Joy (24 page)
She stared at the elegant, flawless reflection, until a single tear streaked down the side of her face. In horror, she watched the quivering lips of the reflection move. “This is what you deserve. Look at you. Nobody wants you. You have to settle for anything you get.”
Her body slid down the tiled wall, until she sat on the floor with her knees to her chest. The gown was bunched around her waist. She dropped her head and cried, letting the tears fall for Madear, Gordon, and Hunter. Then, finally, the tears came for Sasha.
T
he streets were illuminated with the red, white, and yellow glow of car lights. Anya stared from her window, watching the clustered cars make the evening exodus to their suburban homes. The city lights held her hypnotized gaze.
The view gave her a reprieve from the scene that played repeatedly in her mind all day. How could Braxton have done that? she questioned again and again. After two years and countless situations, she knew everything there was to know about him. The man she knew would never force himself on her.
“Just goes to show you,” she said aloud.
“It's come to that, huh?”
Anya felt the blood warm her face. I should have closed my door, she thought. It was almost seven and everyone had gone home— except for David.
He grinned. “I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation,” he teased, then sat in front of her desk.
“What do you want, David?” Her tone was sharper than she expected.
His eyes widened a bit. “I didn't mean to intrude. I thought you were just thinking out loud. Is it one of the accounts?”
Anya stared at David. He was such a private person, but was becoming a friend.
Maybe another male could help her understand. Maybe David could give her the explanation that she was desperate to hear.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?” he persisted.
She could see his concern. Maybe … “No.” She sat at her desk and toyed with a message slip Dianna had left—another call from Mr. Greene requesting a meeting with her. She shook her head. “Is there something I can help
you
with, David?”
“Uh, no.” He twisted in his seat. “I came to tell you that I'm going to get out of here, unless you need me.”
“Oh, no.” Anya smiled for the first time that day. “You never leave this early. I'm glad to see you come up for air.” Anya looked away from him before she asked, “You have … plans?”
He dropped his gaze. “No, just going home.” His words were as quick and sharp as hers were before.
Anya nodded. They both had secrets.
David cleared his throat. “Are you going to be here much longer?”
“Not much. I just want to clear my desk.”
“Don't work too late.”
Anya sat motionless, as she listened to David return to his office, then come back down the corridor and through the front door. When the lock clicked, she returned to the haven of her window.
There was really no reason for her to stay, but she had nowhere to go. Knowing Braxton, her house was staked out and the only reason he hadn't shown up at the office was because Dianna had told him that she hadn't come in today. Touching her head, she could feel the small lump that remained. In her mind, she went over the scenario again. He hadn't meant to throw her down that way; it was an accident. Anya shook her head—that's how it started. First a shove, then a push.
She looked at her ring. She had surprised herself when she put it on. When she'd taken it off last night, she believed that was the end. But the light of day brought clarity—at least that's what she thought this morning.
Now, as she twisted the ring, her mind was a potpourri of thoughts. One thing she knew, she couldn't hide in her office forever. She sighed. It was time for her to face what had been building for weeks.
She started to put on her jacket, then paused. She needed to go to the bathroom. Maybe I should just try to make it home, she thought, but then decided against it.
When she got to the front door and unbolted the lock, she realized she'd left her keys on her desk. She looked toward her office, and wondered if she should go back so that she could lock the door while she went to the rest room. But, it would only take a minute. She stepped into the main hallway and scurried down the hall.
The moment she opened the office door, Anya shuddered; a body-tingling chill ran through her. She stood, listening to the silence. After a few moments, she stepped completely through the doorway, locking the door behind her.
“This thing with Braxton is really getting to me,” she said aloud.
Still, she quickened her step, determined to leave immediately. The instant Anya grabbed her jacket and purse, the office darkened.
It took a moment, but Anya's mind finally caught up with the pounding in her chest. She peered into the darkened hallway; the lights were out throughout the entire office. Then her glance moved to the window. The city lights continued to glow. That was when fear totally gripped her.
