Well hello! Raise your hand if you thought this was never going to happen? My hand is half raised because for awhile there, I was completely overwhelmed with new one shot (or in the case of Reach For Me, two shot ;)) ideas that I thought I was never going to get myself back to this place, this universe that is so all consuming. I love this story and this adventure so much - it hurt when I couldn't write anything or plan anything. This story has gone from one extreme to the other, and every time I have sat down to plan for it I end up writing something completely different. I'm slowly trying to be okay with that ;). Anyway - I managed to make my once a month deadline, I'm not really entirely sure how I managed to do that. This month has been completely crazy with a million hours at work, chaos that has surrounded that and lots and lots of birthdays to celebrate in between. Anyways, I am so incredibly proud of this chapter. I love it so so much. It's the longest chapter of the story so far, and as my mom says - 'it's just solid!'. Anyway, enough talking. On with the show!
Chapter Ten
Ione tried to keep her focus on the whiteboard in front of her. She tried to let what Mr. Hudson was saying, sink in. She hated math, even though her Mom always told her it was rude to say she hated something. She hated math - she was never good at it, big numbers tripped her up and forget about fractions. She leaned her head into her hand as Mr. Hudson continued to talk at the front of the classroom, and her mind wandered. She tried to suppress a yawn that was trying to escape. She had had a rough night, they had gotten home late from seeing her Mom at the hospital - Nana and Papa had insisted on going out for dinner, going to Target for the millionth time, buying them more clothes, more things to keep them happy. For a store that she used to like, Ione was starting to really hate going there. Her head faltered in her hand a bit, and she jerked herself awake. Nothing would make her happy, she felt like Nana and Papa were trying to do something - make them forget about the situation. Because it wasn't hard to remember how bad things were and how bad they are now. She hated what was happening to her family. Sher jerked in her seat when Mr. Hudson called her name, breaking through her thoughts.
"Ione, did you hear what I said?" Mr. Hudson asked again. Ione shook her head and sat up straighter, before she slumped her shoulders. "I asked if you knew what the answer to number 7 on the work sheet was."
Ione dropped her shoulders as he repeated the question. Her eyes were drawn to the work sheet in front of her - last night's homework. A majority of it was empty. She had had a lot of homework last night, and when she had come to the worksheet Nana was calling for her to go to bed. So she'd lied, something she wasn't used to doing, and said her work was done. Now she looked down at the paper, feeling disappointed in herself - just like she saw looking back at her from Mr. Hudson.
She hated disappointing people, and as he moved on to ask another student what the answer to the question was, Ione twisted her fingers in her lap. She felt the disappointment, and she only hoped he didn't call her grandparents. Or worse, her mom at the hospital. She couldn't lift her head for the rest of the lesson, not wanting to meet his eyes. She had never not finished her homework before, but in the last few days it had been harder to do so...and she still felt weird asking her Nana or Papa for help.
The bell rang to dismiss the class for lunch, and at first she didn't move a muscle. Everyone around her excitedly pushed out of their chairs. Mr. Hudson let the class sit in groups of four, even though Ione rarely took advantage of that. She moved to get her lunch, something else that had been a reason they had had to go to Target last night. Living out of a hotel had certain advantages - but many disadvantages. She grabbed her lunch bag, and as she turned around to face the classroom, she felt herself deflate a little bit. Everyone in the classroom was in groups, happily chatting with their friends. The sounds of the other kids laughing met her ears, and she began to tremble as it all became too much. She looked around the room with wide eyes. Nothing was different, it was all the same - nothing had changed here. But instead of reveling in that, Ione felt herself crack even more. She blew out a breath and started to walk towards her seat, clutching her lunch bag to her chest. Nana had let her pick out whatever she wanted for lunch - both her and Ayla had chosen some Lunchables; Ayla taking the pizza one while Ione chose the nachos. She should have been excited at the thought, but all the special lunches in the world were not going to help the storm that was quelling in her stomach.
Once she made it back to her desk, she felt her shoulders slump further. She placed her palms on the desk after she had placed the bag on the tabletop. She sighed before reaching to pull her chair out and fall into the seat. But as she reached for her lunch bag to undo the zipper and pull out the lunchable and bottle of water that Nana had packed, she looked up to find Mr. Hudson still sitting at his desk, writing something - probably the note to put in her agenda about her missed homework. She felt her hands tremble as she pushed herself up off her chair, and decided then and there that she would apologize profusely. Anything was better than getting in trouble. She didn't want to make Nana and Papa made, she didn't know how they would react. And she couldn't risk making Mom upset.
Mr. Hudson didn't look up when she approached. She could see that he was busily writing in a book she didn't recognize, and she almost lost her nerve and turned back to sit at her desk. She nodded invisibly to herself, waited a beat before she turned on her heel. With her back turned, she didn't see Mr. Hudson had looked up from his book.
"Ione? Do you need something?" She heard him put his pen down on the surface he was writing on. She turned around slowly, dragging her sneaker along the ground with her face turned intently to watch the action.
"I just..." she trialed off for a moment, without raising her eyes for a second.
"Ione? What is it?" He prodded.
She raised her eyes to look over at him. The words she had planned to say were on the tip of her tongue. She bit the inside of her cheek as Mr. Hudson. "Can I eat my lunch with you?" her voice came out quieter this time.
