Unmasking Charlotte (a Taboo Love series) (14 page)

Time to come up with a plan to make Charlotte Fisher mine. First up, get her to go
out on a date with me.

Chapter Six

Charlotte

You are cordially invited to attend a government clusterfuck in which you will have the opportunity to rehash agonizing memories, come face to face with the man who raped you, and then relive the worst day of your life. Oh, yeah, and after you spill your guts, we may let said man free. To roam the streets. With you. Like it never happened.

Well, maybe it doesn’t say that exactly, but it might as well. I finally received the notice for DeShawn’s parole hearing a few days ago, and I can’t stop reading it. Over and over. Yet, I can’t seem to process it. How could they possibly let him out of prison after what he did to me? After what he did to my family?

The parole hearing is less than a week away and I haven’t a clue what I am going to do. I am normally so decisive. I am not a hem-and-hawer. I do
n’t waffle. I make up my mind and stick to it. No regrets. But, now, I just don’t know. I feel lost. I can’t decide if I even want to go. In fact, I have been avoiding Delilah for days now because I know she will sense something is wrong and I am not sure if I want to tell her about this whole thing. She will insist that I go, and then insist on coming with me, and I don’t know if I want her to see or hear what is going to be said. She may be the one person I told about my past, but she still doesn’t know everything. It’s bad enough that I also spilled my guts to Parker. I didn’t tell him the whole kit and caboodle either. I just hope he doesn’t tell Nick or Calvin. I know those three are thick as thieves. And if Nick finds out, shit. He can’t keep a secret from Delilah to save his life.

I am brought back to reality when my work phone rings.

“Good afternoon. Top Talent. This is Charlotte.”

“Hey, sweetie,” says the voice I can never mistake.

“Hi, Daddy!”

“I am at work, so I need to make this quick, honey. I am putting in
for my time off next week. What time am I picking you up and should I take off any extra time?”

“Huh?” I am completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Wednesday,” he responds calmly.

“Wednesday?”

“Charlotte. The hearing. What time do I need to pick you up to make sure we get to Harlem on time?”

A cold chill shoots up my spine from simply hearing the word “Harlem.”

“Daddy,” I whine, “I haven’t decided if I am even going.” If I was standing up, I would probably be stomping my foot like a spoiled teenager.

“There is nothing to decide. We are going. All of us.”

“What do you mean, ‘all of us’?” I ask nervously.

“You, me, Mom, and your brother, Tommy.”

“You guys don’t have to come. I will deal with it.”

“I know we don’t
have
to come, sweetheart, we want to. We want to be there for you. To support you.”

“Fine, but I don’t want Tommy there. He has been through enough with this shi - stuff-already, and I don’t want him reliving this nightmare. God only knows what is going to happen or come out at the hearing. Plus, he is in his last year of college and I want him focused on his studies.”

“Charlotte,” my dad grinds out.

“Those are my terms, dad. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

“You drive a hard bargain, young lady. It’s a deal. I will talk to Tommy.”

“Okay. See you next week.”

“Bye, sweet girl.”

More Charlotte…

We make it to the courthouse with a little extra time to spare. I need a few minutes alone to get my thoughts together. I excuse myself to the restroom and let my parents know that I will meet them inside. God bless them, but they have been up my ass for the past few days, calling and texting constantly. And
driving in with them from The City was exhausting. My mom kept pretending to check her lipstick in the flip down mirror, but I know she was keeping her eyes on me. Like they were worried I was going to chicken out and disappear into the back seat. Or take a flying leap out the window of a moving vehicle. Crazy.

However, they know it, and I know it. Once I make a decision, I stick to it. And I decided that I am going to go to this stupid meeting, and I am going to tell them everything. I mean everything. And I am sure there will be a few people who are not going to like what I have to say.

I look at myself in the bathroom mirror one last time, giving myself a little extra pep talk.
You can do this
, I repeat to myself a few times. I push off the sink and head out. One foot in front of the other, I walk through the doors of the courtroom. It’s not a courtroom per se, but it is set up like one, and we are in the courthouse, so I guess technically, it is a courtroom. Now I am babbling. I scan the room for my parents and they are sitting on the right side of the room, in the front row. Seriously?

I take a seat between them and take a deep breath.
I can do this.
I hear the door behind me open and close a few times, but don’t bother to turn around or look to see who is coming through it. It doesn’t matter who it is anyway. I am going to say my peace and get the fuck out of Dodge. I hear a different door all the way to the left side of the room, but as before, I don’t look. I hear chains rattling loud enough to know that DeShawn has arrived from prison. Thankfully, it’s only minutes later when the doors at the front open and the parole board shuffles in. Four men, one woman. Strangers holding my fate in their hands. Again.

