Breaking the Silence (17 page)

He struck her again, this time in the stomach, and she felt her breath jerk out of her body, which was strange because she didn’t breathe in her belly.

Fight back!
a voice in her head screamed.
Do something!
Jenny obeyed, scratching and kicking and trying to bite, frantically trying to remember moves from the long-ago self-defense class she had taken in high school. She opened her mouth to scream but couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to make more than a rasping croak.

A lucky flail of her arm knocked her hand against his head and she grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him toward her and head-butting him, hard. She felt a crack—his nose?—against her forehead and heard him swear. The grip on her arm loosened and she yanked away, dazed from her own blow to the head.

Go, go,
go
!
The voice in her head was yelling again.
A good voice to listen to
, she decided dazedly, stumbling toward where she thought the stairs were—just four stairs and she’d be in her house.

She ran into her plastic recycling bin, bouncing off it and hitting the ground. She scrambled to her hands and knees, groping for the edge of the stairs that led to the safety of a solid, locking door. She hit something with her fingers—there! The first step was under her hand. Her breath sobbing from her lungs, Jenny half crawled, half dragged herself up the stairs.

A hand fisted in her hair and jerked her head back just as Evan’s body hit hers, flattening Jenny beneath his weight, the hard edges of the steps gouging into her breasts and belly and thighs. He shoved her head forward, slamming it into the edge of the top stair.

“Bitch!” he spit out, his voice stuffy from blood. “Fucking bitch!” He slammed her head down again. Jenny actually saw stars, floating pinpricks of light, and wondered at it for a second.
The cartoons are right
, she thought, still dazed from the last blow.

Wake up!
screamed the militant voice in her head, the one that kept her moving, fighting. She started struggling again, kicking backward, trying to get her hands beneath her to buck him off. He laughed at her efforts, using his weight to press her down, yanking her hair to hear her pained gasps.

Jenny couldn’t dislodge him—she was trapped.

She had always considered herself a strong woman, had imagined that if she ever was attacked, she would keep her head, fight him off, outwit her assailant with a clever ploy like some fucking Charlie’s Angel. Instead, here she was, trapped under Evan, a guy she had always considered something of a weenie, fighting with all her strength—and she was helpless, not even able to pull in enough breath to scream.

A wave of rage and hysteria flooded her and she fought with an extra surge of power, managing to elbow Evan in the stomach. The sharp joint buried itself in the soft flesh of his belly, driving the air from him with a whoosh.

Now go!
the voice commanded, the Amazon in her head who was obviously determined to keep her alive. Bucking her body hard, she felt him slide backward until only her legs were pinned. She kicked with renewed strength, pulling her body forward with her hands, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth landing. Jenny felt one of her nails break and tear but she dismissed the small pain.

Almost there, almost free!
she thought but then he was on her again, grabbing her upper arms and flipping her onto her back.

She saw him every day at the office but his face was almost unrecognizable to her now, savage and blood-smeared. His lips were drawn back in a snarl and blood, black in the dim light filtering through the small garage windows, had streaked his teeth.

“Think you can just
dismiss
me, you fucking cunt?” he hissed, spit and blood spraying her face, stinging her eyes. “Tell
me
no and then open your legs to the next muscle-bound pretty boy?”

Jenny was still fighting, trying to pull up her legs so she could knee him in the groin, but he flattened his legs against hers and she didn’t have enough leverage to do more than bump against him.

“You’re nothing!” Evan shook her, the back of her head hitting the landing. She scratched whatever she could reach—his arms, his chest, his sides—snapping at him with her teeth like a trapped shark, mindless in the need to free herself. “You’re just a fat fag hag—you’re
nothing
!”

Jenny met his eyes, gleaming in the dark. “Why do you want me then, you cowardly little fuck?” she panted, terror and rage and pain smashing together inside her until she couldn’t tell what was what.

“I don’t. Not to
keep
,” he answered, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them above her head, holding them with one hand. With his other, he reached between them.

Oh God
, Jenny thought, realization striking as she tried to strain away from him.
He’s unzipping his pants!
She cursed her skirt—why hadn’t she worn slacks today?

But she knew why. Knew that, after waking up with Will, she had felt soft, feminine. She had dressed in her favorite gray skirt and a soft pink sweater set and—oh fuck—stockings! She hadn’t wanted to wear practical pantyhose, she had wanted to wear stockings—but for Will, not for Evan! Not to make it easier for this asshole to rape her!

She fought him with renewed strength, twisting against him and rearing up to sink her teeth into his cheek. Evan screamed, jerking his head back, but Jenny held on, feeling the hot blood run down her chin, taking a vicious satisfaction in his pain.