She sought to collect her thoughts. Using her palms, she groped along the top of her desk until she felt the cold tip of the scissors. As she picked them up, her hand hit the telephone. It didn't take a second for her to decide. She moved quickly through the dangerously dark room. She would lock herself in, call the police and pray.
The force hit her so fast, so fiercely, that she was knocked across the room, back against her desk. She tasted blood instantly. Her scream lifted from inside her belly but locked in her throat. She looked up to see the faint outline of a figure that blended with the darkness.
Still against the desk, her fingers felt the scissors that had dropped. Fear mixed with survival, and she gripped the scissors tightly. She could barely see the outline, but she listened for movement. When she felt him move, she held her breath, then lunged forward, the pointed ends of the scissors directed toward his face.
He screamed and, for a split second, Anya hesitated. There was something familiar. Regaining her wits, she ran for the door.
He grabbed her, hooking his arm around her neck. When her hands reached for him, the scissors dropped. The scream that had been bolted inside her throat finally released itself, filling the office with her fear. She moved all her limbs—kicking, waving, scratching, grasping at the nothingness in front of her.
“Shut up or I'll kill you.”
Anya quieted to whimpers, believing the voice. “Please, don't hurt me.”
Without warning, he turned and threw Anya face down on her desk. Her stomach hit the edge hard, sending pain screeching through her limbs. Fear became secondary to rage. She swung around prepared for battle, when she heard the click an instant before she saw the glimmer.
The gleaming blade made her freeze. “Please, please,” she whimpered.
“I should kill you.” The voice was filled with such hatred, she knew she would not survive the night.
He tossed her onto the floor, then slipped the knife to her neck as he straddled her. He leaned into her, his hot breath seeping into her skin.
“One word—you're dead.” He carefully murmured the words, but to Anya, it sounded like he screamed.
They were so close that, through the darkness, under the knit ski cap, his eyes seared through her, singeing her, and she knew he spoke the truth.
Soundlessly, he slid the knife against her blouse, then with a smooth stroke, ripped through the silk. He lingered for a moment, rubbing the cold metal against her skin.
She cringed, but remained still as she stared into his eyes. Sick eyes, crazed eyes, familiar eyes, she thought, but only for a moment. She knew no one like this.
His eyes smiled as he lifted her skirt and with, another switch of the blade, tore her stockings and panties from her body. The knife moved back to her neck and his eyes spoke. “Don't move,” they said.
He unzipped his pants and Anya trembled. She squeezed her eyes tightly as he entered her. The man grunted; she drifted away—to Braxton. He was probably at home now, waiting for her. And Sasha—she was at the Victory Awards. Maybe she was home by now, bursting with excitement, waiting to tell Anya about her night.
Animalistic whimpers brought her back and she realized the sounds were coming from her. As the man stabbed into her, the cold blade remained against her throat.
She wondered why it hurt so much. She wondered how she was able to keep breathing. She wondered why she had never taken a self-defense class. She wondered what tomorrow would be like—if it would be sunny or raining.
When she squirmed under the pressure of his weight, the blade pressed harder against her neck. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, God.
It was then that she made her decision. She would not remain silent as he had told her to. If she were to die tonight, she knew there was something she had to say. As the man released his seed, she began to utter what she knew could be the final words of her life.
Our Father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven
…
D
avid quickened his step. He opened the front doors and his eyes skimmed the marble-floored lobby. It was too late for anyone to be there. When he pushed the button for the elevator, the doors opened instantly, and he waited until the doors closed before he pressed the number 17. He watched the floor numbers and counted silently along as he tried to calm his breathing.
At the seventeenth floor, he walked to the huge double doors with the gold M&A embossed in the walnut panels.
“Mr. Montgomery. What are you doing here?”
Gina struggled toward him, her cleaning cart rolling slowly over the carpeted hallway.
