Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(48)

“Are you Malcolm?” one of them asked.

“Yeah.” I looked over at the blackened mess that sat right in front of the steps to the porch.

“She’s all yours,” the other one said, guiding Ginger over to me.

She smiled when she saw me. “Malcolm! What brings you by?”

“The cops called.” They threw me a wave as they climbed into their car.

“Oh…they were nice. Put me in handcuffs. That was exciting.”

I led her into the house, having to support most of her weight. I had no idea where anything was. In the times I’d been over, I’d always stayed in the great room area. I saw a trail of clothes in the hall, I followed it toward the light. I stopped when I saw the destruction. Feathers, fabric, ripped and torn stuff lay everywhere. The comforter, pillows, the entire bed had been massacred. More clothes were on the ground—his clothes.

“I’m gonna be sick!” she pushed off me, stumbling toward the bathroom.

With my help, she made it to the toilet just in time. After emptying the contents of her stomach, Ginger slumped down against the wall. I walked over and turned on the shower. The water turned brown when it hit the shower floor, washing away a fine coating of dust that seemed to have settled there. That could only be the case if it’d been unused. I looked back at Ginger, who remained in the same spot.

I tested the temperature to make sure it was warm enough before going to retrieve her.

“Come on, Ginger, a shower will help.” Grabbing her arm, I put it around my neck to give me extra leverage to lift her without injuring her.

“You just tryin’ to see me naked.”

I turned my head away from the foul stench of her breath. “No, baby, I’m not. I’ll even turn my back while you undress.”

Once I made sure she was somewhat steady on her feet, I did as promised and turned my back. I heard her struggling, but she managed to undress and step into the shower. Not wanting to leave her unattended, I slid down, sitting with my back against the wall next to the shower. I dropped my head into my hands. Guilt. Guilt consumed me. I fucked up. I’d been selfish, and stupid, thinking I could be some sort of magic fix to all her problems.

“Fuck!” I whispered harshly to myself.

I threw it all out the window. All the advice I’d been given, all the research I’d done, all of it ignored. I was better than this. I was supposed to be better than this.

“Ginger?”

“Hm?”

“Just checking to make sure you’ve not passed out.”

The water shut off. I jumped up, looking around for a towel. Two bright orange ones sat hanging neatly on the towel bar. I grabbed one, giving it a good pop to get off some of the dust. I held it up in front of my face just as she stepped out. I released it when I felt the tension of her tugging at it, and turned my head to keep from seeing her.

“Thank you.”

I turned in her direction. She brushed the longer, wet strands of her hair back out of her face. She looked...vulnerable. It was her, the real her. The one she’d tried so hard to hide from us all.

“No problem. Your clothes are…?”

“Upstairs.”

She walked past me. The towel dipped in the back just enough to reveal a tattoo on her shoulder, but more shockingly a long, ragged scar down her back.

“What the hell?”

She’d stopped, standing in front of a vanity. I watched her in the mirror. She clutched the towel tightly with one hand, but the other ran along the marble countertop.

“I still see the blood. Even though he cleaned everything up, I still see it. I know it’s there, stained deep in the marble. It’s there. It’ll always be there. Like it’ll always be in me.”

I frowned. Blood? That bastard was responsible for the scar on her back.

“I sat here, taking the bobby pins from my hair. He walked in, loosening his tie. He smiled at me and started helping me remove the pins. ‘You looked nice tonight, Ginger.’ I...I didn’t even get a chance to react.” Her hand went to the back of her head. “I didn’t even realize what had happened. I just remember there was pain, the stool….he’d knocked the stool from under me, and held me up by my hair. The counter was so cold when he pressed my face against it.”

Her hand continued massaging the back of her head. My mind tried to play catch up as she talked.

“‘I know what you were doing, Ginger. I saw how you looked at him, but you’re mine. You’ll always be mine Ginger,’” she said in angry whispers.

I’d never said those things to her. I’d never talked to her like that. But she wasn’t repeating words I’d spoken to her. It was him. Without warning, she kicked the small seat that was under the vanity. It scraped loudly across the floor before coming to a stop right in front of me.

“‘You need to be reminded of what’s at stake, Ginger!’” she hissed.

She fingered the scar, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. I listened in horror, praying to myself this story wasn’t going where I feared it was. My ears were hot, pulsating. My stomach twisted. My hands balled into fists at my side.

Tears ran down her face. She gripped the towel tighter. “He...he started cutting me out of the dress. I...I didn’t even know where the knife came from. There was so much blood. And pain. I tried...I tried to block it out...but...but he...he…the grip he had in my hair was so tight. The way he pulled my neck back. I cou...I couldn’t close my eyes. I...I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t.” She started to hyperventilate.