The Blatant Truth of Life
By Maggie Jung
Chapter One
She jerked awake, sweat pouring down her brow, screaming her head off. She quickly pulled the comforter up over her head and waited for the inevitable. She knew it would come. She looked down at the bruises on her frail arms and her shaking grew. She sat, crying softly in the darkness for several more minutes but no one came.
She calmed down and lifted the blanket from her head, and slipped from her extra long twin bed and placed both feet on the cold linoleum floor. She tiptoed from her small room and into the dark hallway. There wasn't a sound to be heard. Her feet shuffled against the shaggy blue carpet and she came to her father's room.
The door clinked against something glass as she slowly pushed it open, and she shoved as it pressed against something heavy. She pressed the door with all her might and a body rolled several inches so that she could slip through the door frame. A pile of beer bottles lay near the door and her father lay sprawled on the ground nearby.
"Daddy?" she whispered. No answer. She knelt and checked if he was breathing. He was. She sighed and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. He'd wake in the morning. He always did.
The next morning, Lauren woke early, dressed, and slipped from the house without eating anything for breakfast. She hardly ever ate. It's not like her father went grocery shopping, so she had just grown accustomed to not eating. She took her bike to school and arrived before everyone else, as usual. She locked her bike to the bike rack and walked up the giant cement steps and entered Middlebrook Junior High.
She was then fourteen years old, and in the eighth grade. She walked down the empty halls, her flip-flop sandals echoing as she stepped. She was one of those girls who dressed according to what was comfortable. An old T-shirt, ratty jeans, and flip-flip sandals were her normal attire, along with a wooden cross worn on a hemp necklace that had once belonged to her mother.
Reaching her locker, she spun her pink combination lock, which she had once thought necessary and now thought overly flashy, and grabbed her books. She shoved them in her backpack and slipped both arms through the straps. People were starting to arrive, and she walked through the sparsely occupied halls, avoiding the girls dressed in denim skirts and low cut blouses, and the boys wearing tight fitting Abercrombie T-shirts and jeans hanging so low that you could see their boxer shorts.
She reached the bathroom, and pushed open the swinging door, stepping inside the familiar haven. It was lunch time, but she never ate lunch. Why bother when she could escape? She walked to the farthest stall, and closed it behind her. She slid down the door and sat facing the toilet. She slowly unzipped the outer pouch of her bag and pulled out her Exacto knife. The triangular blade placed at the top of the black handle made it seem like an expensive fountain pen. Pushing up the sleeves of her navy blue long sleeved shirt, she brought the blade to her bruised and scabbed arm. The blade kissed the flesh and all her anger and hurt melted away. Blood fell slowly and she wiped it up with a wad of toilet paper. The first bell rang, and she slipped the blade into her pouch once again. She placed Band-Aids over the new cuts so that the blood wouldn't seep through her shirt. She zipped up her backpack, and hurried to class.
Lauren sat in the back of the room in her usual seat as the final bell rang, announcing the beginning of French, and the beginning of another hour of boredom. She answered when Mr. Daniels called her name, already drifting into her own world. The room spun, and the tacky posters announcing to the world that learning was indeed "fun" blurred, and she gave herself up to it. Alone in this sacred place inside her head, away from everything, she was whole.
Chapter Two
She slipped out of the building after school ended, and unlocked her bike. Looking around at all the blurry faces she turned away from her solace. Peddling quickly, she hurried towards home. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and listened. Not a sound. She sighed, and headed to her room. She shut the door, and threw her backpack on the floor and flopped onto her bed. She cranked her stereo up and closed her eyes, losing herself in the angry drumbeats. She fell asleep and only woke when she heard the sound of the door slamming.
When she first woke her eyes refused to focus and all she saw was the red blurry light coming from her alarm clock. When they finally focused, she saw that it was two thirty five. She began shivering uncontrollably. The only time he came home this late was when he was drunk. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but terror enveloped her, and she lay shaking in the dark.
And then the door inched open. She curled up tighter and pretended to sleep. She heard his drunken staggering and squeezed her eyes tighter. He pushed her roughly and rolled her over. He tried to pry her arms from around her knees, but she wouldn't let go. His arm coiled back and swung at her head. She grunted and jerked her hands to the new bruise. He pulled her off the bed and shoved her to the floor. She heard him fiddling with his belt buckle and retreated to the inner calm. She pulled all her thoughts into that place where no one could find her, and she never noticed when he removed her clothes, and she never noticed when he was done. She was safe where she was, and no one could hurt her here.