He let go of her wrists and used both hands to pry her jaw open, pulling his face free. He held his cheek with one hand and backhanded her across the face with the other. Jenny was stunned for a few seconds, just long enough for Evan to slam her hands above her head, wrapping a handful of hair around his palm, sticky with blood, before seizing her wrists with the same hand.

When she tried to move, her hair held her captive, pinning her head to the landing. His hands were shoving up her skirt, ripping her panties, and her brain skipped back and forth between Evan and Will—lying on the stairs, tearing away her underwear. Evan’s actions were a perversion of what she and Will had done, a twisted parallel that made what was happening even more terrible, more surreal.

She felt his erection against her, shocking her back into the reality that this was actually happening—Evan’s cock was against her leg, he was going to rape her and she could not do anything to stop it. The horrific unfairness of this battered her, even as she continued to twist and kick, her hair pulling jaggedly at her scalp as she bowed her body. He tried to push into her, the blunt intrusion shoving against her clamped muscles—Jenny could finally scream.

Light flooded her eyes and Jenny thought for a second that she had died or passed out. She heard a roar and Evan was suddenly gone, lifted away, thrown across the garage into her car, bouncing off and tumbling to the concrete floor. He scrambled up, weaving as he stood, and ran jerkily for the opening garage door, crouching low to escape beneath the slowly rising door.

Will vaulted over the railing after him but he hesitated at a small noise from Jenny and turned back toward her, his face fierce and pale in the overhead light. He moved toward her slowly, then faster, falling against the stairs just like she had minutes before. He crawled up the steps to her, scrambling to reach her.

Jenny had curled onto her side. Rosie was licking her face, whining and licking. Will pulled her into his arms, clutching her hard against him, muffling the continuous sound she was making, a low moan that went on and on. Will pressed her head against his chest, his hand wrapped around her skull, feeling wetness soak through his shirt. It took him a moment to realize that it was blood. His other hand ran over her back and arms, as far as he could reach down her legs, feeling for injuries.

She jerked at his touch but then folded herself into him. They pressed against each other, clutching, trying to get so close as to be inside the other’s skin. Will rocked her, not realizing that he was repeating, “Not Jenny. Not Jenny. Not Jenny. Not Jenny,” as she keened low in her throat and Rosie leaned close against their sides, the three of them a broken huddle of skin and hair and blood and fur and frantically beating hearts.

Neither Will nor Jenny heard the hum of the car engine, the squeal of brakes, the double thud of a large object hitting the hood of a car and then the pavement. They didn’t hear the teenage driver scream, sobbing, “Oh God, mister, are you okay? Are you okay?” They didn’t hear the babble of the gathering neighbors or the approaching sirens.

They didn’t hear anything except the sound of their own hearts, their own breathing, Jenny’s soft keening and Will’s frantic muttering, until the police officers gently pried them apart.

When Jenny woke at the hospital, the first thing she saw was Will. He was sitting in a chair by the bed, watching her, those light, light blue eyes steady although bloodshot.
He has his stubble again
, she thought, almost smiling.

Just that slight movement of her mouth pulled painfully at her cut lip and her hand came up to touch it. It was swollen and sore. She left it to investigate the rest of her features gingerly with her fingertips. Except for a throbbing lump on her forehead, her face seemed relatively intact. Her head felt like it had been used as a soccer ball though—it hurt in so many places that she couldn’t pinpoint the source of the pain.

Will leaned forward, reaching to touch her, but he pulled his hand back at the last minute, as if he was afraid that he would hurt her. Jenny caught his hovering hand in hers and brought it to her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered and winced. Talking didn’t feel so great on her lip either. He stared at her, scowling fiercely like a child trying not to cry, and then tipped his forehead to her chest. He barely touched her but Jenny flinched—she definitely had some bruises, she realized—and Will immediately jerked his head up, his expression stricken.

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he tried again.

She shrugged a little and then stopped when her muscles protested.
Maybe just not moving at all would be a good idea
, she thought.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I’m just a little sore.”

“You have a concussion.” He watched her as if her head would fall off and roll away at any minute, which she was pretty sure would actually be a relief.

“Figured that,” Jenny said. “Since my head feels like a throbbing balloon and I can remember just bits and pieces of last night after…I mean when…” She stared hard at the wall behind Will, shoving the rising panic back. Taking a deep breath, she met Will’s eyes again. “After you arrived, I mean.”

Will nodded. “Is that the worst?” he asked, looking at the lump on her forehead.

She shrugged again and winced. She really had to stop doing that.

“From the stairs?”

“No.” Jenny stopped herself from shaking her head just in time. Her head hurt enough just staying still. “His nose.”

Will looked confused.

“Head-butt,” she elaborated, trying to keep her tone light, but the images were flashing in her brain. She shoved them back.