Rachel's hands, well her good one primarily, trembled as she sat in front of the desk. The woman in front of her, who had introduced herself a few days ago as Claire, was the care coordinator that Mercedes had insisted she see. She bit her lip as she took in the woman, beautiful, blonde, tall and mobile - everything Rachel wasn't at the moment. Her bruises were healing, dulled to faded yellowish with all of the scrapes from his finger nails had healed over with scabs and were in various stages of being finished. But the constant reminders of what had happened, the lingering images were still the casted leg and arm that rendered her nearly useless. All she was good for was trembling, being a burden. She forced herself to look away from the woman, her eyes lingering on the diploma and degrees on the wall before turning over to the expensive art. There were frames on the desk, and Rachel was positive that if she could see them she would see pictures of blondies pretty, happy family. Another crushing invisible scarlet letter on Rachel's score card of everything she had fucked up in recent years.
She didn't like feeling this way. She kept her eyes turned away from the woman in front of her, so the feelings of helplessness didn't show too much on her face. She pushed down the feelings, trying to will herself to remember that she shouldn't be taking her situation, her feelings, out on the people who were just trying to help.
She only turned back when she felt Claire's unwavering stare. When she had met the woman two days ago, Rachel's first instinct was that she wasn't a fan of the blonde woman. Claire had been too quick with advice and suggestions, like she had done this before - dealt with someone like her before. Mercedes had prepared her, with the idea of going to a rehabilitation hospital before she had sent her to meet with Claire. The idea of prolonging her situation, the idea of still not being able to be the one taking care of her girls, leaving them to the care of her parents - something that she still wasn't overly thrilled about - caused her teeth to clench and her thoughts to race. She just wanted to move on, push it all away.
But her parents made even doing that hard.
Her Mother had been the first one to push for the rehab hospital. Rachel herself had recoiled at the idea, not wanting to be separated from her girls any longer. She didn't think she needed to go off to another place, another hospital that would have the same blank walls and stupid visitation rules. She didn't want it. She wanted her life back.
But everyone, her parents and Mercedes included, assured her that would come later.
Whenever that was.
"I got confirmation from Carmel this morning, that your room has been reserved and they'll be expecting you later this afternoon. I've spoken with Dr. Paterson, and he'd like to see you one more time before the transfer ambulance..."
"Do I have to take an ambulance?" Rachel questioned. She raised her eyebrows as she watched Claire shuffle the papers on her desk. She could see from her vantage point her name scrawled on a few pieces of important documents. She tried not to eye them to critically.
"That is protocol, and with your injuries..."
"Can we not discuss my injuries?" her words came out clipped, harsher than she wanted. She cowered a bit when Claire looked at her with a pointed expression of her own. The older woman had a way about her, of making her feel even smaller than she was. Rachel dipped her head and focused on her casted hand for a moment. "Sorry...just...that's all anyone has wanted to talk about and I just..." her thought trailed off.
Claire nodded. "How would you prefer to go this afternoon?" she offered. "We want this to go as smoothly as possible for you Rachel. We're doing this to help you."
Ione sat across from Mr. Hudson at a table in the library, her legs swinging under the chair she was sitting in. She stared at her lunch in front of her, suddenly not feeling like she wanted to eat the nachos anymore. She dropped her eyes and played with the label on her water bottle. Mr. Hudson had his own lunch laid out in front of him and she tried not to eye the chocolate bar that was sitting beside his sandwich.
"You know, when I was younger the nachos were my favourite Lunchables," Mr. Hudson started. "Only instead of coming with a delicious pack of twizzlers, they used to come with a kit kat...that's how kit kats got to be my favourite," he winked as he commented before picking up his sandwich. "Did you pick it out for the twizzlers?" he asked before taking a bite.
Ione sighed, before reaching for the bottle of water to unscrew the cap. It was tough, and took her a few tries. But she got it and dropped the lid onto the table before taking a sip carefully. "I actually don't like twizzlers," she whispered. "I just wanted the nachos..."
"Well, that was definitely the best choice. I'm sure your...Nana, packed more in your lunch knowing that," Mr. Hudson offered.
Ione shook her head. She eyed her nachos that she still hadn't opened.
"What else is in your lunch?" Mr. Hudson asked carefully.
"Just this," she answered carefully. "Nana said that this was all she was going to get because it had a snack and everything in it. We were in a rush last night because it was too long at the hospital because Ayla didn't want to go," the words came out in a jumble. "We'll probably have to go back tonight again..after we see Mommy," she sighed.
Finn noted the way her head dropped when she said the words. He chewed the bite of his sandwich carefully as he took a second to think about what he would say next. He watched silently as Ione picked at the cardboard container, finally choosing to get started on her lunch.
He watched carefully as she picked at the corners of the cardboard, pulling at the paper and tearing it off. But she stopped short of pulling the container out of the confines, dropped the small piece of cardboard that she was holding in her hand.
"Ione?" he asked quietly. She didn't lift her head. "Ione, you should really get started on your nachos or you're going to run out of time..."
"I know," the words tumbled out, and she didn't look up at him when she spoke then. He turned back to his sandwich when she began to pick at the packaging again. He tried not to stare at her, instead choosing in that moment to focus on his sandwich. He reached for the Pepsi he had plopped on the table when they sat down, and tried not to make a show of it when he popped the tab open.
"Nana doesn't let us have Pepsi," she commented as she finally worked to pull the container out of the packaging, and immediately pulled the plastic covering back. "She says it's going to rot our teeth. Mommy said it was okay sometimes. Brody said it was okay all the time...especially after him and Mommy..." her voice dropped off. Finn swallowed the sip he had taken of the drink slowly, pausing in effect to see if Ione would say anything more. "Papa doesn't say anything when Nana says those things. Though I heard him talking to her when he thought I was asleep. Said she should just let us be..." she paused with a sigh before picking up a nacho and slowly dunking it in the small cup of salsa it came with. "...Papa bought me this shirt," she mumbled. "It feels weird on my skin, it's too new...Mr. Hudson...it's too soft..." she pushed up her sleeve with her free hand in an effort to get her point across.