The next day she left extra early, eager to avoid her father's hangover. In some ways he was worse then than when he was drunk. But unfortunately she didn't wake up early enough, or maybe she woke up too early. Whatever the cause, she woke him when her alarm clock went off. She was dressing when he came staggering into her room at six in the morning.
"What are you doing," he stuttered.
She tried to appear as angelic as possible when replying, "Getting ready for school, Daddy."
"At this fucking hour?" he growled, and began coughing uncontrollably and ended up heaving all over her dark blue carpet.
"I'll get the paper towels," Lauren offered, and tried to slip from the room.
He backhanded her across the face. "I can do that myself. And I'll drive you to school. At a reasonable hour. Go back to bed," he ordered.
She couldn't go back to bed. Instead she sat and stewed about her father driving her to school. She wasn't sure he could handle it in his state. She ended up falling on her old habits, and pulling out the blade. She was cutting slits on the underside of her arms, when her father barged in with the paper towels. He glanced at her, taking in what she was doing, and then got on his knees to clean up the mess, ignoring her.
After he left she dressed in a long sleeved V-necked T-shirt and cargo pants, and put the knife back in her backpack. She placed the old wooden cross around her neck, and fell to her knees by her bed.
"Dear God, Please watch over me today. And please watch over my father. He's in no state to drive. Please let everything be all right."
He drove her to school, nearly avoiding about twenty car wrecks. But finally they arrived safe and sound, and Lauren jumped out of the car. She had planned on being polite to her father and thanking him for the ride but by the time she turned around, he was gone, a trail of dust where his car had once been.
Chapter Three
Later on that day she sat in her usual stall, forming new gruesome paintings along her ankles. Blood formed bubbles, and slowly grew and popped. The lines spun and wove and completed her calm, and she could pretend that everything was fine, and last night had never happened. She sat back and stared at the blood, and tranquility surrounded her. And then, jarring through her peace came the bell. She wiped away her beautiful painting, and headed to class.
"Lauren. Lauren! Wake up!" a voice called. She shook awake. It was Mr. Daniels, her homeroom teacher. He saw the fear in her eyes and spoke, "Don't worry, I'm not angry at you for falling asleep." His eyes twinkled, and then sorrow clouded them, "Mrs. Greta needs to speak with you outside." Lauren nodded, and grabbed her backpack. She slipped outside the room and closed the heavy door behind her. The school principal was waiting for her. Her eyes were kind, but her face gave her away. "What happened?" Lauren asked. Mrs. Greta looked at her, concern etched into her face, "It's your father... He's in the hospital." Lauren fainted.
Chapter Four
She woke in a stiff chair. She heard a faint beeping sound and opened her eyes. Her father lay on a white hospital bed in front of her. She tried to make herself cry but she couldn't. She got up and stood at his side, holding his hand.
"Oh, Daddy," she whispered, and willed herself to cry. The tears wouldn't come. She grabbed her cross in her hands and turned her face upwards, "God, how could you have allowed this to happen? I prayed. I begged you. Are you even there? Can you even hear my prayers? What kind of God are you anyway?" With that she ripped the cross from her neck and threw it across the room. She dropped her father's hand and headed to the door. Outside Mrs. Greta stood talking to the doctor. Their faces grew grim when they saw her.
"What happened?" Lauren whispered, and the doctor told her. He'd been in a car accident, but he had only collected a few bruises and scrapes from that. The real problem was alcohol poisoning. His liver was dying. He wasn't the only one. They had cases like this come in all the time. His rate of survival was five percent. Lauren tried to feel sadness. She wished she could feel it. But all she felt was numb. What difference did it make to her if he died? He was her father, yes. But only by blood. She stared at the doctor's hard face.
"Lauren, did you know he was an alcoholic?" he asked softly, staring into her face.
Anger flashed through her. She wasn't an idiot. "Everyone knows it," she said, pressing her lips together.
"Lauren, do you have any living relatives?" the doctor asked, concern etched into his face.
"No," she replied.
Mrs. Greta led Lauren away from the doctor, and clutched both her hands, "Lauren do you understand what's going on? If your father lives, you can't stay with him. He'll have to go to treatment. You're going to have to go to a foster home."
Still Lauren couldn't make herself feel anything. "Fine," she whispered.
Chapter Five
Lauren spent the next couple of days at the hospital watching over her father's bedside, trying not to blame herself, but she couldn't seem to convince herself that his death was not her fault. She couldn't count the number of times she had prayed to God for him to die, for him to go away and leave her alone. Now she was getting her wish. This was all her fault. No orderly or maid cleaned the floor of her father's room, and the cross remained in the corner, taunting her, calling out to her, yelling out to her that she had caused this accident and her father's sickness.
