Bent not Broken (342 page)

“Salem, I can’t…he…he put his hands around your throat. I have to report this.” Barry stared at me, wide-eyed. “He could have killed you.”

“But he didn’t, Barry. I could see it. That wasn’t anger; that was pain. Just give him a day to think about it. I’ll come and talk to him tomorrow.”

“I can’t let this slide, Salem,” Barry said resolutely.

I knew what would happened if Malik got written up—segregation or an extended sentence. Not to mention that Officer Harris could lose his job. I pleaded mercilessly with Barry, who wouldn’t budge in his decision.

Finally surrendering, I said softly, “I understand. Please, just don’t give Malik a hard time. He’s had a tough life. Just give him a break…for me.”

Barry nodded, knowing his hands were tied. In this case, his own job was on the line.

Just then, a medical technician knocked on my door, offering to check me out. Barry and Officer Harris quietly excused themselves. Barry softly patted me on the shoulder then stepped out of my office.

As they were leaving, I called after Barry, my voice still hoarse from the trauma, “Oh, and tell Chris thank you.”
He saved me again.

“Yes ma’am,” Barry he called back.

After I was cleared by the technician and was left alone in my office, I sank down at my desk. The tears I cried weren’t for nearly losing my life at the hands of an angry teenager; they were for the hurt and heartache Malik had been through in his life that caused him to react the way he did. God knows what that kid had been through. His chart told me enough to bring me to tears—abuse, severe neglect, shuffled around from foster home to foster home where no one really wanted him because his temper made him difficult, at best. Then one night, he broke into a local jewelry store and stole as much gold, silver, and platinum as he could fit into his pockets. They had a hard time tracking him down for that crime until he tried to pawn the diamonds off at a store a mere five miles from his foster home. It was pitiful, really; the things these kids go through. Of course, his situation was no excuse for his behavior, but most of the time those two things went hand in hand. I just hoped that one day Malik would find the right family—one that would love him and teach him, through love, the appropriate way to behave. I could hardly blame a kid who reacted with anger when it was the only reaction he’d ever known.

Those thoughts brought me full circle back to Alexis. She was so precious and innocent. I had been so hard on her in the few short months of her life. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I was too hard on her. I needed to give the kid a break. If only I could make myself feel less resentful. I was really going to make the effort. Alexis deserved that much from me.

So, I guess I needed to thank Malik. He opened my eyes.

****

Much to my dismay, I couldn’t hide the bruises on my throat. Graham glanced at them and rolled his eyes.

“What the hell happened now, Salem?”

“A run-in with a client,” I said hoarsely, offering no other explanation.

With a smug look on his face, he said, “I told you that job would be dangerous.”

He seemed far more concerned about being right than about my injury.

Folding my arms across my chest, I spat out, “I’m not quitting, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

“Jesus, Salem, what the hell is it about this job that you love so much?” he groaned.

I shook my head, realizing that this man was totally incapable of feeling empathy for anyone. “Obviously something you’ll never understand,” I scoffed. I loved those kids. I loved my job. Nothing would ever change that.

He settled down into his recliner and flipped on the television. “Whatever,” he grumbled.

****

Later that night, while I cuddled Alexis in the rocking chair, I whispered into the darkness how sorry I was. I promised her that I would change and hoped, with a tenacity I’d never felt before, that I could keep that promise to her. She was my baby. It was time I started owning that.

Then I kissed each of her closed eyelids as she slept in my arms and placed her in her crib. I tiptoed down the hall, crashing into my bed.

A few short minutes of deep, peaceful sleep came to me instantly, but not even an hour passed by before she was screaming her head off. I ambled down the hallway, scooped her up and carried her back to bed with me.
I need this night, God. Please. I need this night of sleep.
I begged to the heavens for mercy, to no avail.

Rather than enjoy a few solid hours of rest, I spent the rest of the night wrestling with Alexis to stay asleep. As soon as I’d doze off, she’d be kicking and squirming and I’d instinctively grab her leg in fear of her rolling off the bed or getting suffocated under her comatose father beside us. My mission for uninterrupted sleep failed miserably.