Finn watched as a myriad of emotions played across her features. He nearly jumped when she picked up her water bottle and squeezed it so the plastic crinkled. "I want to go home Mr. Hudson," she whispered. Her eyes dropped to her lap, repositioning themselves to where they were a few minutes ago. Finn felt himself sit up straighter, swallow harder though there was nothing left in his mouth to swallow.
"Ione," he started. But Finn stopped, as her eyes lifted ever so slowly to look up at him once more. He noticed then the tears in her eyes. He fingered the plastic of the Ziploc bag he had packed his sandwich in.
"I don't want to go back to the hotel tonight," Ione pursed her lips in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. She looked away from Finn, as he watched her. "I want my own bed, I want my own room. I want to go home. I want...my mom..."
It was like a dam broke. She couldn't keep it back anymore, and she felt her shoulders begin to shake as she turned her eyes away from Mr. Hudson. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and dug her chin into her chest to protect herself. Her chin trembled as the soft material rubbed against her skin.
"Everything was supposed to be better now...everything was supposed to be okay and it's not," she sobbed. She unwrapped her arms, and lifted her hands to her face, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes. "I just want to go back to when we were at home...I'll be better...I won't bug Ayla...I'll..." the sobs rocked her as she tried to press her hands further into her eyes.
Finn couldn't watch her anymore. He pushed back his chair and hurried around the table as her sobs seemed to rise. He crouched down beside her chair, his knees hitting the carpet a little more abruptly than he had anticipated. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands in that moment, so he placed one on the table beside her barely touched lunch, and the other on the back of the high backed seat she sat in.
"Hey, hey, Ione, it's okay," he tried his best to keep his voice low. They were still in the library, and even though it was mostly empty the still present librarian kept throwing him looks every few minutes - even more frequently after she started to cry.
"It's not okay," she cried. "It's not okay! It's never going to be okay again!" she sniffled, finally pulling her hands from her eyes to use the edge of her sleeve to wipe at her nose. "I just want my mom back..."
"Ione, she hasn't gone anywhere. She's just...she's just got to get better and it's..."
"You don't understand Mr. Hudson!" she stammered. She averted her eyes again, not wanting to meet his. She started to hyperventilate and hung her head. "Everything is..."
"Ione, Ione..." he tried to interrupt. "Hey, Ione, how about you take a deep breath for me?" When she didn't stop, he placed his hand on her knee and she jerked at the touch. Finn dropped his hand immediately. "Take a deep breath, okay? I don't want you to get sick..."
"If I get sick I can go home, maybe," she mumbled. But as she spoke the words, it spoke another thought that triggered more tears. She didn't know where home was anymore.
"It's okay, it's okay," Finn tried to placate. "It's going to be okay."
"I don't think that's possible Mr. Hudson," she whimpered. She swallowed hard, her lips trembling as tears rained down her cheeks. She tilted her head to the side, resting it on her shoulder.
In that moment, Finn felt the words Ione spoke shake him - sinking to the very center of his core.
"Ione," her name died on his lips as she hiccupped, the tears still pouring from her eyes. He wasn't sure what to say. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to bring forward any of the advice his mother, his mentors, anyone had ever given him. He opened his eyes and found her staring back at him, her chest rising and falling as she tried desperately to get herself under control. Hiccups and small whimpers slipped from her lips and Finn felt like he was going to burst.
"Listen," he cleared his throat. "Ione, listen to me..."
Her lip trembled and she tried to get herself under control. Finn could tell she was trying, but he could also tell that she had been holding on to these feelings for so long that it was hard to reign them back in. Finn tentatively held his hand out, taking it off the back of Ione's chair. Her fingers, wet with her tears from her eyes, shook as she placed her hand on top of his.
"I promise you, everything is going to be okay," he whispered softly.
Rachel's good hand shook as she attempted to button the sweater her mother had brought her last night. She grunted when she couldn't quite get it, and dropped her hand against the bed, allowing her head to fall forward in the process. She was frustrated, a feeling that was one she had still not become accustomed to. She blew out a breath as she raised her head again and slumped her shoulders, bracing herself to try again. She fiddled with the buttons, using her casted arm to hold the two sides together while her good hand fiddled with the large buttons. The sweater wasn't to her taste, but it was the only thing she had to wear at the moment so she really had no choice but to fight with the material. She sighed in relief when she got the first button done up, before taking a moment to go for the other three. The camisole she wore underneath had been easier to navigate, good arm in first, bad arm in second, pull down and voila. But it was winter, and she had no idea where her coat was - so the sweater was more of a necessity than anything. Rachel allowed herself to lay back against the bed when she finally got all of the buttons done up. She looked down at herself, inspected how the material looked on her and immediately turned her head away. It's not something she would buy for herself - it wasn't her style - and it felt and looked expensive. The fabric, felt something like wool and it was already itchy on her good arm.
But the fabric of the sweater was the least of her problems. She wrapped her arms around her middle, her casted arm pushing up the fabric on her good arm, using her fingers to scratch the skin of her arm. Her eyes traveled over to the wheelchair beside her bed and she quickly skirted her eyes away. The chair was a pain, the source of some of her frustration. She couldn't get herself steadily in and out, she relied on the help of others to get around as she gained strength in her casted hand. She picked at the edge of the cast, finding frayed bits to pick at. Her eyes glanced over the white plaster, smiling slightly as her eyes found where both Ione and Ayla had scribbled and written their names on the cast. She traced her finger over the pictures Ione had drawn, cartoon images of the three of them that were quite lifelike made her grin, as she glanced over the flowers and symbols Ayla had drawn. The girls had added something to the cast every time they visited over the last few days and it was sometimes the bright spot of her day.
