Josie

Life on my own wasn’t what I thought it would be. Two years of living away from home was getting to me. Two years of independence, two years of finding myself was...hard. Harder than I pictured. Sure, I found myself...in a way. Sure, I had independence. I had a job, had a great friend, and a roof over my head. Still, all I wanted was to be home. Be with the family who had opened their arms wide for me. They had adopted me, regardless of how troubled I was. I missed my sister, Zara, my brother, Matthew, but especially my mum and dad. I even missed my brothers-in-law, the goofy one, Julian, and the sometimes scary one, Talon. Most of all, I missed my nieces and nephews. Their light had helped me through many dark times. They were young and didn’t know the real world could be scary. It was their excitement over little things that I appreciated and missed.

Which was why I had stayed away from home so many times over the past two years, because if I went there, I knew I’d want to stay and never leave again. I’d want back in their world, their open arms and the protection they provided me each and every day. I’d want to be surrounded in it all once more and forever. Never leaving again.

However, I had to stay strong.

I wanted to prove to them, and especially myself, I was able to live in the real world, no matter how scared I was each day, or how my brain screamed at me to stop the ridiculousness and get home. And no matter how much I hated living through the taunting and teasing each day for the past year, my decision was resolute.

Since they found out I was petrified of most men, of human contact, it had all changed.

The first time it happened they enjoyed the reaction they got from me. They thrived on the fact that it unnerved me.

Since then, it happened all the time, just so they could see me cower and cringe.

I was lucky to have found Simone, the sweet girl with shoulder-length black hair and dark blue eyes. It was as though fortune had rained down on me when it was Simone who answered the same ad I had two years earlier. It was an ad in the local paper I’d found before I moved to Melbourne, for two house guests to look after a fully furnished home while the owner travelled for business. When the owner was home, we rarely saw him. He tended to stay in the master bedroom. He was quiet and kept to himself, like me.

The idea of living my life as the local cat lady or hermit had been promising, for the first few months after I had moved in, which was possibly why Simone took it upon herself to get me out and about. She was determined for me to start living my life the way an eighteen-year-old should after flying the nest.

She showed me there was hope, kindness and love in the world outside of my family.

Simone was a great friend, the best anyone could have, trusting, loyal and bubbly. She took me under her wing and showed me how to get drunk, do shots, and dance until my legs wanted to fall from my body, just so they could rest. Dancing was fun.

At least I had that one year respite at uni before my new hell started. Even then, I kept to my shy self, still forming the knowledge of how people went about their day, how they communicated in the different way I was with my family. If it weren’t for Simone, I would have been on my own, and surviving would have been the wrong term.

Everything had been okay...until Cameron Peterson took an interest in me.

At first I thought he was different.

I thought he was nice.

I’d been wrong on so many levels.

To start off, he had been nice, sweet even. He saw that I was shy, but still he approached me slowly and with caution. He said kind things to me and didn’t invade my comfort zone. But things must have been moving too slow for him, because after one weekend, a weekend where we saw each other out at a club, he changed.

He thought he owned me.

He thought I wanted him.

He had been wrong and he didn’t like it.

The night we were out, he was drunk, and he was a mean drunk. I knew that because once he spotted me on the dance floor, he stalked over to me with a feral glint in his eyes, or so Simone explained afterwards when she watched his approach. His hands went straight to my waist. I flinched and tried to move away, but his grip tightened. My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, all but a second, I was scared it was David. The man who took so many things from me, but most of all, my innocence. Even though I knew the sudden thought was ridiculous as he was dead, I couldn’t stop the fear seeping into my body. I stiffened as Cameron rubbed his arousal into my backside. Simone, sensing my fear, like she did every time, came forward and pushed Cameron back. I hadn’t told Simone of my past; however, she only had to watch me, like any other, to see that I was new to physical contact from people I didn’t know. She always did her best to steer people away from me, no matter the situation and slowly, she was teaching me not all contact was bad. Not when it came from people I knew and trusted, so when she hugged me, I only flinched a little when it would startle me. I turned to see Cameron sneer at Simone, until he noticed I was watching and changed his expression to a lusty, drunken smile.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

I cringed. “I-I’m not your baby, Cameron.”

“Sure you are.” He reached for me again. I backed up a step, my hands out in front of me. “Don’t be like that.” He chuckled.

In a loud enough voice so he could hear me over the pumping music, I said, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t touch me, please.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Jo-Jo, you know you want me. I see the way you look at me.” Lightning fast, he reached out and snagged my wrist, dragging me forward so our chests collided.

“Don’t. Please, don’t, you’re drunk. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I pleaded and tried to pry myself away. Simone stepped up next to us trying to get Cameron off me, but he wouldn’t have it. They started yelling at each other.

