Tomorrow's Lies (Promises #1) (4 page)

Not long after, I am caught stealing some shit from a store and get my ass sent to juvie. When I finish my stint, I am thrust back in the foster system.
What a cluster-fuck
. I move through a carousel of homes, switching houses instead of merry-go-round horses. Spinning around, moving through different rooms. Some are shared and some I have all to myself. A few foster moms buy me clothes, but most don’t bother. The one constant is I’m never in the same place for long.

Round and round I go. Where I’ll stop, nobody knows
.

Then, one dreary October day, I get word I’ve received a permanent placement for my final two years in the system.

“Mrs. Lowry promises to keep you until you’re eighteen,” my overworked, underpaid social worker tells me in a monotone voice.

“Great,” I reply, just as enthusiastically.

It’s my sixteenth birthday.
Happy fucking birthday to me
.

PRESENT DAY

Jaynie

“Y
ou’re lucky to be getting this placement, Jaynie. Mrs. Lowry is quite selective of the kids she chooses to come live with her.”

Saundra, my social worker, relays this tidbit to me in a way that conveys I should be thanking my lucky stars. What does she want? Does she expect me to drop to my knees on the candy- and gum-wrapper-strewn floorboard of the little rust-bucket car we’re in and praise Jesus?

Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

I have nothing to be thankful for, certainly not this placement. Besides, the ability to feel real gratitude is something I lost a while ago, along with a lot of other things.

Saundra turns at a faded green sign that indicates we’re entering the city limits of
Forsaken, West Virginia
. I suppress a laugh. Seems I may have found an appropriate home after all.

Saundra nods to the sign as we pass. “Don’t let the name fool you, Jaynie. This town is actually a solid community. A bit rundown,” she adds when we start driving by cars on blocks, dotting the front yards of dilapidated homes. “But Forsaken is still a good place.”

Sure it is
, I think. I keep my mouth shut, though. One thing I’ve learned during the past three years in the state foster system is that keeping quiet is the best way to stay out of trouble.

Leaning my head against the side window, I sit quietly and take in my new town.

Wow, what a shithole.
Cracked sidewalks, boarded-up buildings, and houses marred by broken windows inspire little confidence that Forsaken is a good place, like Saundra claims. A dirty curtain sticking out of the second-floor window of one home, pink and felt-like, reminds me of a dog’s tongue hanging out of his mouth on a hot summer’s day. But not in a cute, happy way. This is more like a dog left out with no water.

We pass one particular house that garners my attention. It’s more a shack than a solid structure, really. A young girl of about six is standing out in the middle of the muddy yard. She’s crying—wailing, really—but no one comes to her aid.

Between this and my thirsty-dog imaginings, I conclude this town is really living up to its name. Thunder rumbles and I hope for rain. Maybe Forsaken and all its misery will be mercifully washed away. But, of course, that doesn’t happen.

A smattering of raindrops peppers the windshield, fat droplets that look like oversized tears. I think of the girl crying in the yard and feel like crying right along with her. Crying wouldn’t help. Nothing can wash away the sadness in my soul.

Saundra flips on the wipers, fiddles with the controls, and finally settles on delay. Sweeping a swath of curly brown hair over her shoulder, she tells me, “It won’t be long now. We’re almost there.”

We make a sharp turn at an abandoned paper mill and start a climb up a narrow gravel road that hugs the side of a heavily forested mountain. A scary ascent ensues, and I focus on the woods instead of the far side of the road, which appears to drop off to absolutely nothing.

Yeah, so the trees, let’s think about the trees, and not the possibility of accidental death
.

The trees really are quite pretty. The branches are tipped in springtime buds, painting the forest in a filmy cast, like a light green veil has been thrown over everything.

When we slow to a crawl, I notice whole sections of the road have been washed down the mountain, forever lost. I shudder. It seems the closer we creep to my new home, the worse things become.

“I think we should turn around,” I blurt out. “Is it too late for me to go back to the group home?”

Saundra snorts. “Yes, I should think so.”

“Why?”

Aggravated, she replies, “Because it just is, Jaynie.”

“I think I might want to go back, though.”

Saundra stops the car right in the middle of the road. Doesn’t matter, no one is around.

“Listen,” she says as she twists in her seat to face me. “I am not driving you all the way back to Clarksburg. You’ll just change your mind again once we get there. I know it.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” I mumble.

“Oh, Jaynie…”

Saundra shakes her head and slips off her tortoise-shell glasses to rub her eyes. I’ve clearly annoyed her. “You have no idea what you’re saying. You spent one month in group. One month. That’s nothing. You think living in a group home until you’re eighteen is going to be better than living with Mrs. Lowry up on this beautiful mountain?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Group wasn’t
that
bad.”

She ignores me, puts on her glasses, and starts driving again.

I’m stuck.

Maybe she’s right. Group wasn’t completely terrible, but it certainly wasn’t great. The kids stayed away from me. Rumors abounded that I was weird. Okay, true, I don’t talk too much. And I wear way too many layers of clothing. But the biggest impediment to my fitting in anywhere is the one thing I’m trying like hell to overcome—I lose my shit if I’m touched by a guy. I’m not always great with women, either. That’s the reason for all the clothes. Leggings under skirts and big, bulky sweaters over long-sleeved tees offer a layer of protection if someone accidentally bumps into me, or brushes by.

