Page 13 of Deprivation

After we wait curbside in the cold for forty minutes with this jack ass’s arm draped around me, our Town Car finally arrives, and we all return inside. We start toward the highway, heading west of the city toward my much-needed shower when I suddenly feel a hand behind my back, sliding down to my backside. I look up across the car and notice Crystal is kissing Tyler’s Adam’s apple.Sure, she can do it. I also notice her left hand is down the front of his pants. I try not to gasp as he smirks at me from over her unruly dirty blonde hair.

Almost simultaneously, another hand attempts to dip into my shirt. As I try and extricate it, his left hand moves from my backside to my waist, holding me still with surprising strength and agility. His mouth suddenly slams on top of mine with his thick, wet, tobacco tasting tongue engulfing mine.What kind of fresh hell is this?

I pull my unwilling face from his, just so he can attach himself to my throat.Yuck!

He clutches me tightly against him as he attempts to devour me in one swallow. Soon, I become painfully aware of the firm bulge in his pants, which is burrowed into my side.Holy hell, that is definitely not happening.

Peering out the window at passing exit signs, I try to get my bearings on where we are. I attempt to calculate the stealthy kung fu maneuvers it might require to free myself from his slimy clutches and throw myself out of this moving vehicle. I need to plan my timing correctly so when my carcass is found on the side of the road, at least I’m not in my rescue squad’s jurisdiction. That might finally seal the lid on this mortification coffin I’m trapped within.

Trying to pull myself away from this octopus, I avoid looking across from me, not wanting to entertain what’s transpiring there. Feeling my hands shake, I keep replaying in my mind,How could this have gone so wrong?

As if God was on another call and just returned to find me in such a quandary, He suddenly grants my unanswered prayer and the Town Car pulls up in front of my building. Pulling myself together, I will the driver to come quickly and open the door to this agonizing crypt and let me the hell out of here.

“You going to let me up, sweet Kat?” Smith moans into my ear.

I fold my arms firmly around my chest, trying to anchor my erratic breathing. Choking back bile, I shake my head and pray I can get out of here before they make me pay for the detailing bill when my breakfast decorates the leather seats of this vehicle.

“Oh, come on, Kat,” he whispers, his hot, tobacco-laced breath in my ear. “At least tell me you’ve had your cherry popped? I’m happy to take care of it for you.” My skin crawls in disgust.

The door swings open and I dive for my long-awaited exit like I’m jumping from a burning building. Not looking back into the den of iniquity, I hear Dave Matthews singing his heart out through the car’s expensive sound system. Standing upright, I almost sprint to the hot shower calling my name. I’ll never be able to listen to “Crash into Me”by the Dave Matthews Band ever again.

Chapter Six

Present Day

Kat

“Please, stop!” I yell, pleading with the monster wrapped around me. Shoving against the full weight of him, I struggle for several minutes before the scene changes and I notice a strikingly handsome man with thick, dark brown hair glaring down at me. Laughing ensues. Lots and lots of maniacal laughing.

“You can’t do anything right, Kat,” the man spits. “You can’t do anything right. You can’t do anything right.” The acidic phrase is sprayed on me in succession, like a gardener spraying weedkiller.

I spring forward with a start, awakening from another restless night covered in a sheen of sweat. As my heart rate starts to calm, I think,This is your wake-up call.It’s my day off, for God’s sake. I should’ve tried one of the pills Jake prescribed. I don’t know why I’m so hesitant about taking them. I decide to avoid coffee this morning, in the hope I can grasp a few more hours of sleep later. Maybe I’ll go for a run or do something else to exhaust me a bit before I take a long soak in the tub and try for a ‘Kat nap.’

* * *

As I return to my home, panting from the long run around the neighborhood, I hear my cell phone. It’s my mother. Well, at least she waited until 7:00 a.m. to call this time. I bend over and lay my phone onto the driveway to answer while stretching out my back and legs. “Hi, Mom,” I say, forcing myself to greet her with optimism.

“Good morning, Katarina. How are you?” she asks. Do I wait to see if she is interested in an answer, or just say, “fine”? No need contemplating this for long. “I wanted to see if you’d mind picking up a bottle of champagne to bring with you on Sunday. I thought it could be your gift to Rachel and Steven and scratch one more item off of my to-do list,” she says proudly, like she can’t believe she’s found such a great solution to my not giving a fuck.

