Given New Worlds Page 10

  They stepped from the award room into a smaller room. It had a row of computers and monitors, sound recording equipment, and cameras. Abby could almost feel the lack of resonance within the muffled walls, knowing that it was used specifically for minor editing.

  Lance began searching for what must have been his cell phone. “You check over by that shelf, I’ll look here.”

  Abby nosed around the shelf for a minute, then heard the door click behind her. She spun around, but it was too late. Lance had grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her, and slammed Abby against the wall. “What are you doing?” she asked, wondering if he was going to try to take advantage of her. It was ridiculous, in his drug-addled state, with his hands shaking like fall leaves, she would be able to overpower him in a matter of minutes. Especially with the self-defense training that Veena had provided the past several months.

  Abby’s mind went through several counter-moves, but Lance seemed to have more than a bit of training himself and reacted too quickly for Abby to get away. She continued to fight, until he spoke those words.

  “Just seeking a little… revenge, Abigail Ellwood. Just revenge.”

  DEATH

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THEY found her two hours later.

  Abby’s wrists were raw from pulling at the zip ties. One shoulder was dislocated from her position hanging on the wall in the sound room. Her red dress was hanging in bloody shreds from her body. Several ribs had been cracked, her lung was punctured, her throat damaged, and into the white skin of Abby’s back, one word had been carved.

  REVENGE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  TUBES were in Abby’s throat. Drugs lulled her system into a semi-comatose state. Once the pain began to subside and they reduced her intake of medication, lucidity set in and Abby was asked one question.

  “Did Sean Court attack you?”

  She answered that one pertinent question with a shake of her head, then drifted off into a world of nothing that stretched into months.

  And then she sat. For months she sat. No words, no communication. Only a sense of nothing.

  There was still a morsel of thought for the man she’d come to love. But the distance of his memory was expanding, and Abby had let go. She didn’t know why he was gone. Did they put him in prison anyway? Even though Abby had confirmed with one shake of her head that it hadn’t been him? Was the small movement of her neck not enough?

  She wanted to tell them, she wanted to scream at them. She wanted to inform them of who it really was. Hadn’t they done any investigating? How could they be so dumb? But Abby was the dumb one. She was the one that couldn’t talk.

  They had done a rape kit and knew that Abby hadn’t been touched, besides the beating and the strategic slices. But she felt as though she’d been violated just the same. Mom and Dad wouldn’t allow her to see pictures, they wouldn’t talk about the attack, but she was well aware of the word that had been carved into her back. Nurses whisper.

  Mom ensured her they would do all they could to erase the slices in her back, but even if every last scar would one day disappear, it would still be carved into her heart like stone.

  Moments of coherence were fleeting, but each time they surfaced, she relived each moment as if it were set on replay in her mind. And each time, she let the word that was carved into her back take hold stronger and stronger. She could feel the hate building in her; the hate that had cut her to shreds, that had destroyed her happiness, that had taken away the one that she’d loved more than any other.

  One day… she would have her revenge.

  “Today is Wednesday. We’re having peach pie for dessert tonight.”

  Mom sat next to her. She’d sat next to her every day for two months. First, at the hospital. Then at home. At times, Abby almost thought she heard words of prayer coming from Mom’s mouth. But that would be impossible. Mom didn’t know God.

  “Dr. Morton is going to be here tomorrow,” Mom said, covering up the nervousness in her voice. She was an excellent actress but couldn’t hide the sadness enveloping her as she mentioned the psychiatrist that came in to sit and do nothing for an hour while Abby stared out the window, or at the black screen of the television, or at a bare white spot on the wall. He would only sit there and ask questions and wait for answers.

  But Abby didn’t answer. She didn’t know how. She could breathe, eat, and even take a shower by herself. But she couldn’t talk, couldn’t smile, couldn’t feel. Her larynx had been damaged in the attack. The specialist had said that it should be healed enough to talk by now. It wasn’t the voice box that was broken; it was Abby.

  Just like Dr. Morton, Abby had questions. But she only wanted to know the answer to one.

