Ruining You

  He lightly laughs, and with a smirk on this face, says, “Thanks, my mother gave them to me, whoever she was. Now, what did your mother give you?”

  “Everything, I guess. My dark hair and gray eyes are the same as hers. My height is from my dad though.”

  “Are you close to your parents?” he asks with eyes fixed on me.

  “I think I used to be. It seems so long ago now.” He seems really interested in what I have to say. “What about you? Are you close to your parents?”

  He leans closer and looks deep into my eyes. “Define close. Am I close to driving them to drink? If my dad wasn’t a Southern Baptist preacher, that would be a definite yes. Am I close to driving them crazy? Absolutely. They’re my adoptive parents, and no, I don’t know my biological parents.” He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his thick mane of hair. “What’s your story? From what I hear, you’ve been here almost three months and still haven’t spoken up in group session.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I choose to ignore him and look at my iPod like it holds the secrets to the universe.

  “Are you always like this?”

  “Always like what?” His question catches me off guard, and I glance up at him.

  “Snarky, stuck-up girl one second, lost little girl the next?”

  Rolling my eyes, I look back down at my playlist.

  Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, “Don’t get mad. I just ‘call’ it, like I ‘see’ it.”

  I shift to my knees and lean towards him, placing my elbows on the arm of the chair, “What about you? You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the whole Mr. Mystery thing going on, and not to mention, most girls would just about wet themselves when you play your guitar. What brings you here? Your eyes are way too clear to be detoxing from drugs or alcohol.”

  His eyes twinkle, and I can tell he is enjoying the little byplay we have going on. He says, “I’ll show you my ‘brand’ of crazy if you show me yours?”

  Laughing out loud, I tell him, “I don’t know if I have just one ‘brand’. I think I shop at the thrift-store of crazy.”

  We both laugh. For the first time in months, I don’t feel so alone. So isolated. My chest expands a little. I feel as if I can take a deep breath without every emotion pouring out of me. Watching him, I notice that every so often he shakes his hair out and runs his fingers through it. Why this makes me smile, I have no clue, but it does.

  “So, Eli-after-the-prophet-not-the-football-player, let’s leave show and tell for another day. Why don’t you tell me about what kind of music you like to play?”

  Shrugging, he says, “Of course, the classics like Guns and Roses and Nirvana. Current music that I like would be Alabama Shakes, Jason Aldean, and Blake Shelton.”

  I raise my eyebrows in question, “Country music? Now, I really didn’t see that coming.”

  “What? Are you stereotyping? My parents are whiter than you, and we do live in the South. I may not rock the cowboy boots, big belt buckle, or jacked-up truck, but I like feeling a little twang here and there,” he says, emphasizing his country accent.

  “Sorry, my bad,” I laugh and say to him.

  “Give me your iPod. Let’s see what you are rocking.” He grabs my iPod and proceeds to scroll through my music.

  He laughs at a couple of things and looks up at me.

  “You give a whole new meaning to the word ‘eclectic’. Let’s see, you have Kanye, Broken Bells, Karmin, Usher, and what the hell is this? Justin Bieber? I really don’t know what to say. I’m praying you have younger siblings that you play this for.” He presses play and pulls the earphones out so the song blares from the speaker.

  “Give me that!” I say, grabbing for my iPod. He stands up and holds it above our heads. He’s not that much taller than me, but he is wiry, and I try to reach around him as he bends backwards. He switches it from hand to hand, and I try my best to snag it. I am suddenly overwhelmed with laughter as the idiot starts singing.

  “As long as you love me, I’ll be your platinum, I’ll be your silver, I’ll be your gold. As long as you lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-love me,” he sings to me as he plays keep away.

  We have an audience now. Everyone is laughing along with us. I stop trying to get my iPod back because it’s not working anyway. My side hurts from laughing so hard. Giving up, I flop back down in my chair and work to give him my best “I’m pissed” face. Finally, he tosses my iPod in my lap and throws himself down beside me with a sexy grin on lips.