Her father died the next morning, and Lauren spent the next couple of days at Mrs. Greta's house. Her old principal expressed great concern that she didn't grieve. The school psychologist claimed Lauren was in shock and that in time she would grieve.
She attended her father's funeral in a long black skirt and long sleeved black blouse, with her hair in a high bun. Almost the whole school attended, and Lauren stared at them as they stared at her. Most of them wore blank faces, as if they didn't know how to feel. The rest didn't seem to care. Their parents had probably forced them to come. They laughed and joked the entire funeral, and were entirely disrespectful.
She watched her father's coffin being lowered into the ground, and a single tear fell down her cheek. It was shed for the father he could have been, for the potential of happiness they had had, but it was not shed for him. When the prayers were said for his soul, Lauren remained silent. She would give no more prayers to God.
She placed a dark red rose next to his gravestone, and Mrs. Greta led her away. Her kind old principal placed her in the cab that sent her away, and Lauren gave her a hug in farewell. She knew that her life in Maine was long behind her. All she knew about her new life was that she had an airline ticket to San Diego, California and that the Andrews would meet her at the end of her flight.
Chapter Six
The cab driver left her at the airport, and she walked through the terminal in a daze. She reached her gate and sat in a chair by the window. She curled herself up in a ball and stared at the planes landing and taking off. A loud laugh caught her attention and she turned to see two little girls sitting on their father's lap. They were tugging on his blonde beard, and he was tugging on their blonde curls. Lauren turned away and stared out the window, and the tears began to fall. She let them come and she let the sobs come out.
"Miss... Miss... Miss!" a voice called, and Lauren turned into the concerned face of the flight attendant. "Are you on this flight, Miss?" she pointed to the open door.
Lauren nodded and thanked her, and headed down the jet way. She took her seat by the window and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Seven
The Andrews were a quiet respectable family. Not unkind exactly, just hard to warm up to. There was Mrs. Andrews, who was a typical housewife in every way. She cleaned from dawn to dusk, and cooked elaborate meals for the seven occupants of the house.
Mr. Andrews was a lawyer, and spent very little time at home. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that made him look serious, even when he wore a smile on his face.
They had two sons, Jacob and Thomas. Jacob was three years older than Lauren, and a junior in high school. Thomas was ten, and was constantly stirring up trouble in the house.
The other foster children were Emma Davis and Caroline Barker. Emma was four, and Caroline, twelve. They had lived with the Andrews for over a year now, and had developed a bond that left no room for Lauren. This didn't bother Lauren much. She had never been a people person, and had usually stayed indoors rather than socialize. The house disliked her from the beginning.
Generally, they were a happy bunch and this withdrawn teenager who never said a word disrupted their pattern of life. They were content to pretend that Lauren didn't exist, and Lauren, they. She was enrolled in the local junior high at once, and soon she spent most of her time away from home anyway. She developed a new pattern. Sleep, Class, Cut, Class, Cut, Class, Home, Cut, Sleep. Eventually the bruises began to disappear. All the traces of her life with her father were gone. She made no friends, but still did well in school.
Chapter Eight
One day she was lying on her bed, earphones on, listening to her Godsmack CD. She felt someone's eyes on her, and she sat up, pulling her headphones of.
Jacob was watching her, a strange expression on his face. Her veins turned to ice and she leapt from the bed. "Get out of my room!" she shouted.
Confusion crossed his face, "Lauren, I'm sorry."
She shoved him out the door and slammed it. She sank against the door and collapsed sobbing. "Leave me alone," she whispered. "Why can't you leave me alone? I hate you! I hate you!" she yelled.
But even Jacob could tell she wasn't yelling at him. He padded off down the hall, and went into his own room. Lauren curled up in a ball, shaking and crying, and eventually fell asleep.
Eventually summer came and she couldn't escape to school anymore. She spent more and more time, locked inside her room painting scars and cuts across her pale skin.
Her "family" couldn't understand why she spent all her time locked inside when the California sun was perfect for swimming and biking and surfing. She preferred to stay inside, using the blade to erase all the memories that invaded otherwise. Her knife was like a big eraser, making everything that had ever happened, disappear.
On one particular day, she sat fully clothed in her bathtub, cutting careful slits onto her shoulder, when the door opened. She shrieked, and the knife slid from her hand, leaving a bloody trail in the empty bathtub as it fell.
It was Jacob, his face deathly pale. "I knocked four times. You didn't answer," he whispered.