The board member in the middle speaks briefly to the captive audience, letting us know that anyone who wants to speak will have the opportunity. Whether it be in support of DeShawn’s release, or against. As I finally look to my left and to my right, I am hoping that these strange faces are more of those who are opposed.

A couple of people speak. I am not really paying attention. I just keep reviewing in my head what I want to say. What my point is. What my goal is. I want to make sure that I speak clearly and precisely. I don’t want to get emotional - no crying. I want to state facts. I want to show my strength. I need them to hear me. I need them to see me.

I know my time has come as the board addresses us again. “Before we open statements to the public here, we would first like to hear from the victim.”

Before I am able to stand, my mom gives my hand a good squeeze, and my dad leans over, whispers what I need to hear, giving me his strength. I rise slowly from the bench and make my way to the aisle where a lectern has been set up. I straighten my back, hold my chin up high, and begin.

“Good afternoon, sirs and madam. My name is Charlie Fish…” I stop midsentence when I realize my mistake. I clear my voice and begin again. “…Ahem, excuse me. My name is Charlotte Miller. And with all due respect, I am not the victim, I am the survivor. Because that is all I have been doing this past decade. I was barely a teenager when this man raped me. He took a lot of things from me that day, my innocence being one of them. He also took
my ability to trust and my capacity to love. And tragically, left me with a fear of black men.”

I choke up when that comes out of my mouth. I don’t know where it came from. I have never actually said those words out loud. I mean, I haven’t been able to be intimate with a black man since the rape, but I never thought I was fearful of all black men.
What the fuck!
Then the realization of what I just said devastates me. I turn to my father who continues to look lovingly at me and mouth the words “I’m sorry” to him. He nods in understanding, but then smiles at me, urging me to continue. That man loves me unconditionally, and I could never have asked for a more perfect father.

“There’s one more thing that disgusting excuse for a human took from me. Something so devastating to a girl, that it alone should keep his sorry ass locked up for the rest of his life. After the night when DeShawn raped me – I keep emphasizing the word rape so no one in this room can forget what he did to me – I started having nightmares. Every night. They were so vivid and so sca
ry, that I started sleeping in my little brother’s room. My poor little brother, who at the tender age of eight, sat through the trial of the man who raped his big sister.”

I shake my head briefly, getting myself back on track, take a breath, and continue.
“After about two weeks, I was able to start sleeping by myself again, as long as the lights were on, of course. Anyway, it was just around that time when one night I started screaming at the top of my lungs, pain searing through my stomach like I had been stabbed. I folded myself in half, unable to tolerate the agony I was in. My loving and supportive parents came running in to check on me, as I was unable to straighten out my body. My father immediately called 911.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to contain my emotions. What I am about to tell this room full of strangers has never left my lips before. The only people who know the whole truth are my parents. Tommy doesn’t even know. Thank god I told him not to come.

“By the time I got to the hospital, the paramedics had given me medicine to dull the pain. It was unbearable.”

I grab my stomach subconsciously and rub it, tryi
ng to make the pain go away; however, the devastation that occurred can never be soothed.

Nobody interrupts me, so I take another deep breath and continue. “I remember that day like it was yesterday. The look on the doctor
’s face when he read the results. The pity in his eyes. The sound of my mother sobbing in the corner. The tears streaming down my father’s face. Over a decade later, and I just can’t erase the memory of it all.”

I haven’t even looked in DeShawn’s direction since the hearing started. I have no idea what he looks like or what he is wearing, I co
uldn’t bring myself to look; nevertheless, I know that the next thing I have to say needs to be directed at him, not the parole board. My father knows what is coming, so he slides to the end of the row, grabbing and holding my hand. I turn my body to face DeShawn, and look at him for the first time since that fateful night. What was once a handsome, young athlete, has been replaced by a disgusting thug, with a face covered in prison tattoos. If I could bring myself to feel anything, it would be pity. Fortunately, I feel nothing, which is exactly what he deserves. I look him in the eyes, square my shoulders, and carry on.

“That was the day that I found out I was pregnant.” DeShawn’s eyes go wide, but that’s not what has caught my attention. It was the loud gasp from the back row that has me turning around.

And there it is. My sanity. My rock. My stubborn, pig headed, never listens to me, best friend, Delilah. Her hand is covering her mouth, tears streaming down her beautiful face. But that’s not all I see. She is encased between two devastatingly handsome men; Nick, whose jaw is locked tight, his eyes cold as ice, staring at DeShawn; and Parker, who looks like someone just shot his puppy. How’d these bitches find out? Thank god they’re here.