bawling my eyes out like a fucking pansy-arse girl.
“Ah, hell kid,” Bob says when I finally lift my head and jam the heels of my hands into my eye sockets to keep them from leaking. “It breaks my heart to see you kids hurtin’ the way you are. She’ll come around, you’ll see. You just work on keeping your nose clean and you tell that parole board whatever you have to in order for them to sleep better at night and you’ll be home in time for Christmas.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, though the thought of spending another Christmas alone held little appeal. At least inside I’d be spending the day with others. Despite what Bob had said, I was pretty sure that if Ana hadn’t come around by now, there was a good chance she wasn’t going to. It was just another of life’s losses that I’d have to get used to, but as I sat there, staring down at her picture and talking to her father, the kind of father I’d never had, I realise that getting over Ana Belle will be hardest thing I’ve ever done, and the lure of the white line no longer calls to me the way it used to.
“Christmas,” I say and shake my head in disbelief. “Can’t wait.”
Since I met Ana my whole life feels as though it’s spiralling out of control. If I could hold on to her, even just for a minute, I feel like maybe it would slow down long enough for me to get my bearings, but the spinning never stops and neither does the hurt. I smile like I’m excited about coming home, but all I feel is numb and pain, like the two are trading blows in the ring. Truth is, without Ana, I have no home. And that hurts more than any of the losses I’ve encountered so far.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Ana
The day of the hearing was quite possibly the worst day of my life, next to the day my mum died—and the day Scott held me down and stole my virginity after pulverising my face, that is. Holly had stayed over the night before, but even her usually cheerful disposition was absent today. Instead, it was like a black cloud had settled over the Belle household and there wasn’t a chance in hell it was going to lift.
I’d made the decision to allow my lawyer to speak on my behalf, and would be waiting out the verdict here at home. Despite my bravado in the supermarket, I couldn’t stand the thought of facing Scott again and I didn’t trust myself not to go postal if the judge let him walk free. Our evidence was concrete, the police had collected DNA and sperm samples from underneath my nails and from the rape kit, and they’d also taken photographic evidence of the bruises he’d left on my face and body. I needed to have faith in the system. I needed to know that the humiliation and horror of having strangers poke and prod at me wasn’t all for nothing.
Holly and I walk into the kitchen and my entire family stare up at me with wide, pitying eyes. My dad is fully dressed for court. He and Kerry will be sitting in on the hearing. I wanted to be the girl strong enough to face her attacker and watch as they carted him off to jail, but I’m not. I’m just trying to deal with what happened the best way I can, and I hope there’s no shame in that.
Dad walks over and pulls me into his arms, engulfing me in the smell of leather and his aftershave. He doesn’t say a word, but after a minute I felt his big body shaking with unshed tears, and the carefully constructed wall inside me holding everything together just crumbles.
Gut wrenching sobs tear from inside me and fill the room with their weak and horrible sound. I shake and sink to the floor and Dad sinks with me. He never once lets me go and he never says a single word, but I feel safe and loved inside his embrace so I cry out every tear I have for what Scott Turner had done to me, and I cry some more that the man I love is behind bars and that my best friend is pregnant with an unwanted baby and the fact that my mum isn’t here to hold me today like she should be.
And then I dry my eyes and I rise and I pour myself a bowl of cereal that I don’t eat, and I sit down on the couch with my best friend and try to pretend that today is just like any other.
Five hours into our chick flick marathon, Holly runs screaming and tearing through the house to throw up the ten zillion calories she’d just consumed. I want to throw up too, but for different reasons. I should get up and make sure she’s okay, but my whole body feels numb and I don’t think standing would be the best thing for me right now. Just as she’s coming back from the bathroom, my phone vibrates against the tabletop. We both freeze as we stare down at the screen displaying my dad’s picture.
“You gotta answer that, Ana.”
I tuck my hands beneath me and gently rock from side to side. I don’t know if the swaying is helping or making me feel worse but right now I’m a ball of nervously sick energy, and it’s the only thing keeping me sane and not hurling my phone at the wall. “I can’t.”
Holly snatches up the phone and says, “Hey Bob. No, she’s here. She’s just having a hard time dealing. Uh- huh, okay, I’ll let her know.”
She hangs up the phone, sets it back down on the table and takes my hand in hers. She gives me a sad smile. Tears spill over her lashes and onto her cheeks and I feel bile rise up my throat. “Seven years. No parole.”
The relief I think I should feel at hearing those words doesn’t come. I’m glad he’s being locked away, but no amount of time behind bars will ever bring back what he took from me and what he will continue to take every time I think about lying down with a man. There is no amount of years great enough to make up for what he’s sentenced me to.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Ana
One Month On
The phone rings for a fourth time and I contemplate not answering, but I know I have to. I’ve already spoken to Holly three times this morning, one more and I’m going to be late, but I can’t not answer, especially not today. In just a few short hours, she’ll be taken into a room to have her baby aborted. I can’t even imagine what she might be going through, the fear and uncertainty she must feel. If I could switch places with her I would, in a heartbeat. I hate to think of my best friend going through this all by herself, and that’s why I’ll be gluing myself to her side for the entire day. I will not let her go through this alone.
I pull the receiver from the cradle and press my ear to my shoulder to hold it in place while I pour some Nutri-Grain into a bowl. “Hello?”
There’s static over the line and then I hear a click and a smooth husky voice fills my ear. “Ana?”
I sit down hard in the kitchen chair, knocking over my bowl full of cereal. There’s milk running all over the tabletop and down onto the floor but I can’t move to clean it up; my heart’s hammering so hard in my chest I feel like it might explode. I’m not ready for this. I don’t know what to say.
“Ana? You there?”
“I’m here,” I whisper, though I’m at a loss for what comes next.
A beat passes and I’m beginning to think he might have hung up. I’m wondering if maybe I should, and then he whispers, “I miss you so fucking much, baby girl.” And all I can do is hold onto the phone and cry.
“I only get six minutes, darlin’.” There’s so much pain and vulnerability in his voice I want to reach through the phone and take him in my arms, but I can’t. The reality that I might never do that again hits me and I cry harder. “Tell me you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m running late to pick someone up, though,” I say and then regret it instantly. The sound of his voice stirs up so much pain and bitterness, my heart still clamps in on itself when I think of how much I still love him and how much I wish it were enough, but I can’t deny it’s still a good sound to hear. “Are … are they treating you well?”
He chuckles, “It’s a prison, Ana, not a day spa. But yeah, I keep my nose clean and I get by.”
“Have you seen him?” I whisper. I know I don’t need to elaborate. We both know there’s only one person I’d