Tears slid down Lauren's face, "Please don't tell anyone."
He nodded, moving his mouth but no words came out.
Lauren stood up and blood spilled down her arm, "Don't tell! Please!" She desperately pulled down her black sleeve to cover her vulnerability. He took her in his arms and she sobbed on his shoulder while he stroked her hair. From that day on she had a friend.
Chapter Nine
Lauren shoved open the door to the bathroom and headed into the thriving mass of people in the hallway. Junior High at its best, she thought to herself. She bent down out of the way to tie her shoe and when she stood up, she felt muscular arms slipping around her thin waist.
"Hey Jacob," she smiled and turned to hug him.
He grinned down at her, "How's the little freshman enjoying her first day in the real world?" She shrugged, and his eyes lit with concern, "You OK?"
She looked away and frowned, "Yeah, I'm fine. School's school." The bell rang, and Lauren turned away, glad to have an excuse to leave. "See you later, Jacob," she called over her shoulder, and slipped into her classroom.
Somehow Jacob convinced Lauren into going out to eat with him and a bunch of his friends after a football game one night. They went to a burger joint and Lauren couldn't help but feel out of place as the girls talked about their parties which she had definitely not been invited to, being a freshman, and their being seniors. The girls were catty and exactly the kind of people Lauren didn't hang out with, and all the guys had room for in their brains was sports. Jacob seemed to feel at home with these people, however, and so she tried to make the best of it.
Jacob's continual bugging Lauren to eat got the girls' attention, however, "Oh, you poor thing! Are you an anorexic? You are, aren't you? You have anorexia." At that Lauren slipped from the booth and left. Jacob didn't follow her.
Things continued this way and Lauren began to avoid Jacob more and more. The more she saw him, the more he pressured her to stop the cutting or to eat more. He even went so far as to steal her knife. After this, she stopped speaking to him. Her knife was sacred, and he had no right to go through her things and take it. She soon bought another knife, however, and her cutting and not eating went on.
Lauren was sitting in the corner of her room listening to music in the dark when the door swung open, spilling a beam of light into the room. Mrs. Andrews' large figure was outlined in the light.
She flipped the switch and the room was flooded with light. "Lauren, get up," she ordered.
Lauren stared at her foster mother, "Why?" She settled against the wall, making it clear she wasn't moving.
Mrs. Andrews was across the room in a flash, and she grabbed Lauren's sleeve and slid it up her arm. The world froze and Lauren spun out of control. All she could see were those exposed angry red slashes. She vaguely remembered hearing Mrs. Andrews' scream and feeling a flash of pity for the woman.
Chapter Ten
She walked into the administration building, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. The wave of cold should have been refreshing from the overbearing heat outside, but it wasn't. There were plenty of people to meet, and discuss her entire life's history with, but all Lauren felt like doing was crawling into a corner and staying silent. She had to talk to a dietitian, a doctor, a resident, and several techs who would be working with her every day. A tall, thin lady led Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, and Lauren to another building, and they unpacked her luggage and loaded it onto a cart. After walking through the security checkpoint, they went back outside and into the fenced complex. Huge, bronze, distinguished trees stood around the grounds, and Lauren smiled to herself at the silent beauty hidden behind the iron bars.
They soon came to the unit and she felt herself tense up once again. Lauren entered and looked around the clean ward. There was a large sitting room to her right and a pristine, overly polished nurses station to her left. She was led to her room which she was pleased to find was spacious, warm, and inviting. She left her bags in the room to be searched later, and was led to a small room with glass windows on two sides.
A lady with curls flying in every direction entered, a bright smile on her face. She told Lauren that she was her therapist, and Lauren warmed up to the place, and this crazy lady whom she had just met.
Lauren finally was allowed to meet the other patients, and she arrived at a room so like her room at home she almost cracked another smile at this horrid place. Jackets, shirts, shoes, blankets, board games, magazines, and books were strewn everywhere about the room. Several other girls were sitting in the room, and Lauren smiled tentatively at them. They smiled back, seemingly a bit forcefully. They sat and talked to one another, as if old friends, and ignored the new comer.
The first meal came and went, as all meals go. She ate it, knowing that not eating was only going to keep her here longer. It was also easy to slip a plastic knife into her pocket to carry back up to the unit for the night. No one was watching her. She was the new girl, and therefore isolated and ignored.
Chapter Eleven
That night she lay in her bed and scratched away at herself with the plastic knife, missing her Exacto knife with a passion. She didn't get the same thrill and escape with the plastic knife, and she resolved to try and find a way to get a metal knife the next day.