  Where was Sean?

  Abby lifted the fork and stabbed it into the peach pie. She hated peach pie, but it made her mom happy when she ate it, so Abby placed the sweetness into her mouth, allowing her taste buds to saturate her mouth and provide ample viscosity for the pie to slide down her throat. Abby knew she wasn’t eating enough. The visiting nurse didn’t tell her how much weight she’d lost, and Abby didn’t ask.

  “We’re going to send you to Switzerland, sweetheart.”

  Abby didn’t even flinch. She continued to force feed herself the pie. Switzerland or Florida. What did it matter? Abby didn’t even care if she existed. Why would she care where she stayed? She finished the pie, set her fork down on the tray, and continued to stare out the window.

  “We tried to keep you safe,” Mom whispered. Abby could hear the tears in her voice. “We failed, darling. And I am so very, very sorry about that.”

  So many apologies, so much guilt. Abby knew she should reach over and comfort her mom, tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that Abby was going to get better and get over what had happened. But the truth was, Abby didn’t know if she was going to get better. Perhaps she would always be like this. No voice, no emotion - only silence.

  “Dad has a cousin in the outskirts of Bern. His name is Frank. He has a wife and two children. We think you’ll be safer there than here in the States.” Mom began sobbing while Abby focused her stare on the leaves that had finally spread their green summer covering over the spindly branches of the tree outside her window.

  It was May now. Abby should be finishing her final rotations for the semester. But instead, she sat here, alone in her own thoughts. Not even contemplating the life she would have in Bern, Switzerland.

  The life without Sean. Without hope. Without joy. Without love. If it could be called a life at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  BY June, Abby had arrived at the house of Frank and Sandra Gill. They had a six-year-old daughter named McKinleigh, whom they called Kin, and a seven-month old son named Caleb.

  Frank was a Visa advisor for the U.S. Embassy in Switzerland, and Sandra was staying at home with the children for a few more months, then would be returning to her teaching job.

  Mom had told Abby that if she started talking again, she might be able to care for Kin and Caleb. She mentioned that Frank and Sandra had very little money and could hardly afford child care.

  But Abby still couldn’t talk.

  She mostly sat on the back porch that overlooked a garden and a small grove of trees that swayed in the cool wind - the trees not minding that Abby just stared at them, not caring that she couldn’t talk, not fathoming the fact that she was broken. The trees, as God’s witnesses, only loved and accepted her as she was.

  Sandra was like the trees. She smiled whenever Abby was near, telling her she was glad that Abby had come to their house to visit. She made müesli, chicken with rice, and pizza, and didn’t complain when Abby only ate several bites before bringing her plate to the sink and returning to her chair on the patio. Sandra had also discovered that Abby could do puzzles. Occasionally, between feedings and diapers, Sandra would sit on the worn wooden chair in the family room next to Abby and fit piece after piece together. They would work in silence, until Caleb cried for at
tention, or Sandra was called away by Kin or Frank. Sometimes Kin would pretend to connect the pieces together, but usually they ended up torn and forced into each other.

  In mid-August, Kin and Sandra would be going back to school. Abby had progressed to the point where she was not only able to function by herself but could also care for Caleb. She still had yet to say a word, but Frank and Sandra were confident that she could care for him during the day. Abby had no opinion either way. Whether she cared for him, or whether she didn’t. She still could only exist.

  In the morning, Abby would prepare Kin for school while her parents showered and dressed. Caleb had a questionable schedule and usually managed to wake up during the most inconvenient times. Abby would finish preparing Kin before retrieving Caleb from his crib. If Abby’s mom were to see how she allowed Caleb to cry for five minutes or more while taking care of Kin, she would have pitched a fit, but Sandra and Frank seemed to think it was perfectly normal for a child to cry it out while waiting for his morning diaper change. After the first several days, he got used to the idea that Kin took precedence and would play happily in his crib until Abby came in, changed his diaper, and carried him to the kitchen for goodbye kisses as his parents ran out the door.