  Ooh, I so have him now. Licking my lips, I narrow my eyes and say, “Ok, Mr. ‘Hate on my Biebs’. For a hater, you sure do know the lyrics pretty well.”

  He bursts into laughter, “First off, every radio station in the land has that song on rotation every hour. I’d have to be brain dead not to know the lyrics.”

  I roll my eyes again, and he snorts.

  “Please be careful. I’d hate for those witchy eyes to roll right out of your head.”

  I laugh at him. I can’t help it. No one has made me laugh in the last couple months. The pressure starts to build. How can I even laugh again? Grabbing my chest, I think back to the last time I really laughed. I was sitting in JT’s truck with him and Cal on the way to the party.

  “Hey,” JT says and pulls me to him, “quit giving my hugs away.” I laugh and kiss his cheek.

  “Earth to Jay. Hello. Jay?”

  Lost in my memory, I finally hear Eli talking to me, and I turn towards him. He appears blurry through the tears that fill my eyes.

  “Talk to me. Where did you just go?”

  At first, I shake my head, and then the words gush out as the tears flow down my cheeks.

  “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. He’s never coming back for me.”

  Eli wraps me in his arms, and I allow it. Draping my arms around him, I crave the warmth and strength he has to offer. I silently sob on his shoulder. Feeling my heart shatter over and over again, the pain is razor blade sharp, and a million cuts shred my body.

  Raising my mouth to his ear, I whisper, “God is punishing me for what I did. He took him from me. A life for a life.”

  Oh. My. God. Did I just say that out loud? I don’t even know this guy. That was one of my darkest thoughts, and I just whispered it carelessly into the ear of a stranger.

  Pulling me closer to him, he whispers back, “Don’t let go now, Jay. One-by-one, place each piece of your soul back together, but this time, make it stronger. Close your eyes and do it.”

  Listening to his words, I will the pain to stop. I close my eyes tighter and swallow the screams that want to burst out. I leash the torment inside that threatens to reign over me. This time, I choose not to bury them. I mold them into something I can live with. My eyes fly open, and I find myself staring deep into his, mere inches from my face.

  “I don’t know a lot of things, Jay, but I do know that God doesn’t punish. Not on this earth anyway. That’s not his style. You are punishing yourself and using God as an excuse to justify it. He doesn’t want you to suffer, but He’ll let you wallow in your own sorrow if that is what you choose to do.”

  Where is this coming from? Eli’s words burn through my mind like an inferno. For almost seventy days, I’ve listened to Dr. Raines and her psycho-babble bullshit, but in two seconds, this guy has made more sense to me than anything she’s said.

  Clearing my throat, I start to speak when my name is called from the doorway. Looking up from his arms, I see Dr. Raines standing there.

  “Jay,” Dr. Raines calls, “you have visitors”. She is looking from Eli to me.

  Pulling away from him, I can feel his piercing stare, but I don’t look back. I wipe the tears from my face and grab my iPod before standing. Bowing my head, I peek at him as I kick the toe of my slippers against the floor.

  “Uh, talk later?” I ask.

  “I’ll find you,” he says smiling.

  I walk towards the exit, turning back before I reach the door. He has picked up his guitar and
is playing again. Shaking my head, I turn back around and realize that my heart feels lighter than it has in a while. Dr. Raines touches my arm once I walk out into the hallway.

  “Jay, there are two detectives here to see you again. They say they have some additional questions for you. I can go in with you if you would like?”

  Not again. Why today, out of all days, did they choose to come back? Looking at Dr. Raines, I reply, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re sure, Jay? They’re in my office.”

  We both head towards her office, but once we reach it, she leaves. When I walk in, there are two new detectives standing, waiting for me. The first is a tall dark-skinned African American man with a bald-head. He has kind brown eyes with a large build and introduces himself as District Attorney Kyle Reeves. The second is a short Asian female with inky-black hair. She also has gentle brown eyes and a slight build. She introduces herself as Agent Morris from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.

