Page 59 of The Hangman's Rope

I needed something to help hold me together, and to that end, I was willing to try anything… especially the thing that reminded me of him.

I unfurled the rope, and tried to remember how this went. Draping it around the back of my neck and crossing the two pieces in front of me, between my breasts. I swallowed hard and twisted the two ends behind my back in an X pattern, and it took me several false tries to get that part right to where I could wind the rope around my body and pull it tight to where it felt the same.

The rope harness was something beautiful when he’d done it, and it had fit so close and so wonderfully tight, the only explanation I had for the sensation of it was that it’d felt like a hug from God himself… even though I knew it was twisted, meant to be dirty, it left me feeling put together and clean. Like when you just stepped out of the longest hottest shower of your life and felt cleansed soul deep.

Only this was less acleanthing as aI felt held togetherkind of a thing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was close, and I found myself crawling back into bed with my stuffed rabbit clutched to mychest. It was childish, I knew, but it made me feel better to have something to hug…

I lay on my side and cried, staring at the bent business card with just a number on it propped against my bedside table’s lamp.

My mom knocked a short time later, but I didn’t answer. She poked her head in the door and sighed, coming over to sit on the bed. I burrowed down deeper under the covers and hid my face.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?” she asked gently.

“I don’t know,” I said and sniffed.

She sighed and put her hand on my back, rubbing over the blanket and asked, “What’s this?” she peeled the covers back and took a deep breath and held it before letting it out slowly.

“I don’t know what this is, or if I should be concerned about it, Lorelai. I’m going to need you to explain this to me.”

I swallowed hard, and felt bad, but I lied about it.

“It’s just something I read or saw a video about. It’s supposed to feel like a hug and help with feeling anxious so you can sleep.”

Her face crumpled into lines of sadness mixed with confusion and she said, “I don’t know how to help you and it’s breaking my heart,” she said.

I pushed myself into a sitting position and said, “I don’t know how to help me, either.”

“You need to talk to someone… if not me…”

I nodded rapidly and said, “I know someone, but you’re not going to like it.”

She searched my face and there was nothing but love, compassion, and concern in it.

“Justtalk to me,baby,” she said. “I promise to just listen and to not judge.”

I hugged my knees, crushing my stuffed bunny between them and my chest.

“I don’t want to worry you and Dad any more than I already have,” I said quietly, dashing at the stray tear rolling down my cheek.

“Let me handle your father,” she said. “I just want to make things better.” Her voice cracked, and she sniffed.

I felt trapped. I so badly wanted my mommy’s opinion, but by the same token, I didn’t want to betray Hangman’s trust in the slightest.

I thought about it, warring with myself and decided to do my best to split the difference.

“When I was in the hospital, I met someone. A veteran that would walk past my room visiting someone else…”

The lie came surprisingly easy. I told my mother all about Hangman, and how we’d started talking and how he’d helped me, telling me about some of the ways he coped with things after coming back from overseas. She listened, rubbing the top of my foot through the covers, and said…

“And you feel like you can talk to him?”

I nodded and she looked thoughtful.

“Have you talked to him since coming home?”

I shook my head.

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