Naked (20 page)

I can only imagine what they’ll say. I don’t know how much the witnesses heard, but I know it was too much, and soon the cops will know the full truth. Soon, they’ll all hate me.

It’s my fault for coming back here.

It’s my fault for thinking I deserved a second chance.

Chapter Thirty-Three

W
hen I finally make it home, my mom’s worried gaze bores into me. My father shakes his head like he always knew I would end up in trouble. Like it was inevitable. It always is when I’m involved.

They talked to the cops, but they don’t know the full truth. They know a man attacked me in the school parking lot after homecoming. They know Jackson tried to save me. They know the cops now have the man in custody.

But they don’t know that this man wasn’t just a creepy janitor. They don’t know that I’ve slept with him before in New York and that he paid me. They don’t know that’s what he wanted from me now.

And it’s probably best that I’m the one to tell them. I’ve lost every bit of power I thought I had. At least this way, I’m asking for whatever punishment I get.

I won’t hesitate. I’ll tell them before we even go inside.

But as soon as I’m out of the car, my mother wraps me in her arms and holds me all the way into the house. My father glances at us, his anger palpable, but my mother doesn’t seem to care right now whether he’s angry.

I want to stop her. I need to tell her what happened. She deserves the truth. But her arms around me turn me into a sobbing mess.

She helps me to my bedroom, like I can’t walk or something. She does know I’m not injured, right? The blood on my arm is from the janitor. It’s not mine.

“Lie down,” she says. “Rest.”

“Wait,” I manage to say. “Mom. There’s something I need to tell you, about tonight, about that man…”

She shakes her head and shushes me. “It doesn’t matter, not right now. He’s in custody, you’re safe, and you need to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

I swallow and let her tuck me in like I’m five years old, and then I let my body collapse in exhaustion.

As I’m falling asleep, I hear my parents whisper-arguing about letting the dog in to sleep next to me. Apparently my mother wins, because a few minutes later Zara is licking my face and trying to jump up on the bed with me.

She ends up jumping up by my feet, and I scoot to make enough room for her. She lays her head against my thigh, and that’s the last thing I remember until morning.

W
hen I finally wake up, I sneak down the hall to find my mother. She’s rolling some dough behind the counter but looks up and smiles when she sees me. I don’t know where my dad is, but it’s better this way. I’ll tell her first. And maybe then, when I tell him, it won’t be so bad.

“Hi, sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

I attempt a smile. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

She nods and puts down the roller, then wipes her hands on the towel by the sink. “What do you need to tell me?”

“It’s about last night. About that man.”

I need it to be me that she hears it from first.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, sitting down beside me, brushing my messy hair down calmingly.

“He wasn’t just the janitor. He…he was one of the men from New York.”

She pauses, and I can feel her entire body tense up. “You mean…”

I nod, tears rushing to my eyes.

She takes her arm from around me and presses it to her mouth. Her eyes squeeze shut and push a few tears down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper, but she doesn’t respond. Maybe it’s the first time that she realizes that I’ll never be normal, not really. Because the horrible things in my past will never really go away. There will always be something coming back to slap me back to reality.

I’m a whore. That’s all I’ll ever be, no matter how hard I try to pretend—

Someone grabs me violently by the arm and whips me around. I face my father, terror rising in my throat.

“What did you just say?”

“Daddy?” I manage to get out through a sob.

“Martin!” my mom yells.

“You’re telling me you
brought
one of those men back with you?”

“No…” I murmur, but there’s no denying it.

My mother rushes forward. Zara barks and growls from the hall, and my father shoves me from him. I nearly fall into the corner of the wall.

“Martin, stop!” my mother yells again.

He pauses for only a moment, as though shocked that she said anything. “Don’t you realize what she’s done? I warned her what would happen. I warned
both
of you.”

Zara’s barking continues as he approaches me. As he unbuckles his belt.

I wince, already preparing for the blow.

He curls the end of the belt around his hand. “You brought this on yourself.”

He raises the belt—

My mother screams and charges into him. She’s not nearly strong enough to overpower him, but he’s taken off guard, and he falls into the wall.

