Chapter 36
Adalyn
I didn’t know how long it had been since that horrible night. The night my life officially ended. Metaphorically, of course. I still hadn’t spoken to anyone. I knew it was killing Stacy. She eventually went back to work once she realized I wasn’t going to do anything crazy like slit my wrists or something. I think when I finally started eating solid foods is when she felt comfortable enough to leave me alone for a while, though she was only working half days.
I was getting damn tired of being baby sat. I appreciated what she was doing for me, and I wasn’t mad at her, I was mad at myself. I wasn’t sitting around feeling sorry for myself anymore. I hadn’t talked because I truly had nothing worth saying. I wasn’t ready to pretend like everything was okay and I definitely was not ready to talk about what happened. So I just didn’t talk.
I knew I needed to snap out of this soon before I completely pushed everyone away from me for good. Carrie hadn’t been to visit in at least two days now. I guess she realized it was pointless since I didn’t talk or make eye contact. I couldn’t even imagine what must be going through everyone’s minds right then. They must have thought I was out of my mind. Literally. I’m sure I looked it.
I was showering and going through the daily motions, mostly doing things out of muscle memory rather than actual effort. I was going to have to leave the apartment soon because being cooped up was making things worse, I knew, but it would be harder to not speak out in public. Strangers expected eye contact and polite words and I could provide neither. Not that I cared what people thought, but I didn’t want to be rude just because I was a mess.
I’d stopped playing that night over and over in my head. I realized a few days in that torturing myself by having the memory of Ian’s hands on her was not making anything better. It was bad enough what he had done to me, but to keep reliving it over and over was no one’s fault but my own.
It was hard to keep myself distracted at first. I had no interest in doing anything at all. Sounds annoyed me and every time I tried to watch TV or listen to music I just became increasingly agitated. I tried reading but I couldn’t focus long enough to make it past a few pages. So I did a lot of mundane tasks. I cleaned, organized, cooked. Even when there was nothing to do, I’d clean everything again or I’d bake dozens of cookies and various treats. Stacy lectured me constantly about how fat she was going to get, and I’d never admit it to her, but her nagging me as if everything were normal was exactly what I needed.
One morning after Stacy left for work I was looking for something to do and decided to bake something since I’d already cleaned every nook and cranny of the apartment at least three times in the last couple of days. Only when I started to gather all the ingredients, I noticed we were missing several. I thought about texting Stacy and asking her to pick them up on her way home from work, but decided against it. I could handle going to the store, it would be good for me to get out and get some air.
I didn’t want to have to talk to a cab driver and tell them where to go, so I decided to walk the seven blocks to the grocery store. I kept my head down and stayed as far off the sidewalk as I could to avoid running in to anyone. It wasn’t until someone collided directly into me, almost knocking me into the street, that I finally looked up.
I wished I hadn’t. I wished I had just let a cab run over me right there on the street, because standing directly in front of me was Maggie.
Weeks of pent up emotions came barreling out at once. Something about the smirk on her face just made me snap, and before I could even figure out what I was doing, my fist was making contact with her jaw. A small amount of blood splattered out of her mouth and onto the ground, and I saw red. I knocked her to the ground and started pounding on her face, relentless in my punches. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, even though I didn’t want to. Her face was covered in blood by the time someone finally intervened.
My body was being pulled off of hers as I kicked and screamed, trying to get loose and finish my assault. I spit in her face and continued to call her names as someone dragged me further away and then pulled me into the back seat of a car.
I was still so blinded by my rage that it took me several seconds to even realize where I was. When it registered that I’d been pulled into a car by a stranger, I panicked and immediately thought I was in the back of a police cruiser, but as I took in my surroundings I realized I was in the back of a town car. Before I could make a move to get out, the door on the opposite side opened and someone slid in.
Ian.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to scream and attack him like I had Maggie, but his expression gave me pause. I sucked in a sharp breath and took in his appearance.
“You look like shit,” I said before I could stop myself, then I smacked my hand over my mouth in surprise. Then I officially lost it. I started laughing. Laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, my stomach muscles aching from the strain of being used for the first time in weeks. The confused look on Ian’s face only made me laugh harder, and even as it registered exactly what was happening, I couldn’t stop. I should be angry, yelling at him, freaking out even. Not laughing.
“Adalyn, are you okay?” His tone was cautious and you could tell he was trying to figure out what to do.
“I’m sorry,” I said between laughs and gasps for air. “I don’t know why I’m laughing so hard. It’s just…I just beat the shit out of someone. I’ve never hit anyone in my life! Well besides Stacy. I haven’t even spoken a word in weeks and then all of a sudden I just…I just…attack someone!” I was bent over clutching my stomach, my cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much.
Suddenly the smile Ian had been fighting back as he tried to get a read on me broke free and he joined in my laughter. I don’t know how long we sat there cracking up in the back of his car, but it felt so good to feel something other than anger and hopelessness that I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
Eventually the laughter started to die down, and I laid my head back against the seat, exhausted. I let my head roll to the side, and really took in Ian’s appearance. He really did look horrible. He’d lost weight, his clothes hanging off of his body. His clothes were wrinkled and looked as if he’d been wearing them several days in a row. He had big bags under his eyes, and his eyes looked sunken in, giving his face a hollow look. And despite the smile still lingering on his face, his eyes just looked sad.
It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was in a car with Ian. Like a punch to the gut I came back to reality. I remembered I should be angry and for a split second I considered just jumping out of the car, even though it was moving. But I didn’t want to. Despite the pain I felt being near Ian, I also felt at peace for the first time in weeks. I missed him. I missed him so much it hurt. Hurt more than the pain of what he’d done.
“Why, Ian? Why would you do that to me?”