The girls. Her head dipped, emotions that she wasn't quite adjusted to rolling over her as her heart ached. Now that it was all final, the plan was in place she allowed herself to feel the emotions she had buried away under anger this morning. Now that she was alone, probably for only a few more minutes, the foundations of her anger cracked and the sadness in her heart, the weakness she felt about the situation seeped through.
They didn't know she was being released today. She didn't want to get their hopes up, didn't want to give them false pretenses about what would happen next. She didn't know what would happen next anyway, just that...just that the doctors and nurses and even her parents insisted that a stay at Carmel Rehabilitation Hospital would do her some good, help her heal. Rachel struggled herself to see the good in it, especially since it was going to keep her apart from her girls for longer. She tried not to let that upset her, but in hindsight it was eating away at her core.
She re-wrapped her arms around her middle, grateful in the moment that the ache from her broken ribs had subsided to just a dull pain now. But it did nothing for the pain in the rest of her body - the rest of her being. Rachel reclined against the bed, her head coming to rest against the pillow and she closed her eyes for just a moment. Doing nothing tired her out most days, and she briefly wondered if she would ever have the energy to be the person she was before ever again. Her life would forever be marked like that, before and after. She could only hope the after would be better, with elements of the before. Just not the parts where there was intolerable pain; which was most of the time.
She kept her eyes closed and told herself she would only sleep for a few minutes. Her eyes were heavy, and her muscles ached from the small efforts she had made to sit up and participate with Claire.
She thought they were only closed for a few minutes, but when she opened them again the small whispers of her parents met her ears. They were talking about the girls, she could hear that much. She heard Ione's name slip from her mother's lips, but not much else. She tried to keep quiet, tried to just listen. Hearing them discuss homework and haircuts, it felt like a different universe. It felt like a different time. It stung, because these were things she should be worrying about for the girls - things she should be taking care of. She turned her head away, the pillowcase crinkling under head as she turned to look at the window beside her.
"Oh, Songbird, you're awake," her father was the first one to notice the movement. There was a surprise in his voice that she didn't really recognize.
"Of course I am," she mumbled. She slowly turned her head back to look at her parents. They both smiled at her broadly, but she could see the cracks in her fathers. He was the worrier of the two. She tried to shift her body to sit up, but it was a struggle to do with one strong hand and a weaker one. When she got herself upright, she stared at her parents.
"I bet you're ready to leave this place," her mother offered. Rachel wanted badly to roll her eyes. Her mother's enthusiasm for her hospital release was like an electric current, and she wished she could catch it. But she felt far from excited about leaving another hospital for another.
When she didn't say a word, her father tried to offer her a comforting smile. "We toured Carmel this morning, your room is so big. And we signed you up for cable, so you'll at least have television when you have down time, apart from physical therapy and your other activities," he smiled broadly.
There was something about his smile that hit Rachel the wrong way. Her anger from earlier this morning seemed to come flashing forward without warning, and she felt her jaw tense.
"You can cancel it. I don't need cable," she snapped. "Wouldn't want you wasting your precious money on me."
She eyed them from the bed, and watched as both her parents turned and looked at each with shocked expressions on their faces.
"Rachel," her mother half chuckled. "You're..."
Rachel shook her head quickly from side to side. "No! And while you're at it, take this stupid sweater too!" she roughly pulled at the buttons she had worked so hard to put on earlier.
It was her father who was out of his chair first. "Rachel," he tried quietly. She tried to push the buttons of the sweater through the holes with just her uncasted hand, and was quickly becoming frustrated with the task. "Rachel," he tried again. He reached out for her, his fingers colliding with hers as she continued to try to tear the button from the hole.
"No! Stop!" she shrieked, thrashing away from his hands. Both Leroy and Shelby gasped at the reaction. "Don't touch me!" she trembled. "Don't...just...I don't need your help! I just...just go..." She dropped her arms against the bed, the thunk of her cast hitting the mattress reverberating up to her elbow.
"Rachel," Leroy tried. He held up his hands, and Rachel's lip trembled and her chin shook as she looked at her dad. "Rachel, everything is okay..."
"Everything... is not... okay," she stumbled through her words. "THIS IS NOT OKAY!" she screamed as she raised her casted arm, tears piquing in her eyes as she slammed it down on her thigh, still covered by the blanket. "The fact that I can't go HOME is not okay!" she screamed. "I don't even HAVE A HOME ANYMORE. I DON'T HAVE MY GIRLS ! YOU HAVE THEM AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!" her voice came out broken, her throat felt rough as the words ripped from her.
The scrapping of a chair on the floor broke her tirade, her eyes widening at the sound. From her peripheral vision she saw her mother pick herself up out of her chair and run for the door. She couldn't hear it or see it, but she knew that there were tears in her Mom's eyes. But she didn't care, not a bit. Her jaw trembled with the anger she felt. Her father stood beside her unflinching. She gritted her teeth together in that moment, feeling the burn on the emotions that had build and then subsequently slipped through her lips.
"Rachel," his voice was quiet - steady. Her eyes felt wide, and like they were glued open. "I know this is hard."
"You don't know hard!" she stammered, her voice weak from the explosion only moments before. "Hard is that...that asshole beating me until I couldn't breathe! And then having to get up and nurse my baby like nothing happened! Hard is knowing that one day, he is going to kill me..." Rachel watched as the emotions played across her father's face. She didn't care about his feelings, didn't care that he probably didn't want to hear this. No one did. No one understood what she had gone through, what she was still going through, what she was feeling and everything she had felt. She gritted her teeth together. "You don't know what it's like to have no one, Daddy. To have no one to run to, to count on - no one but a monster who seems intent on beating you senseless within an inch of your life."
