush back into her casual purse, she zipped it closed and set it aside then zipped her overnight bag closed and set it down on the floor.

She checked out via the video checkout, picked up her briefcase and suitcase, and settled the strap of the purse across her chest. She left the room without a backward glance, made her way to the elevator, down to the lobby, out the front door of the hotel, and out into the busy street. She was glad the doorman hailed a cab for her quickly and she didn’t have to speak to him. She didn’t want to have to speak to anyone.

The ride to Grand Central was a nerve-wracking one for her. She just wanted to board the train and go home. Once at the station, she paid the cabby, pulled herself out of the cab as best she could considering how much she was hurting, and efficiently melded into the throng of people that always populated the bustling train station.

Despite the heat of the summer night, she was chilled to the depths of her bones. She was glad she that had packed her warm sweatshirt. She felt a sense of comfort in the casual clothes that she wore and was able to put aside the events of the evening as she concentrated on walking quickly toward the platform to board the train home. She sat in the last seat of the last car, placed her bag between the wall of the train and her left leg, leaned her left cheek against the window, and closed her eyes for a moment at the pure pleasure of it. The coolness of the glass eased the sting of her injury somewhat.

Her breathing slowed and she calmed considerably as the train moved away from the City. She opened her eyes and looked out into the blackness of the tunnel. She felt numb. Her mind was racing, but she found that she was pretty calm. She should be upset that she couldn’t feel anything, but she wasn’t.

The memory of Richard’s words was seared in her brain, but she couldn’t bring up any emotions to react to them. It was better that way. She couldn’t deal with the thought of him or what he had just done to her any more tonight anyway. What she concentrated on instead was the fact that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. She was in control of her life and her future. She had always been in control in the past and Richard’s abuse was not going to change that.

She closed her eyes once again and settled back in her seat, letting the motion of the train soothe her. She knew it was impossible but she prayed that the motion would rock her to sleep.

The two hour trip to New Haven seemed endless. The viciousness of the attack was clear in her mind, and her body was feeling the effects of it. Not only was she physically suffering, but mentally she was running the events over and over in her mind, unable to rest, trying to think through what she might have done to avoid the whole thing.

When the train finally pulled into the New Haven terminal she was experiencing a full-fledged panic attack. She tried to breathe slowly to will away the tightness in her chest and was only mildly successful. Pushing herself to get through it, she exited the train as quickly as she could, walked quickly through the silver tunnel walkway, and made her way to the parking garage down the street from the terminal. She walked up to the second level, found her car, and settled herself quickly behind the wheel, quickly locking the car doors. The ride home would be nearly forty-five minutes. She prayed that she could hold it together for the duration of the trip.

She paid the parking attendant as if by rote then pulled out of the garage and headed toward the highway to go home. She drove safely and methodically, finding herself outside her home before she realized it. She pushed the button on her garage door opener, pulled the car into its place, and closed the door behind it. She made her way into her home through the connecting doorway and punched the code into the security system after shutting the door behind herself. She was so glad to be home.

She dropped her bag onto the floor of her kitchen and went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. She held the cold bottle to her right cheek briefly, then her left, and leaned forward on the counter to steady herself. Reaching forward, she picked up the bottle of ibuprofen on the counter, took off the cap with some difficulty, damning the children’s safety cap in frustration. She popped two pills and drank the cold water quickly. Everything about her, body and soul, ached. She hoped the medicine would help.

She turned to head toward her bedroom when the blinking light on her answering machine caught her eye. There were two messages. She reached forward to push the play button, noticing that her hand was still shaking. The machine beeped and her cousin Roy’s voice filled her kitchen.

“Okay, Rache, I got your message. You don’t want to stay with me and Paulette, and you don’t want to stay with my mom.” His voice sounded as if he were smiling. “The campground you wanted to know about is pretty filled up right now. I think you should try the San Isabel National Forest Campground near Twin Lakes. The name of it is Parry Peak. It’s not as fancy as the other campgrounds, but you’ll be able to get some peace and quiet there. I’ll be looking for you on my morning rounds. I’ll expect you in about a week. You have my cell and home number if you need me in the meantime. Paulette said to call her while you’re driving. She wants to catch up with you without me being there to interrupt—as if I would interrupt you two when you start gabbing. Where do you think she got that idea? Be careful, cousin. Love you.”

Rachel smiled weakly and reached forward to pick up the water bottle. Her hand froze as her machine beeped and she heard the voice on the second message. It was Richard’s.