But the next day came and went, and there was no opportunity for her to slip a metal knife into her pockets. There was a room where the more advanced kids ate, and Lauren had found out from one of the girls that there was metal silverware in there. But for the less advanced kids, you were stuck in the room with the plastic silverware and the trays delivered to you with your food already on it.
But as Lauren was reveling in misery at not having a chance to grab a metal knife, she saw one of the anorexic boys slipping a plastic knife into his pocket and her heart stopped. It was different when it was her... somehow. Somehow it was different when it was her. It was OK for her to cut, but not for this boy. He looked about her age. He had bleached blonde hair, and his brown eyes had flecks of black in them. He was deathly thin, and had a tube dangling from his nose, but behind all that, Lauren could see his potential to be very handsome.
When they went back up to the unit that night, Lauren pulled the boy aside. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.
"Andrew," he replied, looking a little lost and confused that someone was talking to him.
"Andrew, give me the knife..." she whispered, so that no one could hear her.
His face went white as a sheet. Lauren didn't think anyone knew that he was a cutter. He quickly pulled the knife from his pocket and handed it to her, and she slipped it into hers. "Just don't tell anyone, OK?" And with that, he spun on his heel and ran to his room.
For the next several days, Lauren appointed it her job to watch over Andrew, and he made no more attempts to sneak a knife at meal times. She approached him again one night while he was reading a book in the corner of the quiet lounge by himself. "Hey, Andrew," she said quietly, and pulled a chair up next to his. "What are you reading?" she asked.
He turned over the cover of his book to show it to her, and she read the title. War and Peace it read.
"Wow... deep reading. That's cool though," she assured him, as he started to turn a deep shade of red.
"Yeah, it's for school," he replied. He closed the book, and stared back at her. "So what are you in for?"
Lauren was kind of taken aback by the question, but she supposed she knew his problems so it was only fair. "Same as you... anorexia and self mutilation." She pulled up her sleeves and showed him the scars that painted her arms.
He grimaced, and started to speak but stopped. Then he seemed to pull himself together, "No one but you knows that I cut myself... so please don't tell anyone."
Lauren just nodded, unsure if she could make that promise. She felt like she had a connection with Andrew, and she couldn't bear to let him continue to suffer. She glanced at the tube sticking out of his nose, taped to his cheek, "So does that thing hurt or what?"
"Not really," he replied. "I've had one a couple of times. I've been in treatment six times before."
"Six times?" she asked incredulously. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen," he answered. "What about you?"
"Fourteen," she replied.
"Wow... you're young for... well, I mean... you have a lot of scars for someone so young," he managed to get out.
At this she cracked the first smile she had cracked for a boy ever except Jacob. "I've just been through a lot in my short life," she said, her smile wavering, and tears threatening to come bursting from her eyes.
"Hey... hey, don't cry," he smiled, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Hang on," he said, and got up. He situated the pole holding his fluid to be pumped through his tube so that it was between them and the nurses station. He sat back down and they were hidden from the nurses and the techs. She was still crying, and he leaned forward, and kissed her lightly on her eyelids, and then again on her lips.
Lauren smiled as his lips pressed against hers, and realized this was a moment that most girls would talk about for the rest of their lives: their first kiss.
There were many more kisses after that, but the relationship was mostly platonic. They were closer than close. They were best friends, and Lauren told him almost everything about herself, except her past. That she kept to herself. She doubted she would ever be able to tell anyone anything about her father except that he had been an alcoholic and had died of alcohol poisoning.
Chapter Twelve
Lauren was surprised when one day a tech approached her and asked her for her knives. She tried to deny it at first, but when the tech did a room search and found almost fourteen plastic knives hidden in Lauren's room, there was no use denying it. Her name was Kristen, and she was the most tolerable of the weekday techs. Lauren had no doubt how Kristen had found out about the knives: Andrew had finally cracked.
At first Lauren lashed out at him, "You bastard! You little squealer! You do it too and I never told on you! I kept your damn secret even though it killed me every time I had to take another knife from you to keep you safe. You could have just approached me instead of getting the staff involved, Now I'll be here longer. How could you?"
But Andrew just stared at her blankly, "Lauren, I honestly don't know what you're talking about." He looked so sincere, so honest, so vulnerable, and so open, that Lauren had to believe him. But then there was no one left to suspect. Lauren always sat far away from the techs so they couldn't be seeing her. It had to be another patient.
The next meal was dinner, and Lauren slipped her knife into her pocket casually, keeping a careful watch out to see who it was that was watching her. And then her eyes met another girl's.