  Following the introductions, we sit down, and Mr. Reeves leans towards me. “Well, Miss James Stevenson, it’s finally nice to meet you. I know you’ve met with the Jackson Heights police detectives and answered their questions. That information was forwarded to us; however, it is imperative that we speak to you directly. We have tried to give you some privacy while you have been here, but now we are running out of time. Do you know why we are here today?”

  “I’m sure it has something to do with Coach Branch.” Bile rises in my throat at the mention of his name.

  “Yes, as you may know, Bruce Branch was arrested on charges of statutory rape and released on bail. Because this type of crime was committed by a teacher on school grounds, it falls to state prosecution. From this point forward, you will only discuss the case with either Agent Morris or me. Should you be contacted for any questions regarding the case, you will state ‘no comment’ and refer them back to me. Do you understand, Miss Stevenson?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I answer back. The tone of his voice is stern. I really don’t think I have a choice.

  “We have your recorded testimony, but we have a few more questions. First off, do you remember ever hearing who recorded your conversation with Bruce Branch?

  Clearing my throat, I say, “No, I never did hear who did.”

  “We were able to connect the message back to the original phone number it was sent from; however, that person states their phone was stolen that same day. They also have an alibi of where they were during that time period. We really need to find who sent that text message.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Reeves, but I have no idea who recorded it. Not to mention, I’ve been here a majority of the time since that day.”

  “In your interview, you did say that you didn’t save any letters or flowers that he sent you. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sir. I did not keep anything.” My stomach clinches at the thought.

  Mr. Reeves looks at me like he’s slightly annoyed. I roll my eyes and try to get comfortable in my chair.

  “I realize that I may be boring you, Miss Stevenson, but I assure you that the questions I ask you will be a large factor in your case. I understand that you previously stated that you refuse to testify. Is this still correct?”

  Looking down, I answer, “Yes.”

  “Well, I want you to think about this. I believe you are old enough to understand our judicial system. Georgia, unlike most states, uses the term ‘statutory rape’ to describe unlawful sex with a minor. Anyone found guilty of this crime faces very serious prison time.” Clearing his voice, he continues. “Of course, it can be more difficult to get a conviction for statutory rape in Georgia than in any other state. The reason is because a pure he-said-she-said type of case is not sufficient evidence. We need additional evidence, such as the eyewitness that taped the entire conversation between yourself and Mr. Branch. Unfortunately, a dark and grainy video with limited visibility doesn’t cater to our needs. It would be rational to say, without your testimony, no matter how compelling the case, that it is not sufficient to prove guilt beyond reasonable doubt.”

  I gasp at his words and reply, “I just can’t do it.”

  “Then, he will more than likely walk out of that courtroom a free man.”

  “Jay,” Agent Morris says in her soft voice, “you still have time to think about it. Why don’t I come back to visit you in a couple of weeks?”

  Just wanting to get rid of them, I answer, “Yes, that will be fine. I’m not feeling well. Please excuse me.” I stand and walk out of Dr. Raines’s office, straight to the bathroom. Feeling the acidic vomit back up in my throat, I lean over the toilet and empty my stomach. I fall to my knees, and I am unable to stop the tears. They fall freely down my face, and silent sobs rack my body as my mind races.

  I refuse to think about testifying against him or even being in the same room as him. The thought of talking about what happened in front of my family and my friends causes my body to jerk in revolt. I just can’t. Ever.

  My skin crawls when I listen to her ask the same question again, the one that she has asked me in our meetings since day one.

  “Can we talk about the rape, Jay?” Dr. Raines asks in hushed tones.

  “I’ve told you what happened. I’ve told the police what happened. I think I’ve talked it to death. It happened. The end. Well, not for me I guess.” I laugh at my own little joke. Looking over at Dr. Raines, I notice she looks highly perturbed.