“Don’t you touch her,” my mother says just before he slams her into the wall and they both fall to the ground. He presses her down by her upper arms and pauses, looking at his wife openmouthed. He definitely didn’t expect his obedient wife to fight back, like ever. He pulls back after a second and grabs the belt, tightening the end of the belt around his hand. “You brought this on yourself.”

It happens so fast that I can’t stop him, can’t step in for her the way she did for me. The belt whips through the air and lands on my mother’s forearm—which covers her face just in time—with a sickening crunch. Zara jumps forward, snarling and snapping at his feet. He kicks her away. I scream and throw all my weight into my father. Before I even know it, he slams me into the wall, and my head hits with a bang and a flash of white-hot pain.

Zara barks again and leaps at him. Her big jaws just barely miss his forearm as he twists out of the way. She stops and stands between me and my red-faced father. She barks at him, threatening him to try again.

“Down, Czar!” he commands, but Zara doesn’t even flinch. Her bark turns to a snarl, and my father clenches his fist.

Then the doorbell rings.

Everything freezes.

My father pauses and looks to the door. My mother is still on the ground, tears in her eyes.

“Nora, get the door.”

She wipes her face, then nods and pulls herself up to answer the door. She doesn’t bother fixing her hair, and I wonder if that’s on purpose. Zara licks my hand to see if I’m okay, her eyes still studying my father. I pet her head. She proved herself today.

“Hi. Are you Mrs. Rodriguez?” I hear a deep voice ask. “I just came by to see if Anna’s doing okay.”

There’s a pause at the door, and my father and I look at each other. He waves his finger over his mouth, a gesture to stay quiet.

I wait for my mother to assure them everything is fine, but we can’t take visitors.

This is just a temporary pause before I get my punishment.

I used to think it was punishment for being me. But now I see the rage in him. The desperate desire for control he’ll never have. I couldn’t control whether the janitor came for me. I couldn’t control whether Luis wanted to sell me. And I can’t control whether my dad wants to hit me.

“Not a word,” my father whispers to me.

He stands to the side of the room, out of sight of Jackson’s dad but close enough to hear whatever my mom says.

“Anna’s…” Her voice trembles. She looks over and sees my dad, who wags his finger, and she gives a quick intake of breath. “She’s not really up for a visit right now.”

“Mrs. Rodriguez, is everything okay?”

She nods quickly. Too quickly, it seems to me, and Jackson’s father must see it, too. He glances down, takes in my mother’s full appearance. And that’s when he notices the still-fresh mark on her arm from my father’s belt.

“Mrs. Rodriguez, if there’s anything wrong, all you have to do is ask me to come inside.”

My mom looks at my father, and I think it will be like always. But then she looks at me, and her face hardens.

“Please come inside,” she says. “My husband is—”

My father registers the betrayal she’s about to commit and grabs her by the arm. “You bitch,” he says, pulling her inside—

Jackson’s father moves like lightning. He grabs my father, removes him from my mom, and pins him against the wall.

“You do realize I can arrest you for domestic violence, right?” he yells at my father.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” My father’s yells are muffled by the wall.

Is Jackson’s father always like this? That quick to act? Or had he already suspected my father was abusive? Maybe all this time I thought we were so good at hiding who we really were, but the truth was obvious to everyone but us.

“Nora, do you want me to take him?” he asks.

She swallows and looks at me. Then she turns back and nods.

W
e watch as my father is cuffed and thrown into the back of Jackson’s father’s cop car. I’m not sure what to think about this. Does my father deserve to be arrested? I don’t know.

As soon as the cop car is out of sight, I say, “Dad was right. It was my fault.”

My mother turns and looks me in the eyes for a second. Then she wraps her arms around me again and squeezes me tighter than I’ve ever been hugged. I hug her back, even though I’m not really sure what it means.

