Put Me Back Together(74)

But he didn’t come.

As the hours passed my body began to protest. I’d been sitting with my muscles tensed for so long that when I put the bat down in my lap my fingers stayed curled. I needed water, but I didn’t want to move, sure that he was waiting somewhere nearby and the sound of my footsteps would alert him to my presence. But then, wasn’t that what I wanted?

My initial calm began to dissipate and a low-lying paranoia took its place as the night wore into the wee hours of morning. Every creak of the building, every tiny sound made me jump and grip my bat. At one point I nearly swung at Turner as he crept across the carpet. After that he smartly kept out of my way. I started furiously planning how I would handle each of my weapons, the best way to grip the lamp, how I would lunge, with the knife in one hand or both. These fantasies got more and more elaborate as I began to incorporate all the different ways Brandon might attack me. He’d probably learned all kinds of new techniques in jail, even if it was a youth jail. He was probably like an assassin now. I began to picture him wearing all black and a ski mask so he would blend in with the shadows. After that, even the shadows started to alarm me and I added them to my rounds of the room: window, shadow, door, shadow, shadow, window, shadow, hall.


Sometime around four a.m. I started to nod off from exhaustion. It was then, when my defenses were down, that the memories fell over me like a suffocating blanket. This time there was no hope of turning my thoughts away. The memories were too many and too strong and I was too weak. I could do nothing but submit to them. I could do nothing but clench my jaw against the screams and endure.

I saw the blade of Brandon’s knife against a background of green grass.

I saw little Tommy’s back as he ran ahead of me—“Race you to the train tracks, Katie!”—his white t-shirt bright against the dark trees.

I saw the look of horror on the old woman’s face as she took in the sight of me.

I saw the paramedic vomiting behind a tree.

I saw the caved in place where Tommy’s face should have been, the bloody hole that had once been his smile.

I saw blood, I saw blood, I saw blood, I saw blood, I saw blood…

Fingers gripped my own and somebody was speaking to me tensely, but I couldn’t understand the words. My hands hurt for a moment and then they were empty. But I still had my bat. I needed my bat so I could face Brandon. Because he was coming for me. He was coming anytime now.

A glass was pushed against my lips but I shoved it away. The person kept blocking the door and I didn’t like it. I needed to keep my eye on the door and the window and the other window. I needed to stay vigilant. I think I opened my mouth and said things, screamed things, but I wasn’t sure what the words were. Whatever they were, they had the desired effect. The person cleared out and I was alone again. It was better that way, anyway. Brandon wouldn’t come unless I was alone. And he was coming, I was sure of it. I’d told him to come. He would come. Any minute now.

A while later—I had no idea how long—I found myself staring down at my throbbing hands. They were red, raw, and shaking. They wouldn’t stop shaking. Someone had put a blanket over my shoulders, but I shook it off. I’d lost track of my bat but it didn’t matter. If I got the knife out of his hand I could get him before he got Tommy. I could stop him. He wasn’t that much bigger than me. It was just a knife. I could do it. I could save him.

I heard a voice that sounded like my own, crying. Was I crying? I touched my cheeks but they were dry. My tongue was dry. I wanted so much to lie down, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to save Tommy. People moved around me. Someone held my hand. I asked for my bat. I asked for my knives. I had to stay awake.

I saw Tommy running.

I saw the train tracks coming up to meet me.

I saw the knife in Brandon’s hand.

“Girl, you’re bleeding! What happened to you? What happened?”

“Race you to the train tracks, Katie!”

“Oh my God, call the police!”

“You heard him, Katie Kat. You’d better hurry now. If I get there first, who knows what might happen.”

“Did you see what happened? Did you see who it was?”

“Today’s the day we take care of business.”

“Get her cleaned up. They found something. They found a body.”

“Just like you said.”

“Oh dear God. Oh holy Jesus.”

“Just like you asked.”

“Who was it? Who did this?”

Tell me this isn’t happening.

“She’s in shock.”

Tell me it isn’t my fault.

“She knows something. Let her speak.”

It wasn’t me.

“What did she say? Did she say a name?”

It wasn’t me.

“Stupid bitch.”

It wasn’t me.

It wasn’t me.

It wasn’t me.



When he came into the room at last I had nothing left. The others scattered as he approached the couch and I started to whimper. He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom. I guessed that was where he wanted to do it. Right on the pillow he’d pierced with his knife. He always did like to cut the same place twice.

He was whispering to me, but it was as though my ears were filled with cotton.

“I always knew you’d come for me,” I said as he laid me on the bed.