“Sure, Mom,” I pant above the phone as I continue to stretch my quads.

“Are you okay, dear? You don’t sound well,” she says.Hmm. Would it really matter? Could I use this as a way to get out of going on Sunday? Never mind, I love seeing Jenna and Luke, so I’ll just focus on my niece and nephew. They’re too young to annoy me as much as the rest of the family does.

“I’m fine, Mom, just finished a run,” I reassure her. “I was just about to go get in the shower and start my day. What’ve you got planned?” I ask, attempting to be the engaging child I know Rachel would be.

“Oh, you know, dear, lunch with friends, and then Dad and I are going to see that new show at the Altria theater tonight. It’s gotten rave reviews,” she shares with gleeful anticipation. Funny, when did they get into productions at the Altria? Maybe attending all of Rachel’s school plays got them hooked. “Well, I’ll let you get to it, Kat. See you Sunday.”

Entering my home through my garage, I take a look around. It’s a quaint little place, almost a bungalow style. It’s my sanctuary. An open kitchen sits adjacent to a great room with a big bay window on the first floor. The cozy breakfast nook to the left of the kitchen overlooks my back yard. The lot itself is approximately a third of an acre, but only a small portion contains grass and a concrete patio for entertaining. The remainder of the yard is dotted with trees and backs to an adjacent property of similar layout. The concrete patio holds a bistro table and chairs for dining and two Adirondack chairs that face a small fire pit for drinks and conversation.

Past the kitchen and down a short hallway lies my bedroom. A queen-sized bed covered in a lush white duvet is flanked by antique nightstands along the far wall, a walk-in closet sits to the left, and a door connecting the master bath sits to the right. The second floor contains two smaller rooms and a three-quarter bath with shower. I rarely venture upstairs, unless it’s too cold or rainy for a run, as I keep a treadmill in one of the rooms overlooking the backyard. The remaining room houses a guest bed.

Several hours later, after a long, warm soak, breakfast, an herbal tea, and the most boring journal article I could find on endocrine emergencies I try to sleep. I crawl into bed, close my eyes, insert my EarPods, and choose something soothing to invite sleep. I’m unaware of how long I’ve been listening to the calming Celtic inspired melodies from Enya before sleep takes over and the unwanted images return.

Various men from my past come into view, sneering, mocking, and disparaging me. The scene rapidly changes, and I determine I’m in a hospital, not as a provider, but a patient. Lying on a stretcher staring out of a window, I appear devastated and alone. Memories of losing my child come to mind. The pregnancy a shock. How could this have happened? I recall the sharp, searing pain in my left lower pelvis that brought me to this moment. A doctor comes in to view, delivering my fate. “Miss Kelly, it appears you have what we call an ectopic pregnancy. Given the way your ultrasound reads, you’ll unfortunately lose that ovary in our attempts to treat this. Luckily, God gave you two ovaries, so you should still be able to have children one day.” The conversation cloaks me like a fog on an early fall morning. I don’t understand. My ex-boyfriend, Gabe, stands abruptly after the doctor departs and spits, “God, you can’t do anything right, Kat.”What? Did he want me to have a baby?I shake back and forth in the bed, my body trying to force myself back into consciousness and away from the brutal reality of long ago.

Panting, my eyes spring open and I roll to my side, feeling like I might vomit. These awful nightmares are relentless. Why didn’t I try that damn sleeping pill last night? From now on, I’ll settle for whatever sleep I can get versus returning to the scene of the crime, putting myself through this agony twice in one day. As my head clears, I note my EarPods are still in, and instead of soothing Enya chanting, I’m listening to Eminem and Rihanna sing about the “Monster” inside of my head.Well, that’s fitting.

Getting up and heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, I decide to take another shower to clear my head. I’ll blast some uplifting dance music through my Bluetooth to shift my mood. Ah, “Cheap Thrills” by Sia is practically my anthem for dressing up and going out to party. I shirk out of my clothes and jump into the shower to dance with Sia like she’s performing a private concert just for me. My impressive twerking skills are rudely interrupted by the sound of my cell phone.If I get out of this damn shower to find my mother needs me to bring petit fours to this ridiculous celebration on Sunday, I swear I’ll change my number.

---