Tears formed, and just as quickly, they rolled down my cheeks, leaving a wet trail behind. There was no way to stop the whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc inside my body. Spotting my tears, Cameron wiped them away. Ignoring Simone, he leaned toward me to get my attention. “You want me, Jo-Jo, like all the girls do. No one says no to me.” Then he slammed his lips down on mine. I struggled and fought against him, but nothing worked, so when he shoved his tongue inside my mouth, I bit him.

Pushed away by strong hands, I stumbled into Simone. She wrapped her arms around my waist to steady me. “You stupid jerk,” Simone screamed. People started taking notice. I was surprised they hadn’t beforehand, though most were drunk and in their own little worlds. Some looked too scared to say or do anything. I couldn’t blame them. I would have been the same.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarled at me. He wiped his mouth and studied me. Whatever he saw had him smirking. “You really hate it, don’t you? Touching, attention. Here I thought you were just shy, but now I know you have mental problems.” He chuckled. “Makes it more fun for me.” He winked, turned, and walked away.

From that night on, he became my personal nightmare. I was terrified by his obsession with me.

He’d show up wherever I was. His eyes travelled along with every step I took. His smirk turned sexual and his words sinister. He wanted me, but he couldn’t have me and he did not like that at all. So much so, if he couldn’t make it to me, he’d have his friends do his job for him and they’d follow me. I could hear their fake whispered conversations of how strange I was. They’d call me names like tease, slut and ugly.

All I wanted was to be left alone.

However, they wouldn’t. They were puppets following their master’s lead.

Once, six months ago, I even tried to go on a date with a shy guy like me. I could tell he was nervous. He didn’t even make a move to hold my hand, which I liked. It went well, until Cameron showed up at the café. He slid into the booth opposite me, next to my date, and told him that I was a cock tease, that I had problems, and was mentally unstable. He warned my date that if he continued to date me, I would turn into a stalker, like I had with him. Apparently, Cameron was just following the ‘bro code’. All men had to stick together and warn each other of the freaks, like me.

Of course, because my date was worried it was true and the fact that he didn’t want Cameron’s attention, he fled the café and I never saw him again.

After that, Cameron went from standing back and teasing, to touching. Any chance he got, he would rub up against me, run his hand down my back. Pretend to lean in to kiss me or tap me on the shoulder and yell, “Boo.” Again, if he couldn’t be around to do it, he’d have his friends fill in for him.

Every day I was a nervous wreck.

I’d become a jittery fool, one who was even more timid and withdrawn than I’d been after Zara and Talon saved me from David.

I was losing hope in society once more. I knew Simone saw it. I knew she was worried for me, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t go to the police. I didn’t want the attention, and I knew Cameron would make my life worse than it already was.

My grades declined, and once more, my social skills took a hit. I was like a zombie walking around campus, with my head low, my books to my chest and a hunched posture, all while I waited for hell to begin for the day.

Even my boss, a fifty-year-old woman named Marybeth, noticed the change in me. I’d lost count of how many times she had asked me if I was okay. All I could do was nod. Thankfully, due to my ‘shyness’, she had taken me off floor duty, from serving customers. Instead, I was out back helping with the preparation of the food and washing the dishes. I loved her for it. She knew I struggled being around strangers. At first, she’d encouraged me to try floor duty and for a while there, I loved it because I didn’t have to touch anyone and I only had to speak a few words...until everything went pear-shaped because of Cameron.

Misery was my name and I didn’t know how to change it.

I wanted to reach out to my parents, my sister or brother even, but I didn’t. Why? Because I felt I needed to deal with it on my own. It was my choice to move away. It was my choice to attend university, to be independent. So if I ran home, if I rang them crying about how terrible it all was, I would be a failure. I couldn’t become that person. I needed to show, not only myself, but my family that I had grown. Their protection, their love had contributed to my freedom, my independence. I was no longer that little girl who was carried from a nightmare. At least, I didn’t feel I was. No matter what I was enduring every day and no matter how much it hurt, strength grew inside of me.

Still, I missed my family with every fibre of my being, missed their warmth and protection.

Because of that, everything hurt.

Simone tried her best to make me happy, get me to laugh, and for her, I did as best as I could.

I knew that when I smiled or laughed at her jokes, it didn’t show in my eyes. There was no fooling her either; she would see through my façade every time, causing her to sigh in defeat. But she never gave up. The next day, she would make another attempt. I loved her for trying so much.

I stopped doing anything other than classes or work. As soon as class or my shift finished, I would race home. I was lucky I didn’t live far from both places.