His hands shook and he returned the key to his pocket. “Gina … what … you're still here?” He glanced at his watch. The cleaning crew should have been long gone.
Gina grinned. “I know, we are very late tonight,” she started in her deliberate cadence. “Five people called in sick. It's that flu,” she tisked. “So, it's just me and Tony on the top floors.” Gina leaned against the cart and used her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow. Then eyeing him, she asked, “Why are you here so late?”
“I…” David swallowed hard. “I forgot… something.”
“I will open the door for you.” She tried to push herself between David and the door. “I have to clean your office next.”
“I have it.” David steadied his hand as he put the key in the door. He turned on the lights, as Gina's cart squeaked through the reception area.
“I will start on the other side, Mr. Montgomery. So that you can do whatever you came to do. Don't work too late, Mr. Montgomery.”
She continued to mumble as she meandered down the hall. David sighed, grateful for the few moments he would have alone. He passed Dianna's desk and the uniform cubicles that lined the office.
Suddenly he stopped, hearing something, but in seconds, it disappeared. The moment he began toward his office, it started again—a low moaning. He stepped toward the moan, and stopped in front of Anya's office. The door was slightly ajar and David walked in.
His eyes widened in shock. He picked up the overturned chair blocking his path, and stepped over papers that seemed to have been thrown from the desk. Stumbling forward, he moved through the wide office until he heard it again, this time louder and clearer.
“Anya!” he screamed.
She was sprawled on her stomach on the floor, her face buried in the pile of the carpet. He knelt, turned her over and drew back at the sight of the blood.
“Anya,” he whispered.
She moaned.
He jumped up, reaching for the desk. Where was the phone? His eyes bounced around until he located it in the corner. He picked it up, tapping the receiver button furiously. Nothing. He clicked it again; that's when he saw the ripped cord.
“Gina! Please, come quickly!” he screamed through the offices.
He ran back to Anya and held her head, mumbling softly, trying to propel her into consciousness.
“Mr. Montgomery, where are you?”
“In Ms. Mitchell's office,” he yelled.
Gina shrieked. “Oh, my God!” she said, then reverted to her native tongue, making the sign of the cross over her body. She fell to her knees.
David took his arms from around Anya and leaned toward the cleaning woman. “Gina. Call 911,” he said, pointing to Dianna's desk.
Gina cried through her screams. He shook her shoulders.
“Call the police!”
“Yes, yes,” she whimpered. She struggled to raise herself from the floor and ran to Dianna's desk.
He knelt again, resting Anya's head in his lap. He stroked her face and softly called her name.
David struggled to pull Anya's skirt over her nakedness, then tried to tug her shredded blouse together. When she moaned faintly, he removed his jacket to cover her.
As he stared at her, memories rushed to him, taking him to another place, a different time. He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He couldn't allow the past into the present.
Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, and he used his shirtsleeve to wipe it away. He hoped his touch soothed her, letting her know she was no longer in danger.
“Mr. Montgomery, they are on their way.” Gina's voice was still quavering as she returned to the office. “I told them to hurry, that a lady had been shot!”
“Okay, Gina.” David tried to keep his voice calm. “Go downstairs and wait for the paramedics.”
“I want to stay with you.” She knelt and touched Anya's forehead, then muttered words that David could not understand.
“Gina, this is a big building and we need to lead the paramedics right here.”
She hesitated, then stood. “Yes … yes.”
David's small sigh was one of relief. He held on to Anya, and continued to call her name. A few minutes later, he realized her moans had stopped.
“Oh, God,” he said aloud. He had to do something, but what? He looked at Anya, and knew what he had to do. But how could he pray? He hadn't spoken to God in such a long time. He closed his eyes, willing words from long-ago Sunday school classes to come forth. The first words that came to his mind he spoke aloud. “
The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me besides the still waters. He restoreth my soul.
“
