“Why do you care? I’m not your problem.”
“Because if it were Rochelle and she couldn’t come to me, I’d want someone to step up and do the same. I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix...” I stop.
“I’m damaged goods. I have been since the day I was born. My mother hates me because having me gave her stretchmarks. They hate me yet they love to control me.”
God damn these pieces of shit have done a number on her.
“You’re not damaged, pretty girl. Maybe a little bruised but don’t let anyone ever make you think differently.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better. That’s such a thing a good dad would say, but you aren’t my father. I don’t look at you that way.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
I let the conversation end there.
Chapter Six
The truck rolls to a stop outside of a quaint white sided house. “Wait here,” James tells me, so I stay put.
An older woman exits the front door and meets him on the cement steppingstones leading to the porch. She looks like a grandmother type. Silver hair styled in curls tight to her scalp. He greets her with a kiss to each cheek, and she pats him on the shoulder as she glances toward the truck at me.
James turns around and motions me to get out. I don’t want to, but I trust him. He’s the only person I can trust.
“Lex, this is an old family friend.”
She gives him a pointed look. “Who you calling old? Call me Anna.”
“Nice to meet you,” I lie through my teeth. She may be the nicest lady in the world, but right now I don’t want to be around anyone other than James. He makes me feel safe.
“Lily is out at the barn.”
“You go with Anna. She’ll take good care of you. I’ll catch up in a bit.” He stalks off before I can ask who Lily is.
“I understand yo
u’ve been through an ordeal.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m comfortable discussing this with you.”
“Of course not.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me into her house. I follow the woman into the living room. The décor is far from what I expected. I guess I expected the inside to look like my grandma’s house. Old lace doilies, pictures, and knickknacks. Big fluffy pillows and fuzzy blankets are thrown over bean bag type chairs that form a circle. Some are occupied by other young women. Some don’t acknowledge me at all while others stare at me as though they know every dirty detail and it hits me. The pain in their eyes and worn on their long faces. Chill bumps fan up and down my arms. They know because my story is their story. I suck in a breath and fight back the tears threatening to spill.
“In here.” Her hand moves to the small of my back and she guides me into a private exam room. “Have a seat up here.” She pats the table. “I’m gonna take a sample of your blood and urine to run some simple test.”
I sit quietly as she sterilizes her hands and puts some gloves on to take a few vials of blood. I look away. The sight of my own blood conjures images I don’t want to remember.
“I’m gonna ask you to step into the bathroom and pee in this cup.”
I nod, slide off the table, and accept the cup.
The bathroom is small and serves its purpose. I hurry to get the whole thing over with. The sooner I can leave the better. I finish up and place the cap on the cup and leave it on the tray that sits on the back of the toilet.
I return to the exam room and fold my arms over my chest. “What is this place?”
“Lily’s Hope. We’re a private center for women who’ve been the victim of abuse. You don’t have to share your story if you aren’t ready, but I need you to fill out this form and be as honest as you can so I know how best to serve you.” Anna opens a drawer and takes out a clipboard that already has the form and a pen attached to it.
“How do you know James?”
“Lily is his sister. She founded this place years ago.”