The girl was tall and thin, with a gorgeous face, with reddish brown curly hair which she wore in a pony tail. She could have been a model for all Lauren knew. She was an outgoing girl, who seemed to be friends with everyone. Lauren had noticed her before.
After dinner, Lauren watched as the girl talked quietly to the tech who shot a quick glance in Lauren's direction and then quickly looked away. Shortly afterwards, the tech came over and asked Lauren for the knife, which she handed over willingly. She hadn't really wanted it, anyway. It had just been a test to find her "guardian angel."
Later that night, Lauren and Andrew were sitting in the quiet lounge while the rest of the group sat in the noisy lounge watching some action movie or another, when the beautiful girl walked past them and towards her room. "I'll be right back," Lauren said to Andrew, and slipped away before he could reply. "Hey! Hey! Wait up!"
The girl turned, and stopped, a tentative smile creeping across her face.
Lauren stopped a few feet away from her and spoke, "I just wanted to thank you… for telling Kristen about the knives…" The girl started to speak, but Lauren cut her off, "Don't deny it. I saw you after dinner tonight. Anyway, thank you… and I wanted to ask what your name was?"
"Katie… my name is Katie," she smiled her breathtaking smile, turned, and walked away.
Lauren turned and went back to sit with Andrew and fell asleep in an overstuffed armchair feeling safe for the first time in a long time.
Chapter Thirteen
For months Lauren refused to speak to Jacob. He was one of the only friends she had ever had and he had broken her trust. She was allowed a single phone call a day, but she never used it. There was visitation every day, as well. Sometimes the Andrews came, and some days they didn't. Jacob came every day, but she refused to see him. The other Andrews children came very irregularly, and when they did come it was a cause of anxiety for Lauren and usually left her in tears and running to Andrew for comfort. Every time Mr. and Mrs. Andrews came, however, it was awkward. They attended meetings at the hospital about self mutilation and anorexia, and so when they came they considered themselves the experts on the subject. A few times she was forced to eat meals with her "family," and the eight of them would sit in silence with a doctor and a therapist who would try and force conversation out of the quiet and uncomfortable bunch.
Lauren spent four months at Presbyterian Hospital of San Diego. Andrew was discharged after three of those months, and he returned to his home in Las Vegas, Nevada with his loving parents. They tried to keep in touch at first but they soon lost touch, but Lauren was content knowing he was safe and that he was with his parents who loved him. When she was finally discharged, she returned to her home with the Andrews, but the atmosphere was worse than it had ever been before. The Andrews had cleaned out her room at home for sharp objects, among which her knife had been the first to go. Lauren was home schooled, and forced to eat every meal with her foster mother. Things had definitely changed at home, and Lauren was never quite sure if she cared or not about the changes. She missed going to school, but she didn't have any friends so there wasn't too much to miss.
She was forced to go to counseling with a woman named Dr. Murdock. For the most part that was painless. Lauren refused to talk to her, and she could retreat into herself and ignore everything her doctor said.
Chapter Fourteen
Eventually it became too hard to avoid Jacob and so she confronted him, and he told her how worried he was about her and how much he cared about her and she gave in. She couldn't resist him when he was so sincere and kind. She went to school one day and they walked home together, hand in hand, talking about unimportant things just for the joy of talking about them together.
When they arrived, a black Cadillac sat in the driveway. They looked at each other and shrugged. Jacob pushed open the door and held it for Lauren, and they both stepped inside. A graying woman sat on the couch with Mrs. Andrews. Lauren's foster mother stood up when they entered and flashed them a big toothy grin, her eyes flickering disdainfully on their entwined hands.
"Lauren, I'm so glad you're here. This is Mrs. Paterson, from the adoption agency. A young couple wants to adopt you! Isn't that wonderful?"
Lauren turned a sickly shade of green and she and Jacob sat down.
Mrs. Paterson turned to Lauren, oblivious to Lauren's unhappiness, "Annabelle and Ted Withers are their names. They're both around thirty years old, and unable to have children of their own. They live in Los Angeles which isn't very far from here," she added, glancing at Jacob and Lauren's clutched hands.
Lauren blushed and pulled her hand from Jacob's. They sat in silence as Mrs. Paterson regaled them on how grand the Withers family was, and when she left, Lauren padded silently up the stairs and began packing her things.
A soft knock came at the door and Jacob came in. He sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her expressionless face. "It's not like you liked it here that much anyway. I mean, you hate my mother. Besides, they'll be able to focus on you."
The first hint of her misery flickered across her face, "That's what I'm afraid of."
