One For Sorrow

Chapter Two

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the pain that flared through her head. Feeling both dizzy and sick, she closed her eyes and sighed in relief.

“God that was a nasty dream.” She said to herself, relieved that it hadn’t really happened. Flexing her right fist a few times to make sure it had definitely been a dream. Nope, no bonds around her wrists. She had been under a lot of stress and pressure of late. That was it, stress normally gave her nightmares. It was her belief that it was her brain telling her to slow down and relax. Maybe she should take a week off and go away. Go somewhere warm, with blue seas and plenty of sand, far away from here and far away from her job. Maybe she would meet that special someone who would whisk her away. Oh, who was she kidding?

She went to sit up and that’s when she realised it hadn’t been a dream after all. Pain shot through her entire body, starting in her left wrist, which she had tried to push herself up with. She could feel the broken bones shift as she put her weight on it, causing her to crumple back onto the bed with a scream. Her pelvis ached, she was certain it was inflamed. Her arms were achy, as were her legs. It was agonising, she felt sick as realisation struck. It had all been real after all.

She moved on to her back on the bed and began to sob deeply, her body wracked with pain as her head spun out of control as the memories flooded to the forefront of her mind.

After what seemed like a lifetime of crying, she carefully and painfully turned and, with a shaking hand, picked up the phone which sat on the bedside table. She typed in a number from memory, leaving a light imprint of blood on the buttons as she pressed them. Blood? Where had the blood come from?’ She thought to herself. Then it dawned on her, it was from her. The phone rang three times.

“Hello?” Came the groggy and very irritated male voice at the other end of the line.

“G...G...Gerry?” She managed to sob out in a shaky voice after a moment or two, barely daring herself to speak.

“Sweetie? What’s the matter?” The voice suddenly sounded more concerned and awake. She could literally, in her mind, see the man she was talking to sitting bolt upright at the sound of her voice.

“I...I need Charles.” She said before the sound of rustling and light chatter over the line.

“Babes? What’s the matter?” Came the deeply concerned voice of Charles De-Ghoulish.

“I...I need you to...to come to...to mine.” She managed to stammer through sobs as her head and stomach lurched and she fought down the urge to heave.

“Why my sweet, what’s wrong?” The sound of his friend’s distress made his voice sound a little more awake and with it.

She suddenly burst into full-blown tears, through this she managed to blurt out. “I” She paused for a moment and attempted to compose herself as her voice caught with a sob. She tried again, and in a whisper, she finally managed to say, “I’ve been raped.”

“We’re on our way.” Was the final reply before she found she was listening to the dial tone. She hung on there for a few seconds, expecting more, but when there was nothing she let the phone slip from her hand to the bed.

Charles and Gerry had their own key to her place. So carefully and quietly they let themselves in. They climbed the stairs and went straight to the room they knew she would be in and knocked lightly on the door.

“Sweet pea, it’s us,” Charles said through the wooden door before slowly opening it. The sight which presented itself was horrific. She lay on the bed completely naked, curled into the foetal position and shaking like a leaf in the wind. The normally pristine white sheets were stained red beneath her; thick blue rope hung from the four corners of the bed.

“Charles,” Gerry mumbled, his eyes full of tears as he stared on. Charles went and kneeled beside his friend.

“Sweet pea?” She opened her eyes at his voice and looked at him, her eyes dull.

“Oh my dear, let’s get you into the car and down to my office and get you all fixed up shall we,” Charles said as he stroked the damp hair back off her face with great care.

“I...I can’t.” She stammered into his shoulder, suddenly afraid that people she didn’t want to know would find out. Find out about what had happened to her.

“Why ever not? Nobody is in my office, nobody will find out. There will just be me, you and Gerry, I promise.” Charles picked her up carefully from the bed. She grimaced in pain. Gerry found her wool dressing gown and covered her with it, her slight frame a feather in his arms as he carried her down to the lounge, laying her gently on the sofa, she curled back up into a foetal position, pulled her dressing gown around her and resumed her shaking. Charles sat on the floor beside her, stroking her hair lightly whilst Gerry went through to make them all some peppermint tea. As the sound of him moving around her kitchen filtered through, she found a strong sense of comfort and began to let herself relax.

“Tell me what happened,” Charles whispered to her soothingly from where he sat. She shook her head defiantly, and then instantly she regretted it as she cringed in pain. “Come on babe, you need to, you have to make a statement to the police as well.”

“No! Whatever I tell you is in strict confidence, Charles!” She told him through sniffs. “No one else can know.”

“Sweet pea, you have to,” Charles replied, a little shocked that she was refusing to do so. She was the last person he thought wouldn’t go to the police, something really big had happened there.

“No, I don’t.” She retaliated sounding like a four-year-old arguing with her mother.

“What if he does it again?” He asked her in his stern voice. “He could do it to some other defenceless person?”

“Please, Charles.” She near begged as she screwed her eyes shut.

“Well, first things first. We need to get you checked out and take precautionary steps. You don’t want this arsehole’s baby now, do you?” Charles said, trying a new tactic.

“No,” she sighed dejectedly as Gerry came in with three cups of steaming hot tea on a tray.

“Shall we at least try and clean up some of the blood from your face?” Charles said, looking up at Gerry, who nodded and went back into the kitchen and returned with a cloth and a bowl of tepid water. Charles gently cleaned the dried blood from her face as she lay there motionless.

“That’s a bit better. Now, drink your tea and then we will drive you to my office,” Charles told her.

“But...” She started.

“No buts darling,” Gerry spoke, a feminine lilt to his voice. “You need to my sweet.”

She sighed and pulled herself further into a ball, and hugged her knees to her chest, being mindful of her wrist and all her other injuries as she completely ignored the cup of tea Gerry made for her.

“And we will stay with you tonight, my sweet. So you won’t be on your own,” Charles added. “And tomorrow, after you have rested some, we can talk about it.”

“No!” she sniffed.

“No?” Gerry asked, c*****g his head to one side and raising an eyebrow. Was that to them staying or them talking about it? He thought to himself.

“I won’t talk about it.” She said, answering Gerry’s silent question.

“Darling, it will help,” Gerry said to her.

“No, no it won’t.” She said stubbornly. Charles looked up at Gerry and sighed. Gerry shrugged, what more could they do? She had always been a stubborn one, nothing would ever change that.

“Come on, let’s get you checked out.” They helped her to her feet and led her out to their car.