Her father remained mute. Rachel recoiled back into the mattress, her head cradling back into the softness of the pillow, something that had bothered Rachel over the past week. In place of speaking, Leroy took a step forward, kept his hands up in the air so she could see them. Rachel took several deep breaths as she looked at her father, trying to calm herself but the emotions she was feeling in that second were too much.
"Daddy," she whimpered in that second. "Daddy, I..." her words stopped then, and her Dad dropped his hands. Leroy held out his hand and went to touch her. She flinched at the initial touch, but when he rubbed his hand on her shoulder she felt herself tremble again and Leroy immediately pulled her into his arms.
"I'm sorry Daddy," she cried. She pulled him into her more and Leroy wrapped his arms tightly around her, but not enough to hurt her.
"No Songbird, I'm sorry..." he whispered into her ear. "I'm so, so sorry."
Rachel tried not to vomit as her father helped her up the stairs. Her insides flipped as they followed the police officer up the stairs. She tried not to put too much pressure or weight on her father, but it was hard not to. She prayed no one came out of their apartments, even though she was making quite the racket as she tried to hop up the stairs as best as she could.
Her mother hadn't wanted her to come. Begged her, really. But she wanted to. She needed to. Even though her lungs burned and her good leg felt like it was going to catch fire from the excessive use. Her father was trying his best to hold her up, but she knew she wasn't light. Brody had drilled that into her head - her throat burned when she thought his name. She bile rose in her throat as they finally made it to the third floor, her throat and chest burned with exertion. The police officer in front of them handed her the crutch they had given her when she was discharged, and she looked at it with a critical eye. The crutch was something they were supposed to work on at Carmel. Why the hospital thought she would try now was simply beyond her. Her father took it from the cop, and in some form of brute strength tucked it under the arm that wasn't closest to her.
The door was the first thing that met her vision. She sucked in a breath as the gold letters seemed to shine back at her. The door itself looked the same. It hadn't been locked that day, she assumed. In every dream, every vision she had about this moment - or moments like it, the door was shattered, with splintered wood and deep gashes in the parts that were still whole. But it wasn't like that. It almost looked...normal...like nothing had happened. It was funny, in a way, the way she had built up that day - the part where she was saved. She was so in and out of it though, her memory of everything that day, even when she was rescued, was hazy at best. But it wasn't like this. Wasn't - perfect? She shivered, hopping on her good leg for a moment as her Dad kept his arm firmly around her waist.
"Are you sure Songbird?" he whispered against her head. She turned her head slightly so she could catch his eyes.
"I'm sure," her voice was soft. "I have to Dad...I need...I need this..." she whispered.
Leroy nodded. She hoped he understood, more than her Mom did. She felt him press a kiss to her head, and she tried to take the strength and love he was offering, wordlessly, as she took another deep breath.
Rachel turned her attention to the cop in front of her and gave a slight nod. She clenched her fingers around her Dad's arm as she waited for the cop to walk in. Even though Brody had been apprehended, she still only agreed to return to the apartment with an escort. Buried deep in her veins was a fear that she probably was never going to let go of - the fear that he would always be there, looking for her, going after her. Why wouldn't he? He always promised he would finish her off, take the girls - namely Ayla - and run. She flinched when the cop turned back to her from the entry way that was so familiar to her and took in his gesture. He held his hand out and nodded, telling her it was clear.
But what she didn't expect when she walked in, was the state of the apartment. The gasp that left her lips was unplanned, and she felt herself losing her stability in her leg. She put down her casted leg, cringing at the movement that was so foreign to her. She leaned further into her father as she brought her casted hand to cover her gaping mouth.
The place was trashed. Her eyes watered as she looked around, her breath sucking deep into her lungs. There was glass all over the floor of the living room, the early afternoon sun coming through the window caught the edges of the shards and lit them up. She curled her lips behind her hand as her father carefully helped her through, and she felt her heart sink as she looked around. Everything was trashed. All of the frames she had had on the wall were on the floor, cracked and broken. The TV had a large crack in the screen, something that looked to her to be caused by a large glass - or maybe even his fist. She leaned into her father more as she took in the rest of the scene - the slashed couch, the busted end tables - and this was just the living room. She felt sick. Her father dropped the crutch he had been holding with a clank, and she allowed herself to lean completely on him.
Brody had destroyed the place. Destroyed the apartment she had worked so hard to keep over their heads while he was off doing God knows what with God knows who. She curled herself into her father a little more, her eyes flickered all around the room and she felt him tighten his arms around her.
"Rachel," he whispered. She felt herself weakening. "We don't have to..."
She shook her head. "No. I want my stuff..." she whispered. "Take me this..." she wrenched her body to turn around and stopped in her tracks. The stain on the carpet caught her attention. She felt the bile rise quicker than before and she felt her father flinch.
"I..." she stumbled over her words before letting go of her father, no matter how strongly he tried to keep her in his grasp. She fell back onto her good leg, her casted one jutting out in the same unnatural position it had been in for the last week. She was arms lengths away from the stain, but all the memories of that day came rushing back so vividly she could feel the way he had smashed her head against the floor, every kick, every punch she had received. She felt herself dry heave at the reminders, remembering the pain, the anguish, the sweet relief the darkness had brought her despite the fear. This was a bad idea, she shouldn't be here, she shouldn't have come up with her father. Her mother had been right; a bad idea indeed. She shouldn't be here. She felt herself dry heaving again, and her father dropped to his knees beside her and pressed endless kisses to her cheek.
