Pieces For You
Authors: Genna Rulon
Tags: #Mystery, #college romance, #romantic suspense, #Contemporary, #Romance, #young adult, #new adult
Pieces For You
Copyright © 2013
Genna Rulon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at Library of Congress
ISBN:
0615928854
ISBN-13: 978-0-615-92885-2
Cover design by G. Relyea
© Genna Rulon, 2013
Cover Images Copyright
Used under license from shutterstock.com
To the women—the survivors—of violence,
Your strength and perseverance are an inspiration,
and a testament to the profound courage of your soul.
I pray each of you finds your happily ever after!
Since I refuse to speak, the big boss, Shelly, has given me a journal with a promise that I don’t have to share the contents, as long as I write down my thoughts each day. I’ve never kept a journal, but it seems to defeat the purpose of not talking.
I am at The Phoenix Centre (TPC) for the next two months because I was brutally attacked. I know I’m here to “heal,” but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to see the pitying looks I know I would receive if I share my story. I don’t want to return to that night and relive the torture. If I don’t talk, I can try to pretend it didn’t happen. That it was just a nightmare I have yet to wake up from. If I open my mouth and say the words it becomes real, and if it’s real, then I can never escape it. Is it real if I write it down?
Everyone here keeps tossing around the word “recovery” as if it is an achievable goal. Can someone recover from meeting the devil in person, being violated and beaten by him, and then left for dead? Is it possible to heal after being betrayed by the man who promised to love you, knowing his choices led to your destruction? Maybe some people can…maybe some of the girls here can…I just don’t think I’m one of them.
They wheeled me into a group therapy session today. I would have objected, but then I’d have had to speak. They said I didn’t have to talk, just listen. I think they hope that listening to other girls who suffer like I do will make me feel less alone. What they fail to realize is I want to be alone. I don’t want to understand the other girls’ pain. I don’t want to bond with them or feel compelled to share the details of my attack or how I’m feeling. I don’t know these people and I don’t want to. I am sure they are all lovely—it’s not them, it’s me. I don’t want to be understood and seen. I want to disappear. If no one can see me, no one can hurt me.
The hits just keep on coming. I had my first physical therapy session. What did cause me other than excruciating pain? I can wiggle my fingers and shrug my shoulder now. As if being emotionally crippled wasn’t cruel enough, I am physically crippled too. At least the physical wounds will heal, or so they tell me. I still can’t walk or use my left arm because of the casts, and my face continues to look like a boxer after a long, unsuccessful career. My doctors are thrilled with my progress. They act like I reinvented the wheel. I want to feel their excitement and hope, but all that is left is pain and numbness. I prefer the numbness.
Word of my continued silence and lack of participation must have found its way to Shelly’s ears because she showed up at my door a little while ago. When she failed to engage me in conversation, she whipped out the big guns, reminding me of my promise to Everleigh to try, to participate…to get better. It was a hit below the belt—Shelly plays dirty. If I wasn’t on the receiving end of her emotional blackmail, I would have applauded her resourcefulness.