Cameron showed up many times at home. If Simone was home, she’d send him away. If she wasn’t, I’d sit on the floor in the corner of the living room to listen and wait until he eventually left. I’d never cave and open the door to him. If I did, the outcome wouldn’t be pretty. His foul language and anger was enough to convince me he was a threat. It was that anger that would be taken out on me physically, destroying what little hope I had of ever finding normalcy.

About two months earlier his nightly visits finally stopped. One night when he came by, Parker, the owner, was home. He must have had a very bad business trip because when Cameron banged on the door, Parker swung my bedroom door open. The force from it hit my wall, causing me to squeal and jump. Parker stood in the doorway scowling. He then demanded to know if the loser at the door was annoying me. All I could do was nod. I was too terrified to do anything else. Once I answered, Parker then barked out, “Never be scared of me.” I gave another nod and then he added, “I’ll deal with it.” He closed my door with a bang and stomped off toward the front door.

I wished I had the courage to have seen what occurred at the front door, but all I heard was yelling, mainly from Parker. After a few noises, which sounded like punches, things fell silent and Parker was at my door again opening it. “He won’t come here again. If he troubles you at other places, you need to find someone to deal with it.” With that, he closed my door, gently that time, and went back to his room, leaving me with yet more questions regarding my housemate. All I knew was that he looked to be around twenty-four, and he travelled a lot; though I wasn’t sure he liked what he did.

If it wasn’t for the day he handled Cameron, I would have kept on thinking he was a nerdy bookworm with how he stayed locked in his room reading with his sexy glasses on his nose. I had seen he was a fan of reading when one day I’d been walking past his room, his door suddenly opened and he stepped out. I looked over his shoulder quickly to see his walls were lined with bookcases and many books sat upon them. However, the way he handled my trouble at the front door had me second guessing myself. Parker had been true to his word though. Cameron never darkened our doorstep again. Though, it hadn’t changed the attention I still got at uni. If anything, whatever Parker did caused Cameron’s stare to turn deadly.

After that incident, Parker stayed around for two more days before he left again. We said nothing to each other about what had happened. Even when he returned two weeks later to stay another three nights, zilch was shared between us. Since then, he hadn’t been back. I couldn’t help but pray he was okay.

Simone, knowing something had changed, asked me why Cameron wasn’t coming to the house any longer. I told her about Parker. Her eyes glazed over and she got a small, satisfied smile on her face. “Now we just need to find someone to do whatever he did in public when dickface is still screwing with you,” she’d said.

Standing in the bathroom, I shook all thoughts from my mind, my eyes were still red from crying in the shower. I waited in the bathroom trying to hide it from Simone. I took a deep breath and swiped at the fogged-up mirror to stare at my reflection.

I’d lost weight, enough for me to know that I was underweight. My cheek bones jutted out and my once shiny styled hair looked lifeless, so did the bags under my eyes. I lifted my red waves and let them fall back into the wet mess it was. Simone had surprised me on my twentieth birthday, just four months earlier, with a beauty day.

I’d been reluctant to go due to my phobias. Still, because Simone was such a great supportive friend, I sucked it up for the day and went out with her to get my nails painted black and my long, very curly, red hair was styled into a modern wave. Something I absolutely loved. It was too bad it looked lifeless once again, even when dried. What didn’t help was my lack of care.

My mum had been ecstatic when I sent her a picture of my hair. She’d gushed over it and told me how beautiful I was.

God, I missed her.

People were right. Home was where the heart is, because mine had never left Ballarat. My heart stayed with my family, only making an appearance sometimes when Simone brought it out in me. Any other day I was lifeless, a shell.

Maybe I was being overly dramatic, maybe I could go home and not think I was a failure.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know because I stopped thinking a while ago.

I stopped feeling.

All that mattered were the grades I needed.

At least there was still that tiny, minute spark inside of me that wanted the future career I longed for so long ago.

Currently, that was the only thing that kept me there, that kept me from running back to my family.

I often wondered if I had someone to care for me back then, maybe I would have noticed David’s attention was more than fatherly. Perhaps I would have seen that he was nothing more than a dirty old man lusting for a minor. If someone had been there for me, I wouldn’t have been beaten, broken or raped.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew I couldn’t help all children being abused or taken advantage of by becoming a social worker. But I could help some and I would fight with everything I had to make sure those children knew they were worth something. Those children needed to know life could get better and I would do anything in my power to make that happen for them.

So for now, I would hold onto that little spark inside of me for those children.

I would get the grades I needed and continue each day as it came.

I would do all that and then, finally, before I took any job with children, I would take the time to sort myself out. No past, no hurt, no pain of my own would reflect on any case I took on.

For now, I would continue to pray and hope that each day may be better than the last.