"I'm so sorry Songbird, so sorry," he whispered. The words were nice, but both of them knew deep in their hearts they were doing nothing to take away the hurt each of them would feel for a long time, if not forever.
"Let me take you down to Mom, sit with her in the van...I'll get..I'll get your stuff..."
She shook her head vehemently. "No. I need to be here..." she stumbled through her trembling lips. "I need to do this for myself. For my girls."
"Rachel..."
"Dad, please," she whispered. She turned to look him directly in the eye. "Just...just help me."
"Of course, of course..." he whispered in kind, his face showing every bit of support that she needed in that moment.
She reached her hand forward and let him help her to her feet once he had right himself. When she was steady, she guided him to the bedrooms, following the path of destruction. There was just stuff, her stuff, his stuff everywhere. She stopped in the girls room first, and almost cried again when she came to what she saw. Ione's side of the room? Trashed. Ayla's side? Perfectly untouched. She felt guilt rush through her veins, the feeling gushing from every pore as she paled. She pulled her father over to Ione's bed, and dropped herself to the well worn mattress. She reached for the teddy bear on her bed, one of the first things she had ever bought Ione way back when she was pregnant with her. Ione still slept with it every night, and Rachel weakened at the thought of Ione having to go without for so many nights. She pulled the fluffy, purple bear up to her chest and dipped her head to brush her nose against the old, matted and well loved material. Her tears burned in her eyes as she clutched the bear close, breathing in the smells that were so ingrained in the soft fur. She looked up when she heard shuffling, and saw her father sink onto Ayla's bed across from her.
"What do you think, huh?" she questioned. "Welcome to my nightmare," she mumbled as she hugged the bear to her cheek.
Her father didn't say a word. Instead, Rachel watched as he ran his fingers over the quilt that laid over Ayla's bed. She watched as he looked around, taking in the environment, the things that distinctly belonged to the girls. She watched as different emotions flooded his face. She didn't see judgement, no, instead she saw something else. She saw guilt, sadness, maybe a little bit of regret.
"Daddy," she whispered after a few beats of uncomfortable silence passed between them. "Daddy, what is it?"
Leroy turned to look at her, his eyes glassy. Rachel's own eyes flooded with tears in return as she stared back at him. Everything was made worse by the reaction she saw reflected back in his eyes.
"Your girls are amazing Rachel," he whispered as he cleared his throat. "And this...seeing...seeing this...seeing it all..." he shook his head, as if he was trying to rid himself of the images. Images that forever haunted her. Looking through his eyes now, she saw the environment with new eyes. The room was small, too small for the furniture she had to stuff into it - their old apartment had had three, spacious bedrooms - a luxury she gave up when she was scrambling to find them a new home. And just seeing the destruction on Ione's side, the neatness of Ayla's...it brought everything to a startling halt. She felt embarrassment colour her cheeks.
She ducked her head and pressed her face into the bear again.
"I don't know how I let this happen," she whispered against the fur of the bear. "My girls have...they've been put through so much and I just don't know how we're going to come back from this..." she pondered. Her words shook as she touched the paw of the bear, fingering the worn material between her digits. She sucked in a breath, and tried to collect herself. She couldn't look up, couldn't face her father.
"I just want to make this better for them...for you..." he whispered. "Tell me how I can do that for you guys, because I don't really know how..."
Rachel bit the inside of her cheek and didn't look up at him.
"Just love us," she whispered after she contemplated what he said for a minute. "That's all we need right now..."
"Rachel," he sighed. "That's the easy part..."
She sucked in a breath in that moment, and the air seemed to shift. She blew it out slowly between her teeth as her father looked down at his pants, wiping his hands on the fabric.
"They're going to be so happy to see you at pick up," he commented, trying to lighten the mood. She semi raised her shoulder in agreement. "They will." But neither addressed the disappointment they both knew was coming for the girls.
"Mom wants to take them to the American Girl store this weekend," he commented nonchalantly. He stood up and once more wiped his sweaty palms. "She was going to ask earlier but..."
Rachel chewed her lip and nodded. She felt badly enough as it was, about literally everything. But it also kind of hurt, hearing about what her Mother wanted to do. American Girl was a dream she had had for her girls for as long as she could remember. But their time in Tribeca had slipped through her fingers, and consisted of more bruises than she knew how to count and by the time they moved here...She turned her head to look out the window. By the time they moved here there was no extra money, anything nonessential went by the wayside. To hear that her mother wanted to do something like that for her girls did conflicting things to her heart and her mind. But she tried not to let it bother her. She had too many other things to worry about right now, rather than her hurt feelings in terms of expensive dolls.
Leroy, sensing her conflicting emotions, decided to change the subject. "Is there a bag, somewhere, that we could use to pack some of their things? Mom and I have bought them some clothes but they definitely need some more. And Ayla asked last night about some book?"
"Right, her and Ione were going to start reading Harry Potter," she explained. "I had found a copy at a thrift store by my work before..." her voice trailed off and she felt her throat swell again. She pushed the feeling down. "They like to read at night and most of the time I read with them but..." her voice trailed off. She needed to remain strong. "There's a suitcase on the top of their closet. The book should be..." she tried to shift to the lone night stand that stood between the two beds. But the movement was fruitless, and she tired from the motions. Instead, she chose to point. "The book should be in there..."
If she thought the destruction in the girls room and the main area of the apartment was bad, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw in her own bedroom. It was like he had started here, forced most of his anger on the four walls of the room that held so much horror for her already and continued his typhoon of rage outside. Anything that meant anything to her was broken, her jewelry box and the few pieces of jewelry that she owned were splayed across the floor. The box itself was broken, it looked like he had stomped on it. It had been a gift from her parents when she was Ione's age. The few bottles of perfume she still had sat smashed along the wall, the scents mixing together to make a smell that did nothing but assault her senses. She leaned into her father as she tried to be strong, tried not to let it break her. She'd cried enough today, in the last hour even- but she felt like she just wasn't finished yet.