I was trying really hard not to hate her. Why did she have to make it so difficult?

Chapter Ten

SALEM

Graham stomped around the next morning, slamming doors while huffing and puffing. I had zero patience for his attitude.

“What’s your problem?” I snapped, when we passed each other in the hallway.

He narrowed his steel blue eyes at me. “I’m freaking tired, that’s what.”

I gawked back at him. “You’re tired?” I asked, my tone of voice seething with sarcasm.

“Yeah. Alexis is gonna have to learn how to sleep in her own bed. She flopped around all night. I barely got a wink of sleep. You can’t be bringing her to bed like that again.”

Selfish jerk
. Glaring at him, I fumed, “Right. Next time I’ll walk the halls with her all night and not let you lose one second of precious sleep.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Salem. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s exactly what you meant,” I hissed. “Ever since she’s been born, you haven’t lifted a finger to do a damn thing to help me. Try walking in my shoes for once!”

Graham groaned exaggeratedly. “Oh please. You can stop with the dramatics, Salem,” he barked. Whipping around, he stormed down the hall and out the front door. I stood there, trembling with fury.
What the hell makes him think he’s exempt from parenting?

I drank my coffee on the way to work the next morning, praying to the caffeine gods to work their magic. Before the restless night’s sleep, I had this grandiose idea that things would get better…that
I
would get better. But even the best intentions can be easily thwarted by reality. Alexis’s constant disruption throughout the night, along with Graham’s bitterness toward me that morning, stabbed like a knife through my great plans. Suddenly, I felt very alone, suffocating again.

Conveniently, Alexis slept soundly all the way to Mrs. Betty’s house. She stayed asleep while I unhooked her car seat from its base and carried her into the house. She made
not one
fucking peep the whole time Pixie and Trixie, the matching Shih Tzus, sniffed her and licked her toes. She enjoyed her peaceful slumber while I silently cursed her in my mind.

****

Sitting in the silence of my car just outside my office window, I watched the dreary sky drop drizzling rain on my windshield.
I can’t do this. I can’t live like this. I feel like I’m about to lose my shit on someone if I don’t get at least three hours of uninterrupted sleep.
I washed the last bite of my protein bar down with the final sip of my coffee. That’s when I caught a glimpse of the answer to my prayer out of the corner of my eye—the knife Graham had bought me shortly after I’d gotten the job at Fairbainks. Graham had insisted on me carrying something to defend myself if I ever got into a
situation
…his words, not mine. I chuckled. Little good it did me to have a knife that I wasn’t even allowed to carry into the building. I had tossed the knife into the side pocket of my car door with never any intentions on needing it. Until today.

With that knife I could have ended it right then and there. I could have made it all go away. I could go to sleep forever and never be disrupted again. The glinting metal beckoned me, and I couldn’t help but reach into the door pocket for it.

Turning the knife over in my hand, I examined the beauty of the stainless steel handle. I flipped open the blade, eyeing the deliciously sharp beveled edge. I didn’t intend to kill myself, so what would be the harm in just touching the knife to my skin?

I considered how easy it would be. With one hard swipe across my wrist, it would all be over, but I wasn’t ready to go that far. Placing the edge of the blade against the delicate skin of my wrist, I felt the urge to slide it gently across my skin, curious to see what it felt like.

Would it hurt? Would it sting? Would be quick and painless?

Would it bleed a lot? Get all over my jacket? Make a big mess?

Would I even care?

I wasn’t sure about any of that. I just knew that I needed to feel something—
anything
. I needed to give life to the pain I endured deep inside. I needed hard proof of the cankerous emotions that festered in my soul.

With a controlled flick of my wrist, I instantly felt the white hot burn from the blade as it sliced ever so slightly into my skin. Not enough to do any real damage, but just enough to give release to the ache in my heart. God, it felt so good. With every pulse of blood that leaked out, my emotional pain slipped away. Adrenaline coursed through my body as I laid the knife in my lap and smeared the blood across my skin.