“Brave girl.” Will kissed the hand he still held.

Jenny looked away again. Brave? Hah. She didn’t think bravery was stumbling around her garage, not even able to scream in her terror.

They were quiet for a minute.

“Cops want to talk to you,” Will finally said.

“Shit.”

He almost smiled but sobered quickly. “The car killed him.”

Jenny stared at her battered hand, the bandage over her torn nail.

“I should have been faster,” Will said, his voice rough with guilt. “I got to your house and turned some lights on, looking for you. I knew something was wrong right away, but I thought maybe you had planned something, that you were going to surprise me…I don’t know.” Will blushed, looking down at their clasped hands. “I should have been faster. I should have known—”

Jenny squeezed his hand a little. “How could you have known?” she asked.

He just frowned harder and shook his head. “I heard noises, a thump, so I walked down the hallway. I was standing right at the door to the garage when you screamed.” Will face was haunted, his eyes filled with horror, as if he was still hearing her scream.

“I opened the door. It felt like I was in a nightmare where I was moving in slow motion, you know?” He glanced at her.

Jenny nodded.

“And then I saw you, saw him. I was fumbling for a light switch—I must have hit the garage door opener. He ran out, right in front of a car.”

“Good!” Jenny spat. “I don’t care. Fucking asshole! I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!” She was crying, harsh sobs that squeezed her bruised body painfully but she couldn’t stop. Will reached to hold her but Jenny pushed him away, turning onto her side away from him, her chest convulsing with each ragged breath. He patted her, small touches to her arm, her hip, her hair. She swatted at him a few times, knocking his hand away. Finally she went still, exhausted, sucking in hard, shuddering breaths. Will’s hand tentatively returned and he touched her arm with his fingertips, just holding them against her lightly.

Jenny grabbed his hand and Will jerked as if expecting her to smack him again, but she pulled his hand to her chest and hugged it to her, circling her body around it. Eventually she fell asleep, still holding Will’s hand captive.

Jenny did not want to remember what had happened and found herself irrationally angry with the police officers and their tactful questions. Recounting the events of the previous evening brought the attack back in flashes, mental images so real that, at one point, she jerked back against the bed, trying to escape.

She still couldn’t believe he was dead. She couldn’t believe that he had tried to
rape
her. She tried to mesh together the pictures in her mind of him at the office—sweating as he asked her out, smirking as he told her that she had to stay late, turning red at some jibe from Christian—and the image of him above her, teeth bared, blood painting half his face black, his eyes wild and furious. But it was impossible, like trying to combine a stuffed bunny with Jack the Ripper into a Picasso figure, with pieces and parts that didn’t fit together.

Will had been banished from the room during the police interview but came back in as soon as the two officers left. He looked her over carefully, as if checking for any damage done by the cops’ questioning. “Up for company?”

“You? Always.”

His face lightened at that, the tense lines softening just a little, but he shook his head. “Christian.”

Jenny made a face and then felt bad. He was her good friend, but thinking about the drama that followed him around like a shadow made her tired and he wasn’t even in the room yet. Will was quiet, waiting for her answer. She sighed.

“Send him in,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Sure?” Will asked, his face serious.

“Yeah.” Jenny braced herself for the onslaught.

Will left and when Christian slipped into the room a few moments later, Jenny felt bad for hesitating. He was pale under his tan—
the only tan person in Minnesota at this time of year
, Jenny thought irreverently—and his eyes were serious. There was no sign of his ebullient spirit. He even walked quietly to the bed.

“Hey, Jen,” he said, voice muted.

“Hey, Chris.” She gave him a smile. “Those for me or is there a hot male nurse waiting outside?” she asked, pointing at the bouquet he held at his side.

“Oh right.” He looked at the flowers as if he had never seen them before and handed the bouquet to her. “Sorry, they’re a pretty sad bunch but the hospital florist left much to be desired.” He attempted a smile but it collapsed in on itself and he plopped into the chair next to the bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Jen,” he said quietly. “Who would have thought that Evan…” He shook his head. “I keep thinking about the things I said to him, how I kept poking at him, if that pushed him into it, you know?” He dropped his head and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think…I mean, my God,
Evan
…”

Jenny ran a hand over his head and gave his hair a gentle tug. He looked up at her. “First Will and now you,” she said, shaking her head. “It wasn’t your fault, Christian. Don’t you dare take any of the blame off that bastard.” She glared at him, suddenly enraged. “Don’t you dare.”

“Okay, okay!” Christian said meekly, reaching up to untangled her fisted fingers from his hair. “Be gentle with me, okay? I’ve had a rough day.”