But what broke her the most, more than anything else in the room was the shredded art projects that littered the bed. He had destroyed them all. Everything she had saved, every art project, every Mother's Day craft - everything was destroyed. He had known where to hit her, where it would hurt the most. The jewelry bow, while sentimental could be replaced, same with the perfume. But the art work was invaluable and she stiffened as her father helped her hop towards the bed and she collapsed into it, grabbing for the torn construction paper and broken popsicle sticks. Tears burned as she fisted it all and curled into herself as much as she could. She clutched the pieces that had the crude penmanship of a 4 year old Ione, something she had made in pre-school that now she couldn't identify. Memories that thanks to him were lost forever, while scars of every bruise and every punch sealed over them like badly wrapped left over meals.
She stayed quiet, taking in her surroundings. This is what it felt like to lose it all. She didn't like it.
"He's taken everything from me," she whispered. Her words were not meant to invite conversation, it was more of a statement. An observation. She heard her father's cell phone ding from his pocket. It was most likely her mother who was waiting downstairs for them to come back down. She knew they were taking much too long, and the meter for the van they had called was probably running high, something she hadn't thought about until now. She pushed the thought from her mind as she continued to stare down at the torn paper. Without looking up, she swallowed her breath before speaking. "There's a duffle bag in the closet. I just want my clothes. And the girls baby books which are up there too..." she added at second thought. "And this..." she grabbed for the crumpled papers she had fisted. "I want this."
Her father looked at her curiously, but didn't say a word. Instead he set to work following her directions. She watched as he emptied her drawers into the duffle bag. She didn't have much. The girls had so much more than her. The way she wanted it to be. They would need comforts more than her. She would be fine. She was alive. She just had to keep reminding herself that.
Rachel twisted her fingers in her lap as she waited for the bell to ring. Her eyes were glued to the front door of the large building. She waited with baited breath, counting the seconds in her mind as she waited for the moment she would be reunited with the girls, outside of the hospital for the first time in a week. Both her parents stood outside the van on the cold sidewalk, leaving her alone in her thoughts but with a clear view of the door. The taxi driver, who she learned was being paid a flat fee to help them with this transition remained stoically quiet in his seat in front of her. She was sat up in the back, her casted leg stretched out in front of her. It had been quite the feat getting in and out, but she would do it all over again.
The shrill ringing of the bell broke her from her thoughts and she felt herself sit up straighter, and her heart beat a little faster in her chest. Her eyes darted through the floods of children that started pouring from the door as soon as the ringing ended, searching for the faces of her children. Her pressure rose when she didn't see them, but she didn't try to panic. Her kids always took their time, had always been like that from the moment they were each born. But she bit her lip anyway as she waited for them, her anxiety peaking as she tried to imagine how they were going to react when they saw her.
Ione took her time gathering her homework. She clutched the math work sheet in her hand, the one Mr. Hudson had given to her after lunch. It was a different one from last night, that much he had promised her. She had admitted to him, as they walked back to the classroom at the end of the lunch period that she hadn't done the sheet from the night before. She didn't tell him it confused her, that fractions were complicated to her. But he had offered her another chance to finish the work, gave her a different sheet. But as she looked at the paper, she could already feel herself start to sweat. She had a few other things to do for homework, like some take home reading assignment and even a little bit of science work. Two things she would much rather spend her time on, but after Mr. Hudson handed her the sheet, she promised herself she was going to try her best to get it done. Even if she had to ask Nana or Papa for help.
"Ready to go Ione?" Mr. Hudson called from his desk. Her head snapped up from the sheet she was staring at, to find his kind eyes staring back at her. She hurriedly snapped herself back to attention and tossed the page between the pages of her notebook. She nodded her head quickly and scooped everything up in her hands.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hudson," she offered him a small smile as she headed for the door.
"Sure thing, Ione..." she watched him nod before going back to packing his own bag. She watched him for a moment, words dying on her tongue. She wanted to thank him, for helping her at lunch, for giving her another chance to finish her homework. But the words stopped as she watched him pack up his books. When he looked up she snapped out of her trance and quickly headed out to the hallway to get her things together. She didn't want to make her Nana or Papa wait longer than they had to, so she quickly got her things together.
But as she pushed her way through the doors, she stopped at the top of the stairs. She spotted them first, before they noticed that she had left the school. Both Nana and Papa were standing outside a van she didn't recognize, taxis that a week ago was so foreign to her. Now they were a regular part of her life. But when she searched further around her grandparents, she gasped when she locked eyes with her mother.
Ione propelled herself down the stairs faster than she ever had. She skidded around the few other kids that were still on the walk way and came to a stop in front of the taxi in a blink. She ignored her grandparents in favour of going up to the glass, running her fingers over the glass as her mother raised her hand on the other side in return. Ione felt her eyes burn as she pushed a smile to her lips, just as she heard Ayla come screeching behind her.
"Mom," she whispered.
"You can get in you know," her Nana smiled. "We have to get going soon so you..."
Ione didn't have to be told twice. She moved away from the window and speared her way through her grandparents to yank open the door to the van, taking a few tries before it rolled open.
When she came face to face, or as close to face to face as she could with her mother a half sob bubbled from her lips. "Mom," she whispered.
"Ione," Rachel smiled back. Ione kneeled on the seat that was in front of her, her face coming to rest on the top of the seat. She couldn't stop looking at her, her arms itching to reach over and touch her. She wanted to hug her Mom so badly, but was so afraid to hurt her, that she would disappear if she got too close. But when her mom reached her hand out, the one with the cast, she felt the same sob come to her lips. She didn't reach out in response at first, she didn't want to hurt her bad hand. She wanted the hand with no cast.