I don’t want to live my life this way, and I don’t plan on staying screwed up forever. I want nothing more than to be normal, like I used to be. I was once a happy and fun girl. Touchy and feely, even. I hugged people all the time. But not anymore. The girl I used to be was ruined by one man.

I clench my fists, hoping Saundra doesn’t notice.

I refuse to give up on getting back to the real me, the one buried under the fear. I’ve been fighting every day to heal, and I’ve made some progress. Last week, my therapist was able to touch me. Just on the shoulder. And she’s a female. But still, it’s progress. I just need the right environment to take me all the way.

A few other things need to change, too. Like the flashbacks. They need to go away.

Lift up your nightgown, Jaynie.

Touch me where I put your hand.

Quit clenching your legs together, bitch.

If you scream again, I’ll fucking punch those pretty white teeth out of your mouth.

“Okay,” I whisper. “No more screaming, I promise.”

I start to shake.
Don’t lose it here
. Frantically, I smooth and smooth and smooth the long, black skirt I’m wearing over my gray wool leggings. I still feel overexposed. I can almost feel
his
hands on me, wrenching my thighs apart with one hand, while reaching for a condom with the other.

No, no, no
.

Tugging my sweatshirt over my head, I place it over my lap.
Another line of defense to my most secret place
. “Try to touch me now, motherfucker,” I mutter.

See, I’m fighting to be strong.

Saundra glances over, concern in her eyes. She’s trying to keep her focus on the road, but how can she when the crazy girl next to her is having a meltdown.

“I’m fine,” I say, voice shaky. My eyes dart her way, then back to my lap. “I promise I’ll be all right. Just give me a second.”

“Jaynie,” she sighs. “I am so sorry we missed what was happening to you in your last home. It’s just that it was so good there for so long.” Her lamenting tone makes it sound like what happened at my last home hurt her more than it hurt me. “Who would have known, right?”

“Right.”

She either doesn’t hear, or ignores, my sarcastic tone.

“I should have been checking in on you more often,” she says, more to herself than to me. “I’m just so overworked, and I never thought something like that would ever happen in Mrs. Giessen’s house. She’s such a great lady. And her son wasn’t due out of prison for another year. Soon as I heard he was released early,”—she peers over at me meaningfully—“I started the paperwork to get you out.”

“Yeah, you did.”

I don’t add that it took her six weeks to get me out of that place. It wasn’t Saundra’s fault, though. The system is broken. And now, so am I.

Unfortunately, while the paperwork was tied up in processing, I remained stuck in Mrs. Giessen’s house. There was no immediate rush to pull me out. After all, I was told, Mrs. Giessen’s son (I refuse to let his first name cross my thoughts or my lips, ever) may have been an ex-con, but he wasn’t a sex offender…until he was. And, lucky me, I got to be his first victim.

Trust me when I tell you a lot of harm can be done in a month and a half, especially to a seventeen-year-old girl with no way to protect herself. I was at the mercy of a monster, a foul man who kept the things he did to me at night, when his mother was fast asleep, a horrid secret. A secret he told me over and over must be kept between us. God, the things he did to me as he told me that. And the worse things he promised if I did tell.

I squeeze my legs together as tightly as I can. The physical pain he inflicted on me has long passed, but the wounds on my psyche are far worse than the ones he ever inflicted on my body.

“He hurt me, he hurt me,” I chant.

When I start rocking back and forth, Saundra slams on the brakes. “Jaynie, calm down. Rog—“

“Don’t say his name!”

“Okay, okay. I was just going to say he’s not here. You’re all right, you’re safe.”

I nod. I’m glad we’re out of the town, past the ramshackle houses. I don’t need rumors starting up within the first ten minutes of arriving in this new place.

“Jaynie,” Saundra continues when the rocking slows, but doesn’t stop. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. I told you you’re safe now.”

We’ll see
.

Finally, I stop rocking and cautiously, so cautiously, Saundra reaches over to comfort me…

…and that’s when I involuntarily jerk away.

Pressing my body to the passenger door, I whisper, “Please, don’t. I’m all right, I swear. Just don’t touch me. Not now, okay?”

“Okay, Jaynie, okay.” Saundra slumps back in her seat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reached for you like that. I know better, I do.”

I feel rotten. “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I know you’re only trying to help.” I scrub my hands down my face, wishing I could disappear. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“It’s understandable you don’t want to be touched. It’s only been a little over a month since I got you out.”

“Yeah, but…” I lower my head. Saundra defending me only makes me feel worse.

After a few seconds, I try to explain. “It’s usually not this bad with women. I guess I’m just extra stressed with all the new stuff going on.”

She smiles over at me. “It’s okay, honey. Really, it is. There’ve been a lot of changes in your life recently. This is to be expected.”

“Yeah, but still…I’m sorry.”

She puts the car in gear, starts to drive again. “The system, Jaynie…it just sucks.”

That it does.

As we travel higher up the side of the mountain it’s like my meltdown never happened. There’s no more talk of returning to group; I am going to my new home.

And then we arrive.

At the top of the mountain, I cast a sweeping gaze over acres and acres of open land. It’s a striking landscape, like some bucolic painting that’s too good to be true. And maybe I am right about that assessment. The high gates at the front of the property, not unlike those found at a fortress, don’t exactly inspire confidence that this place will be a haven.