  During the day, Abby cleaned house and played with Caleb. Just like Sandra and the trees, Caleb also held no expectations for her. He laughed and cried on his own volition, not caring that Abby spoke no words. He would often crawl into her lap as she sat rocking on the back porch, wrapped in warm blankets, watching the autumn sun spread itself over the trees. He would suck his thumb and Abby would be silent.

  She didn’t think about Sean anymore. She’d trained her mind to block the thoughts as soon as they entered. She still didn’t have any details about his disappearance. Frank and Sandra never mentioned it. They didn’t own a television, which saved Abby from having to watch herself on international news stations, and Abby had yet to touch a computer, avoiding social media at all costs. She didn’t know if Sean was alive or dead. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered.

  Abby rocked and sat, rocked and sat. Caleb had fallen asleep, and his head bobbed back and forth to the rhythm of the chair. He had light orange hair, like Frank’s, but his eyes were as dark brown as Sandra’s. He had Kin’s temper, as well as the ability to sit contentedly for hours on end like Abby. He was a mix of the appearances and personalities of those around him, and Abby wondered what else he would be picking up from her.

  When the cool breeze began picking up, Abby lifted the sleeping toddler tighter into her arms. He looked up and smiled before falling back to sleep. Then, a drop fell to his face. Abby looked up at the blue sky. White clouds danced slowly across its canvas, but not one of them a threat of rain. She wiped the drop from Caleb’s soft cheek, then gasped. It was a tear.

  She walked swiftly to the living room as her own personal dam broke around her, placing Caleb on his blanket in the play-corner before dropping to her knees, allowing the unexpected tidal wave of emotion to wash over her and surround her in a depth she didn’t know could be felt without a body physically breaking apart in anguish. Thoughts rushed through her head. Sean, Mom, Dad, Veena, college, premiere night, Stacey, Lance, the sound room. The pain, the pain, the pain.

  REVENGE

  She could feel the word carved into her skin as if it were once again bleeding down her back, soaking her hair, dripping into the already red dress, now deeper red with a horror that would never go away.

  Abby sensed a slight touch on her shoulder and looked up. Caleb’s eyes looked into her own in contemplation and wonder. “Beebee,” he said. Her name. Was it his first word? Was it not a word? It didn’t matter, he’d said it for Abby and she began to feel again.

  “Caleb,” she said, her voice hoarse and unfamiliar.

  His little arms circled her neck and she cried into his soft neck, clinging as if she had no idea what else she could hold on to. Small, gentle hands tugged on the strands of her hair and it took a moment for her to realize that they were not dripping with blood down her carved back. She was safe, she was comfortable, she was loved. Loved by this little boy… unconditionally. Loved by so many around her. Caleb tugged at her hair and pursed his lips, stepping up onto his toes and placing a kiss directly on her forehead, just as Abby had seen Sandra do so many times. Just as Sean had done, back when she had been alive.

  When Sandra and Kin came home at four, Abby was still crying while Caleb played happily with his trucks along the lines of grout on the kitchen floor. Kin stood staring at Abby in confusion while Sandra raced over and lifted Abby’s hair from her damp, splotchy face.

  “Abby. What happened? Are you okay? Is Caleb okay?”

  Abby wiped at her nose with the dishtowel she’d been twisting for the past hour and looked up at Sandra. “He talked,” she said.

  Kin ran from the room in fright, as she’d never seen Abby communicate before, yet a smile broke from Sandra’s face. “What did he say,” she asked. Moisture was beginning to appear in Sandra’s eyes as well. Abby didn’t know if it was because of Caleb’s first words, or her own.

  “He said, Beebee.”

  Abby watched as Sandra nodded her head with tears streaming down her cheeks. “He loves you, Abby. We all do.”

  “But, I haven’t done anything. I’ve taken up a space in your home. I’ve eaten your food.” Her words were barely perceptible, a grainy whisper of thoughts on her tongue, but Sandra understood.