“The next time I see you, I’m going to finish what I started, bitch,” his angry voice echoed across her empty kitchen.

Rachel felt her heart pounding against her chest. She wanted nothing more than to erase the message and erase the night from her life, but she had to stay strong and stop Richard’s continued abuse of her. Very slowly, she reached forward and pushed the button to save the message. She would give it to the police.

She wanted to wait to call them in the morning. It was late and she needed to clean up and get some rest. She rubbed her temple tiredly. Her head was really beginning to pound. She was exhausted, but she knew that she should report Richard’s threat. Picking up the phone, she rested it on the counter as she searched her purse for the card that Officer Louise Ward had given her.

The phone call was short and to the point. She was glad that she was able to talk directly to Louise. Louise filled out the report as she talked to her and told Rachel to save the message for evidence. After one more word of caution and encouragement, Louise told her to take care of herself and thanked her for calling to inform them of Richard’s threat. It would serve to strengthen their case against him.

“Take care of yourself, Rachel,” Louise said gently.

“I will,” Rachel said tiredly. “Thank you for all of your help today, Louise.” At Louise’s mumbled acceptance and soft words of good night, Rachel smiled and disconnected the call.

She leaned against the counter and reached out to unplug the phone. She would call to change her number in the morning. Thankfully, Richard didn’t have her address. He had never even asked what city she lived in. He only knew that she lived in Connecticut.

She walked through the kitchen and the living room to go to her bedroom. The soft pink walls and burgundy coverlet on her bed helped to soothe her nerves. Her bedroom always made her feel comforted. It was soft and feminine and satisfied her basic need to be pampered. She turned on the overhead chandelier and the soft light sparkled against its hanging glass teardrops.

She made her way into her bathroom and began to peel off her clothes, careful to remove Joanna McCoy’s gold chain and place it gently on top of the counter. She stood naked before the mirror that ran the width of the left wall. It was hard to believe that she was the woman who stared back at her. The right side of her face was swollen and purple. The left side wasn’t much better. Teeth marks marred her breasts. Although the skin wasn’t broken, it was bruised, already a purple color, and sore to the touch.

“Oh, God,” she whispered out loud.

Sickness overcame her and she ran to the toilet, barely making it in time. Her body was wracked with spasms as she heaved time after time until she was totally devoid of strength and her stomach muscles screamed in protest. Silent tears mixed with moans consumed her as her emotions were finally allowed to be released.

It was a while before she could move. When she did, she was weak and completely spent. She used the counter to steady herself as she stood on shaky legs and made her way to the sink. She brushed her teeth methodically, determined to remove the taste of bile and fear from her mouth. Turning off the cold water, she grabbed for the hand towel and wiped at her mouth weakly.

She turned and slid open the delicately etched glass panel to her shower, stepped inside, and turned on the water. When it was warm enough, she turned on the overhead spray and stepped forward into the hot cascading water. She stood there silently, letting the heat run over her and through her.

The warmth of the water slid down across her shoulders and onto her back as she leaned against the side of the shower stall and cried. The tears came slowly at first then rushed forward, coming out in great gasps accompanied by great sobs that were ripped from deep within her. She didn’t know how long she cried. By the time the tears stopped flowing, her throat hurt and she felt such incredible weakness she could barely remain standing.

She picked up her shampoo and began to wash her hair. Someone once told her that completing routine tasks helped get you through tough times. She scrubbed her hair and rinsed it, not really thinking about anything. She poured a blob of conditioner into her hand and rubbed it thoroughly through her hair. Reaching forward, she picked up the washcloth and the bar of soap from the ledge and lathered the cloth until it was foaming. Putting the soap back in the dish, she started at her arms and scrubbed her body thoroughly. She wanted to wash Richard’s touch from every inch of her skin. Although she was gentle, the pain of her abused body screamed out at her.

She leaned back into the warmth of the shower, trying to relax under the steady spray as it washed away the soap and the conditioner. She was thankful that Richard hadn’t completed what he had intended to do. She was proud of the strength that she had displayed to defend herself. But she questioned herself as well.

Maybe she shouldn’t have gone to the police. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone to the hospital. She was filled with conflicting thoughts. Even though she knew she had done the right thing by reporting the attack, she wondered if she should have just left without calling the police. Everything played over and over in her mind. The thoughts pounded in her head until she was sure she would vomit again. Her head ached worse than her body, if that were even possible.