She pulls away, not to retreat but to put her hands around my face. “Don’t you ever say that again. You didn’t ask for this.” Her lips quiver. “You only wanted to be loved.” She pulls me back into her arms. “I’m sorry, Anna. I should have been there for you sooner.” Her voice falls apart, a quaking mess, and she sobs into my shoulder. “I should have done something. I should have…” She pauses, then simply says, “I love you.” She presses her mouth into my hair and whispers it over and over again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

And for the first time, I believe her.

M
y memories of New York will always be there, and they might always be stronger. But today, I sleep better than I ever have. My brain is on overload, shutting down to protect itself—it’s about time.

A couple of times, my mom knocks on the door to let me know someone called for me. First Jackson, just to let me know he hopes I’m okay. Then Marissa, Alex, and Jen.

Oh, crap. I hope they’re okay. I hope the plan went okay. I hope Marissa is free of Brandon. I hope Jen no longer feels afraid.

I hope they’re all okay, even if I won’t ever be.

I don’t wake up in time for school the next day, but again, my mother says nothing. She just lets me sleep.

I put Zara outside, because I’m pretty sure I’d be torturing her if I didn’t get her to the bathroom, then I head back to my room.

I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay like this, avoiding everyone. A few times, my mom lets me know my friends called to check on me, but I’m not ready to talk to them. I’m not ready to face their reactions to the truth.

The next day, the phone rings around noon, and my mother answers close enough to my bedroom door that I can hear her talking.

“She’s fine. She’s in her room.”

My first thought is of Jackson, but he’d be at school now.

Then there’s a light knock.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I say, even though I’m not sure that’s true.

“It’s Sarah.”

I open my mouth to yell something back, but that’s not what I expected to hear, so I answer the door. “Sarah?”

Why do I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen her? It’s only been a few weeks.

My mother hands me the phone.

“Hello?”

“Anna!” She sounds tired but happy it’s me. “I heard about what happened. Are you all right?”

“I’ll live. I always do.”

“I’m on my way there if you’re up for a visit. We’re going to have a long talk. It’s been too long. I should be there in less than an hour.”

“Oh,” I say awkwardly. “You’re already on your way?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” I say, secretly happy she’ll be here. As much as shutting myself off from the rest of the world is effective, I’m lonely and bored and starving. And at least I know Sarah doesn’t hate me for the truth.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to get dinner when I get there so we can talk? Or is your mother cooking?”

“Um, I don’t think so. Dinner would be okay, I guess.” I don’t tell her that I haven’t eaten in days, practically.

“Good, be ready in about forty-five minutes.”

My mother is very tense when I hand the phone back to her. There’s more than one thick line on her forehead.

“Sarah’s coming. She’s going to take me to dinner. That okay?”

“Oh.” She straightens. “Do you want to go?”

The question knocks me for a loop. What do I want? The very idea feels weird.

“Yeah. It would be nice to see her.”

“Then you should go. Maybe she can help you talk about some of these things.” She looks away, then turns back and quickly adds, “If that’s what you want.”

I go back to my room and search through my clothes for something to wear. Is it better to wear something Sarah bought me or some of my new things? I go for a happy medium, one of the tops my mom bought with a sweater Sarah bought over it.

Then I stand in the kitchen for a moment, trying to think of something else to do while waiting for Sarah.

I do want to talk to her. I need to. But what will I say? She’s been okay with the truth so far, but there are some things not even she knows about.

Finally the doorbell rings.

My mother answers the door, and I notice she’s put on fresh makeup. She looks much better now than she did when the call came. In fact, she looks better than she ever has. I don’t know when my dad’s coming back, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Today, Mom seems truly alive.

Sarah and my mother exchange a polite greeting, then Sarah asks me if I’m ready. I nod and walk out with her, sending a smile to my mother as we leave.

The car ride is silent except for when Sarah asks me what I want to eat. The rest of the ride, I just watch the houses as they fly by. We end up going to Friendly’s, which is a cheesy little restaurant. It’s the place you take your little brats after soccer games, but it’s good food, so whatever.

When we sit down, we don’t start talking immediately. She orders some coffee, and I get a Coke. Then, once our drinks arrive, she starts asking me questions. Lots of questions. They start off small, simple.