  “You are a child of God, Abby,” she placed her hand on Abby’s face. “We would have given you all of our home, all of our food, if God would have called us to do that. But, instead, he only asked us to love you. To give you peace, quiet, and comfort while he did his work in you.”

  Abby began to cry again. She thought about the woman in the hospital who had given birth to the baby with fetal alcohol syndrome, how Sean had loved the woman anyway. He hadn’t judged her, he had only loved her. It was unconditional love, true love. A searing pain swept through Abby’s body. All she could do was curl up on the floor and sob. Sandra stayed right there with her.

  Abby could hear sounds around her, Sandra telling Kin to take care of Caleb, the sound of Frank coming home from work, the noise of the stove and the kitchen faucet as dinner was prepared. Through all of it, Abby sat curled up in the corner of the kitchen, silent tears falling from her face, a towel pressed against her eyes, her nose. Until all the tears dried up.

  She sensed Frank sit next to her on the floor but didn’t lift her eyes.

  “Here’s some water. You must be pretty thirsty.”

  She took the water he handed to her and drank it in only a few swallows.

  “Sandra tells me that Caleb said your name.” Frank adjusted his legs and sat back against the cabinets. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “He said Beebee.”

  “Beebee, huh?” Frank laughed. “I like it.”

  Abby lifted her head and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize. “For everything you’ve done.”

  “No, Abby. Thank you.”

  Abby didn’t say anything. Speaking was now a foreign experience and there were no words to communicate all the things currently dusting her mind. She was feeling. Really feeling. Pain, anger, fear, and love. Emotions that she didn’t know she could have again. They were floating through her like the seeds of a dandelion, alight and waiting to be planted.

  “Thank you for letting us experience your coming back to Earth.” Frank shifted position. Abby could tell that he was getting uncomfortable on the cold tile floor. She could feel it in the ache of her bones as well but wasn’t ready to stand yet. Her heart had so recently allowed the blood to flow through her body, her nervous system allowing the nerves to connect. She needed time.

  “Sandra has some chicken up there,” Frank pointed to the counter. “Why don’t we eat some before it goes cold.”

  Abby nodded her head and Frank lifted himself off the floor, scooped some of
the chicken dish into a bowl and brought it to Abby. She lifted the fork to her lips and it exploded on her tongue with flavor. She could taste every minute detail from the mushroom sauce to the wild rice. After finishing the bowl, Frank filled it up two more times. For the first time in six months, Abby felt full. Full of food, full of emotion, and full of life.

  She watched as Frank leaned over the counter in prayer. His thumbs were pressed into his eyes and his shoulders were shaking with the same emotions that she was feeling. A sense of assurance washed over her. Abby lifted herself to her feet and walked to where Frank was standing at the counter. She wrapped her arms around his thick shoulders and he reached around to give her hand a squeeze of acknowledgement. Then Abby went to her room.

  And she slept.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  IN October every year, Frank and Sandra took a mission trip to Kenya. This year they were taking Abby. Kin and Caleb would stay in Lucerne with Sandra’s sister.

  Abby welcomed the excitement she was feeling. While there was still plenty of pain and anguish, she was willing to experience it in order to also feel the other emotions - joy and love. It would be impossible to completely recover from what had happened, but through the love of her temporarily adoptive family, she’d been able to heal in bits and pieces.

  She knew that it was God who had healed her, taken the ache of nothingness from her and washed her anew in feelings and emotion, some of it painful, some of it wonderful. Abby wondered if God was the one that had originally taken those feelings away, knowing that she needed to step out of herself, become nothing for a while, to become a new Abby - or maybe not even an Abby at all.

  During her stay with the Gills, they never addressed her by name in public, a special request from Mom and Dad. After Caleb’s first words, they all started calling her Beebee and it stuck. When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t even look like Abby anymore. She’d cut her hair to above her shoulders and it had thinned with lack of proper nutrition. Abby could see the bones around her neckline and her clothes were so loose that Mom had sent a credit card for Sandra to ‘improve her wardrobe’ before the trip to Kenya.