Instead, I remain sitting on my bike until she gets out of her car. For a minute, I don’t make a move to follow her. I’m content to watch her hesitant steps carry her across the parking lot until she disappears through the doors of the center. Now, it’s time for me to make my move.
Rushing across the pavement, I don’t stop for anything or anyone. I don’t slow down until I’m through the same doors my girl disappeared through a few minutes ago. When I get to the room they meet in, I see Denise standing outside. She’s always out here to greet the members as they make their way inside the room.
“Killer, what are you doing here?” Denise asks when I stop next to her.
“You know why I’m here. How is she doin’?” I question, knowing I can’t have any details based on the law, but I can be told if she’s okay.
“It’s a daily process. I’ve told you this. I’m hoping today is a major breakthrough for her,” she replies.
“Why is that?” I immediately need to know.
“Gwen is getting up to share her story. She still hasn’t talked to Kim or anyone else, has she?” Denise questions me.
“No. None of us know how to help her. She still won’t let Kim or any of the women come to a session with her, so we know how to break down her defenses to talk to us. Denise, I need this. I need to be in there to hear what she’s been through,” I order, knowing down to my bones I need to hear her story and be there even if she doesn’t know I’m there.
Denise looks at me for several seconds, trying to determine what game I’m playing. She’ll find the truth in my eyes about how I feel for Gwen. I won’t hide anything from her.
“If I let you do this, you better keep it to yourself. Kim or anyone else can’t know what I’m about to do. If I didn’t see how bad you love that girl, I wouldn’t even be thinking of helping you. Don’t make me regret this Killer,” she warns me.
Nodding my head, I listen as Denise tells me to wait in the hall until I hear her announce Gwen about to get up to speak. Then I can sneak in and remain against the wall. I’ll still be able to hear my girl speak from there. It also allows me to slip back out the door once Gwen is done talking. I’m only here for her and don’t need to hear what anyone else has to say. They aren’t my business.
The second I hear Gwen’s soft, melodic voice begin to speak, I’m through the door. My eyes land on her small form as she curls in on herself. Gwen is trying to protect herself even now.
“Growing up, I didn’t have your normal childhood. I wasn’t allowed to go to school. Instead I had tutors. If I got too close to them, they were quickly replaced with someone new. This process repeated until I gave up trying to let someone else in my life. Friends were only things I read about in the books I managed to hide from my father and his men. I never had a friend growing up. There was no one for me to talk to or share things with. The only thing I could do was sit in silence and realize there was nothing I could do to change it. The only time I could talk to anyone was if my father had a party. Then, kids my age were allowed to speak to me because it would allow my father to seem as if he was a kind, loving father.
“It was just my father and me from the time I turned three until a few years ago when I managed to get away from him with the help of my sister. My mom simply disappeared one day without a word. I didn’t ask about her until I turned four. That was the first day I was beaten so bad I spent almost two weeks in bed. I wasn’t taken care of by anyone; I was simply left to suffer in silent misery.
“When I was healed enough to move around, I became another servant of my father’s. At four-years old I was expected to clean, help cook, learn from the men and women who worked for him. If I didn’t do my tasks good enough, I was taken to a room and beaten again. Or I’d be locked in a closet with no food, water, or light for days on end. Even when I wasn’t in the room for a punishment, I couldn’t eat hardly any food at all.
“My room was cold with no insolation, walls, or anything else. I didn’t have toys, warm blankets, or even warm clothes to wear. My bed was nothing more than a cot placed in the middle of a desolate area in the attic with a few other people. The only time I saw the nice bedroom decorated for me was if my father was having a party or some event he needed me by his side for. Then I was permitted to enter my ‘other bedroom’ to dress in fancy clothes and make sure everyone thought I was protected and loved. The second he could, my father forced me back into the rags I was wearing, and the beatings and torture would start again.
“There isn’t a day I wasn’t yelled at for the slightest infraction. Told I was useless, a waste of space, someone who should’ve been aborted instead of born, and anything else my father could say to hurt me. I was kept dirty, unkempt, and not allowed much other than a bowl of water to wash myself up with once or twice a week. There was never any love or care from him unless people were around. People other than those who worked for him. Those people didn’t count to him because they were his servants. Nothing more than I was as his daughter.
“Every year I only had more and more work added on to my daily list of tasks to complete. He didn’t give a shit if I got any sleep, ate, or took care of basic human necessities. If I tried to get out of work, I was beaten. The only time I’d cut corners to try and get my work done was when exhaustion was taking over completely. There were so many days I could barely keep my eyes open while I tried to work in the house my father kept us all locked up in.
“The older I got, the more his men would taunt me about raping me. They wanted me and didn’t make any bones about it. From the day I got my first period, I was old enough for them. At least that’s what they told me on a daily basis. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for the men in case they decided to go against my father and rape me. Do you know what that’s like?” Gwen says, speaking slow and quietly as tears stream down her face.
Gwen’s body is folded in on herself as she recounts what she’s been through. Never in a million years did I think things were as bad as what she’s explaining to these women in the room. The feeling to race to her and hold her in my arms rushes through every fiber of my being. Instead, I fight the feelings and remain rooted to where I’m at in the back of the room. After taking a deep breath, Gwen goes on.
“When I got old enough, one of my father’s associates started to take an interest in me. His name is Neil. He didn’t have any qualms about making it known he wanted me simply to have me obey him as a trophy wife. One night, when he came over for dinner, he took things from me no man has a right to take. After dinner, Neil walked me to the room I used when company was over. Instead of letting me go in the room alone, he followed me in. That was the night I lost my virginity because Neil raped me. No one would help me or stop him. Everyone kept their distance and didn’t say a word because they knew they’d be punished.
“I had to clean myself up alone and then make my way back to help clean the house after Neil left. Until right this second, I don’t honestly know if anyone has ever been told about what he did to me. When the rape happened, he was extremely brutal, and I bled for several days. There wasn’t an inch of my skin that wasn’t bruised, cut open, or without pain. I had never felt anything like it before in my life. Including all the beatings I had in the past.