My heart pounded in my chest. It was the first time in months that I’d felt truly alive. Knowing the restraint I’d used in barely piercing my skin gave me a sense of control over my life, while the stinging pain gave me a reason to cry—a real reason to shed tears uncontrollably—until my tears ran dry and my head pounded from the dark, emptiness that was still lingering inside of me.

And that’s when I realized that I really didn’t feel any better.

I knew I had to get my mind right before I headed through the doors for work. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d just done. They’d send me straight to a psych ward. I might lose my job. Quickly grabbing a napkin and dabbing the blood, I jerked the sleeve of my shirt down to hide my secret.

God, I’m so selfish. I could never really kill myself. What would happen to Alexis? I’m a mother, for Christ’s sake. My life isn’t just about me anymore.

That revelation was amazing and devastating at the same time. I had a child that depended on me and needed me to be there for her, but at the same time, by creating a life I destroyed a life. Everything I knew about my life before Alexis had been ripped away from me because the moment she was born, everything changed.

My life isn’t just about me anymore…dammit.

I folded the knife and threw it back into side pocket.
What was I thinking?

****

Later that morning, I sat at my desk, softly tracing the wound on my arm. I was a wreck…a sleep-deprived, maniacal wreck. No amount of makeup concealer could hide the dark circles below my eyes. I knew I was on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown.

What the
hell
was I thinking?

I didn’t hear him open the door. I didn’t see him standing there. I had no idea how long he’d been watching me.

Chris’s voice cut through the silence. “What happened?”

I instantly jerked the sleeve of my shirt down and pulled my hand off my desk, lowering it out of sight.

A momentary flicker of awareness crossed his face. He stared at me, suspicious. “What happened?” he repeated. The rasp in his voice was startling.

“I…I…” I couldn’t formulate a lie fast enough. My worst fear of someone finding out was coming true, and the guilt was written all over my face. I gulped.

“Mrs. Honeycutt, did you….?” He was stunned, unable to finish his question. His chest rose and fell, shallow with realization. He stared at me with scared, wide eyes. Desperately seeking a solid answer, he asked more firmly, “Did you do that?”

I couldn’t lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth either. I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I didn’t answer him right away, I could tell that he knew by his expression of horror. My gaze abruptly dropped to the floor, hanging my head in shame.

Why did he have to walk in? Why did I do something so stupid?

I heard soft steps approach me. Before I could react, Chris was by my side peering up at me as he knelt down beside my office chair. My eyes stayed glued to the floor, my guilt a constant thump in the pulse of my neck.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to coax the words out of me. He only placed his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. I squeezed my eyelids shut, unable to shake the look of fear that came over his face when he’d realized what I had done.

Without warning he gripped my hand, reaching out to me as if I were a lifeboat in a treacherous sea. My heart raced in my chest. Rapid, shallow breaths made me feel faint as he gently slid the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow and peered at the wound. I gulped harder, wanting to scream, wanting to yank my arm away from him, but I didn’t. I kept still. I felt exposed. I felt ugly, and I deserved it. I did this to myself.

I glanced up at him as he studied my injury. His eyes were glassy.
Why would Chris cry for me? Did he really care that much?

“Oh god, Mrs. Honeycutt,” he whispered, panic-stricken.

I didn’t understand his desperation. It addled me, yet it drew me in. I wanted to know why. I wanted to comprehend it.

His voice trembled with suppressed emotions as he said softly, “Please don’t. I need you.”

The lump in my throat doubled in size, and my heart ached. My head swirled with so many thoughts and feelings that I could barely decipher one from the next—fear, regret, compassion, sorrow, anger, empathy. The violent tempest that was whirling inside of me wanted out while I was using all my strength to keep it in.

I shook my head, conveying my promise with my eyes. “Never again,” I whispered, my voice barely audible through my tears. “I promise.”

Chris nodded, unable to speak, but I could see the truth in his three little words, declaring how much he needed me. It was all there, and I didn’t understand it. But I knew I needed him too.