“
You’ve
had—” Jenny had to laugh at that, just a muffled snort but still. She was sorry she had considered not seeing Christian. He was good for her.

“Your mom’s on her way,” he told her. “She was visiting some friends in Des Moines but headed back as soon as I called her. She’s going to call the sisters.”

“All of them?” Jenny grimaced. The thought of her entire family descending on her was horrifying. As much as she loved them, her three sisters together were exhausting when she
wasn’t
concussed and traumatized.

“When I told your mom that your injuries were minor and that you should be out of the hospital in a jiffy, she said that she’d encourage the sisters to stay in their respective states and just send cards and call,” Christian reassured her with a grin.

“Thank you, Mom,” Jenny breathed, closing her eyes in relief.

“Oh your mom might have spawned them but she’s fully aware of the terror they strike in lesser mortals’ hearts. I’ve only met Julie and Tara and they both scare the shit out of me,” Christian admitted with a frightened shudder.

“Well if you weren’t so chicken-hearted, Christian…” came an amused voice from the doorway.

“Mom!” At the sight of her elegant mother, childish tears burned in Jenny’s eyes and she held out her arms for a hug. Pearl hurried to sit on the edge of the bed and gathered her daughter against her, stroking her tangled hair. She cupped Jenny’s face in both hands and looked at her closely.

“My poor baby,” she crooned. “If that rat-bastard who did this to you wasn’t already dead, I would kill him myself.”

Jenny gave a tearful choke of laughter at that and squeezed her mother’s arms. Pearl turned her head to fix a stern eye on Christian.

“By the way, Christian, I’ll have you know that I did not
spawn
any of my children.”

“Of course not,” Christian assured her smoothly, leaning over to kiss Pearl’s smooth cheek. “I can’t imagine anyone saying that you did.”

Pearl grinned at that and reached out to rumple his hair. “Smart-ass,” she accused fondly. She turned back to Jenny. “When do you get out of here?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, if all goes well.”

“You’re coming home with me then,” Pearl told her firmly. For a moment, Jenny was tempted to let her mother bundle her home, bring her hot tea in bed and rub her back after a nightmare. She quickly shook off the childish desire to be babied.

“No, Mom,” she told Pearl, just as firmly. “You live over an hour away from my work and you know that your cats hate Rosie— Oh no, Rosie!” Jenny remembered in sudden panic.

“It’s okay,” Christian reassured her. “Will brought her to his house. He’s been running home every so often to take care of her.”

Pearl looked from Christian to Jenny, her eyes sharp. “Will?”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to introduce him to my family yet, since I didn’t want to scare him away,” this last was said with a stern glance at her mother, who gave her an innocent look in return, “but since he’s just right out in the hall…”

“I’ll get him,” Christian offered, popping out of his chair with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “It would be my pleasure.” He hurried out.

“Is this a serious thing then?” Pearl asked.

“Mom, I’m concussed. I’m in the hospital. I’ve been through a traumatic event. Aren’t you supposed to be smuggling in chocolate for me and rubbing my feet instead of grilling me about my new boyfriend?” Jenny asked plaintively.

“Boyfriend, is he?” Her mother always could zero in on the important points.

Christian bounced back into the room, tugging a more subdued Will behind him.

Resigned, Jenny introduced them. “Mom, this is Will. Will, this is my mom, Pearl, who will make your life miserable for the next ten minutes or so.”

Will looked startled and wary as he extended a cautious hand to Pearl. She took it, giving him a sharp once-over.

“What do you do, Will?” she barked out and Will jumped.

“Ah, programming. For, um, computers.” He blushed, obviously mortified by his stammered response.

Time for Operation Rescue Will
, Jenny thought. “Mom,” she sighed, in her most pitiful voice. “I’m feeling so tired…” Her mother just gave her an appraising glance and then turned back to Will.

Will, however, had flinched at Jenny’s mournful tone and hurried to her side to take her hand, his face worried.

“Hmm…” Pearl hummed knowingly. “Wrapped around your little finger, isn’t he?”

Jenny just gave her an innocent look.

“Okay, I’ll let you sleep then.” Pearl leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Just don’t think you’re off the hook yet, missy.”

“Oh I’m sure of that, Mom,” Jenny agreed with a half smile. Although she had said it to get the focus off Will, she really
was
tired and her lids felt swollen and weighted.

“Are you sure you won’t come home with me tomorrow?” Pearl asked.

“Positive. But thanks, Mom.” Jenny didn’t know where she was going when she left the hospital. She just knew she didn’t want to go home.

“You can stay with me,” Christian offered.

“Thanks, but your one-bedroom condo sees a little too much action for me to be hanging out on the couch,” Jenny told him, although she had to smile at the thought of bunking with Christian. They would kill each other within two days.