  “Jay, laughing doesn’t make it feel better on the inside. I want to know your thoughts today when you think about it. Do you still feel the shame you mentioned before?”

  Burying my head in my hands, I shudder as I allow myself to reach into that box hidden deep down within me, the one that holds my darkest feelings. Before, I could feel the anger overflowing from it, and yes, the shame would be there too. It’s all still there but muted. I can look at it closer without it tearing my soul out, and that’s a first.

  I don’t know if Dr. Raines can read the look of surprise on my face, but I look up and reply, “I was so ashamed of what happened to me and the thought that I could, somehow, control it.” I shake my head in response to my own words. I am speaking to myself just as much as I am speaking to her. “But I couldn’t, could I? I didn’t ask for it. I sure as hell didn’t want it. That naive girl didn’t know what she was doing, and she didn’t have any idea what he would do or what he was capable of doing.”

  Dr. Raines nods her head. “Most people think that those in a mentor position, such as a teacher, are there to guide and protect. Every day, parents send children to school thinking they are in a safe place. As a child, you are led to believe the same. So when something like this happens, especially by someone that we empower to protect our children and in an environment that we feel is a safe place, it’s almost life-altering. It changes one’s beliefs, and for those it happens to, they have to learn to dissimilate from the situation.”

  “I thought he was my friend,” I whisper. “That he cared about me….about JT.”

  “Do you think that JT would have blamed you for the rape? That he would have been ashamed of you?”

  “No! God, no. I…he...” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I continue, “It would have destroyed him. God, it did anyway.” My voice breaks at the end, and tears build. “Was I always destined to be the one that ruined him? No matter what decision I made?”

  “Listen to me, Jay. You tried to protect those around you in the only way you knew how: silence. When it came out that night, you already knew how he would react, so what did you do? You’ve already told me that you tried to stop him. You begged and pleaded, but you couldn’t control him or the situation any more than the day you were raped. It was out of your hands. The moment JT decided to let his anger control his actions is the moment he took his life and the fate of others into his own hands and out of yours. I know you blame yourself for that also, but look at me young lady.”

  Staring directly into her eyes, I let the truth of her words wash ove
r and into me.

  “You can blame yourself for many things, but what happened to you and the death of JT is not one of them. Life is, at times, ugly and unfair. That you harbored all that happened to you and then still lost what was most precious, is one of the most tragic tales I have ever known. Jay, the way I see it, the main reason you didn’t tell wasn’t because of being ashamed, it was to protect those from the hurt and pain of knowing the truth. You say that you were shutting them out so they wouldn’t feel your death as deeply, but again, that wasn’t it. You knew the pain and heartache it would cause. You kept it within yourself.”

  Pausing, her eyes look intently into mine, “You want the truth? Those two years you could have ended your life, but you didn’t because you wanted to live. You weren’t looking for a way out, Jay. You were looking for a way back in.”

  Tears stream down her face as we both continue to stare at each other. Finally, she sits forward and reaches her hand for mine. I allow her to grasp it and look down at them.

  “Jay, I wish you could see what I see: a strong and courageous young lady. One day you may meet her, and then again, maybe you never will. Either way, what happens from now on, you have to make peace with your past. Live for those that can’t. The one thing that you already know is that life goes on.”

  She stands and pulls me up to hug me. Letting go of me, she steps back and looks down. “Things are changing for you, whether you know it or not. I like this girl that you are becoming. Allow her to come through to deal with her feelings and find peace.”

  Nodding my head, I wipe the tears from my eyes with my shirt sleeves.

  “We’ll talk more next week, okay?”

  “Okay,” I say, and for once, I mean it. As I walk out the door, Dr. Raines stops me with one last remark.

  “Oh and Jay, if you need to talk with someone, you can’t go wrong with Eli. In fact, I think you will find that you both have a lot in common.”