He stood up, cupped her chin in his hand and said, "Lauren, tell me what happened."
And as the tears slid down her face, she broke down and told him everything, and he held her while she sobbed on his shoulder. She had finally broken the barrier and told someone about the life she had had with her father; about the abuse; about how much she had suffered all those years.
Chapter Fifteen
She moved in with the Withers a week later, and her new life only an hour away from Jacob began, but at first it was hard to bear. Her "father" and "mother" were kind, but she couldn't bear the sight of Mr. Withers.
His features were a mirror image of her father's. His double chin, beer belly, and sloping eyebrows were exactly like her father's had been. She found herself grimacing whenever she saw him. Lauren was glad when Ted turned out to be a workaholic. She wouldn't have to see him often.
Mrs. Withers wasn't anything like her real mother had been. She couldn't imagine the cheerful, happy-go-lucky Mrs. Withers ever plunging a kitchen knife through her heart, no matter what a horrible marriage she had. Annabelle Withers was the kind of woman who joined comities and handed out flyers supporting women's rights. Lauren quickly found herself opening up to the woman. She let Lauren call her Anna, and they sat around talking for hours sometimes, and meals and school with the woman wasn't a chore, but something to enjoy.
Anna even let her stop seeing Dr. Murdock as long as she promised not to cut anymore. Lauren lied and assured her adoptive mother that she wouldn't, and the visits to the doctor stopped. She felt bad lying to Anna, but she couldn't put up with many more visits before she would burst.
Surprisingly to only Lauren, Jacob came down almost every weekend to see her. They talked about everything from their pasts to their plans for the future, and Lauren soon realized there was little she couldn't tell him.
Chapter Sixteen
As she submerged herself into her new family life, the cutting came less frequent. She found she didn't have as much anger to extract. It was as if the confession with Jacob, and the long night talks with Anna took the anger and hurt away, channeling her emotions into a healthier outlet.
Lauren woke up, and blinked as the light spilled through her window. She lay in bed, reveling in the morning glow. Reluctantly, she pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. She ran a hand through her matted hair, and pushed open her door. She padded down the hallway towards the bathroom.
She was about to turn the knob when the door swung away from her. Ted Withers stood before her, a rolled up newspaper in his hand. He started to smile and greet her, but she had frozen. An image of her father drunkenly staggering through her doorway flashed through her mind. Before Ted could say anything, she turned and ran. She slammed the door, locked it, and crumpled on the floor, sobbing.
When Anna came to tell her it was time for school, Lauren told her she was sick. Anna didn't protest, and Lauren crawled back into bed and hid from the world, a bad movie playing over and over again through her head.
She woke around noon and lay staring at the ceiling. Images of her life with her father flashed in front of her eyes: His belt in his hand, and the angry welt it left on her flesh; Him forcing an innocent three year old to touch him; His drunken rage if she made a sound or move against him. She saw them all as if they were happening then and there, and she cried the tears she had never been able to cry then. A knock came at the door, Lauren heard a key turn in the lock, and Anna came in.
She sat on the edge of Lauren's bed and clutched her hand, "Your father told me what happened."
Lauren turned away from her, "I don't have a father."
Anna was silent a moment, "He won't hurt you. I promise. There was never a more gentle and kind man than Ted. I promise you, if he was a danger to you, I would divorce him in a second."
Lauren rolled over and stared up at Anna, "Promise?"
Anna smiled wide and hugged her daughter. They remained like that for several minutes, reveling in the pure joy of holding each other.
Chapter Seventeen
Several weeks before school ended, Jacob came down to visit Lauren. They sat on a pier, dangling their legs over the edge.
"Well, College Boy, how's your family dealing with you moving a whole hour away?" she asked him.
He grinned his adorable grin and replied, "Well, you know my mom. She can't stand the fact that I'm leaving them so far behind." She laughed, and he said, "Yeah, well she's paranoid. My dad's worried about how much it's going to cost him, and Caroline's been pouting. She's deathly jealous that I spend all my time with you."
Lauren laughed and laid her head on Jacob's shoulder.
"What do you think about my going to college?" he asked her seriously.
She smiled, "I'm glad you'll be close by."
He turned to her and lifted the sleeve of her shirt up her arm. There were scars, but no new cuts. "Did you stop?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears, "I didn't need to anymore."
He cupped her chin in his hand and suddenly his mouth was on hers, and their lips met in the sweetest and most tender kiss. Lauren lost herself in the joy of it and he threaded his hands through her long, dark hair. When it was over, they sat there, letting the salty breeze blow over them.
Jacob put his lips to her ear and whispered, "I love you."
Tears came to her eyes and she smiled. "That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me. Ever."
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her again, "It won't be the last."
Chapter Eighteen
Soon after that day on the pier Jacob began hanging out with his old crowd of jocks and ditzes. Lauren asked him if it had anything to do with saying those three words but he said no. He still made time for Lauren. He always made time for Lauren. Between make out sessions, Lauren would try to ask him why he was hanging out with his old crowd again, but his answer was always, "They've changed. Give them a chance."
And Lauren did give them a chance. Having made a total of three friends in her entire life, (She included Katie in this count or otherwise it would have been two) she thought she put forth more than her fair share of effort to understand why he hung out with his friends.
She went to movies with the bunch of them, went to parties with them, went out to eat with all of them, and even gritted her teeth when the girls made remarks about her eating, and "wasn't she worried that she was going to get fat now?"
But eventually she gave up, and began spending more and more time without Jacob, as he began spending more and more time with his "fun-loving" friends. He couldn't understand how she couldn't see the change in them, and she couldn't understand what had possibly changed.
She began writing to Andrew to vent about her problems on a daily basis. She needed a friend, and at the moment, he was the only one she had left. He wrote back to her every day, and they soon began talking on the phone, and running up the long distance phone bills.
Chapter Nineteen
That summer, the summer before her sophomore year, Andrew drove down to visit her. When Lauren told Jacob about it, he refused to speak to her. He wouldn't hear her excuses. He wouldn't hear that Andrew was just a friend. He wouldn't hear any of it. He pushed her away, and grew closer and closer to his gang of friends.
And then one night while Andrew was visiting, Jacob came over drunk. Lauren and Andrew were sitting on the couch, a bowl of Cheetos in between them, watching The Silence of the Lambs when Anna led Jacob into the room. Lauren could tell by her adoptive mother's face that something was the matter.
"Awww, look at the lovebirds sitting on the couch together. Don't they look all warm and cuddly." Jacob glanced at the TV screen. "And a horror movie! How sickeningly sweet?" He turned to Andrew, "Are you hoping she'll jump into your arms when it gets really scary? I've known Lauren a long time, and she doesn't scare easy, right Lauren? Isn't that right?"
"You're scaring me right now, Jacob," Lauren whispered. You could barely hear her over Hannibal Lector's lecture to Clarice, but Jacob got the message.
"I'm scaring you!" he laughed. "Look in the mirror. My girlfriend is sitting in the dark with some guy she used to make out with all the time. Some guy she's told everything to, probably. Some guy who probably knows all about me. And I'm scaring you!" He laughed again. "Whatever, Lauren. It's over. You can have this scrawny guy with his bleached hair, and I hope you two will be very happy together," he slurred, and staggered a little bit.
"Oh my god, Jacob. You're drunk!" Lauren practically screamed.
"I am not. I just had a drink or two with my boys. YES Lauren, with my boys. My boys. My friends," and then he was leaving. He was staggering from the room and from the house, and Lauren ran after him and watched as he got in his car, where a couple of his friends were waiting for him, and drove away.
Chapter Twenty
Andrew left shortly after to go back to his hotel, and Lauren and Anna got in their car and drove around to Jacob's usual hangouts looking for his car.
"He shouldn't be driving if he's been drinking," Lauren whispered, remembering her father's death, and then as if confirming her worst fears she saw his car smashed against another car by the side of the road.
She vaguely remembered screaming. She vaguely remembered the police sirens and the ambulance. All that really stuck out in her head was Jacob as he lay there on that stretcher all bloody and mangled, and his eyes when he saw her.
"Lauren, I'm sorry," he said.
"Shhh…" she whispered. "It's all forgiven." And then they took him away, and she never saw him alive again. By the time she reached the hospital he had died.
It was the second funeral she had attended in her life, but this time she spoke. She spoke of her life, she spoke of the truth. She laid Jacob out for all to see as he was: just Jacob. She published a book in his honor, to tell everyone how he had saved her life.
Chapter Twenty-one
Lauren married Andrew eight years later. He was twenty-five, and working as a psychologist, and she was twenty-three and starting law school and hoping to eventually work as a lawyer representing children in child abuse and incest cases. They were very happy together, but Lauren never forgot her past, never forgot Jacob. She had two parents who loved her with all of their hearts. Her life with her biological father could have broken her, but instead it made her stronger. Her struggle made every happy moment worth its weight in gold. She made each day count, and her story which could have turned out in despair, had a happy ending. Sometimes we have to face the bluntness of life in order to reach the happiness that can only be found through struggle.