"It's okay," Rachel whispered, reaching her hand out more prominently. "It doesn't hurt badly anymore..."
Ione nodded and gently touched Rachel's finger tips.
Rachel almost cried at the gentle way Ione reached out to her. She gently curled her fingers around Ione's and felt the little girl immediately respond.
"Mom," Ione whispered. "Mom, what are you doing here?"
Rachel felt tears spring to her eyes. Ione looked so hopeful, so happy in that moment, a look that had been missing from her little girls face over the past few weeks.
"I came with Nana and Papa to pick you up, is that okay?" she asked calmly. Ione looked at her quizzically. "Do you want to come back here? Come sit with me, I want to hear all about your day..."
Ione looked at the space between the chairs as the door on the opposite side of the van rolled open and Ayla ambled in, unable to be kept back by her grandparents any longer.
"It's okay," Rachel assured. "Just be careful. But you can't hurt me, that's what the cast is for," she tried to encourage.
"If you're sure," she replied quietly.
"Of course I'm sure, come on," Rachel encouraged. She lifted her uncasted hand to help Ione across and watched as she stripped her backpack off before slowly maneuvering her way around.
Ione felt like she was going to burst when she sank into the seat beside her Mom. Rachel immediately wrapped her arms around her and for the first time in a week, Ione felt safe.
Rachel pushed her nose into the top of Ione's head, breathing in deeply as she closed her eyes. The tears that had sprung to her eyes were hard to keep back as she held her. It felt like it had been so long since she had been able to hold Ione like this, hold either of her girls like this - she just wanted to take it in. She pressed a kiss to the crown of Ione's head before pulling away with a soft smile on her lips.
"I'm so glad you're here Mommy," Ione whispered. Rachel looked down at her quietly, before she pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I know I've seen you every night but I've really missed you..." she whispered, her voice dropping.
"I missed you too Mommy!" Ayla squealed from where she was kneeling on the opposite chair. She bounced a little bit on her knees. "I missed you this much!" she giggled as she held her arms outstretched.
"I missed you so much too, sweet Ayla," Rachel smiled.
Ione curled herself more into Rachel's side as Ayla crawled between the seats and around Rachel's cast to join them in the back. She smiled gingerly as Ayla started to carry on about her day, bouncing on her bottom a little bit as she told a story about something that happened at lunch time. Ione just cuddled into her Mom's side, feeling the way her Mom's side rumbled as she laughed a little bit at the tale Ayla was telling, that she felt was wildly embellished. But she smiled anyway because it just felt good to be with her Mom. She didn't want to do anything to make this feeling go away.
"You're going to love the hotel Mama, there's a swimming pool! Me and Papa went swimming a few days ago! Nana bought me a new purple bathing suit! It has big yellow stars on it!" she giggled. "We can get you a bathing suit Mommy and you can..." her eyes dropped and focused in on Rachel's casts for a minute. "Oh..."
"It's okay sweetheart," Rachel sighed. "It's okay. I'm glad you liked going swimming..."
Ayla nodded. Ione cuddled further into her as the van started up and began to drive. She didn't miss the look that passed between her mother and Nana, when she turned around to look at them. The small on her face was reserved, not the same as the one she had given her earlier when she first got out of school. She quizzically looked up at her Mom, who was once again enthralled with something Ayla was saying.
The drive seemed to take longer than Ione remembered. But she tried not to think about it, because right now she had everything she wanted. She had her Mom back. She yawned as she leaned into Rachel, and wondered if she could ask Nana and Papa if they could get something special for dinner. Her stomach rumbled a bit because she hadn't finished her nachos by the time lunch time had been up. Mr. Hudson had offered to get her finish, but she had shook her head - too afraid to disappoint him any further.
"You hungry baby?" Her mom whispered against her head. Ione pulled her head up and looked at her, just as the van came to a stop. "Did you eat all your lunch?"
Ione shrugged a little. She turned her eyes out the window and saw that they had come to a stop in front of a large building that was unfamiliar to her. She saw up straighter in her seat when she saw two people, one woman in hospital clothes and a man in a long sleeved sweater came walking towards the van. The man was pushing a wheelchair towards them. She quietly slumped into her seat as they came closer, and reached for her Mom's hand instantly.
"Mom," she whispered. She grabbed for her hand, and immediately worked her fingers to clutch her Moms. She felt her squeeze them back, but she didn't say a word until the door rolled open, hoisted into position by her Papa who had gotten out of the van once they stopped. "Mom, why aren't we going back to the hotel...I thought we were going home..." her voice dropped an octave as her head dipped. She felt her Mom press a kiss to her hair as her Nana got out of the van too and stood just outside.
She began to sweat a little when her Mom didn't say anything.
"Mom?" Ione asked quietly, again. She dragged her eyes over to the window and once again looked out. The building had three words on the brick wall. Carmel Rehabilitation Hospital. "Mom, what's happening?" She started to hyperventilate, started to feel her palms get sweaty - even the one that was holding her Moms hand. She heard the murmurs of her grandparents outside the door, heard unfamiliar voices talking back. But all she wanted was her Mom.
"Ione," Rachel started. She turned to Ayla and took her hand in hers to, wrapping her fingers around the smaller ones as best she could with her cast. "Ayla, girls, I need you to listen, okay?" Rachel's eyes flickered between the two of them. Her heart broke when they connected with Ione's for a brief second, seeing the sad look on her features and the even deeper hurt in her eyes. Ayla for her part offered her a small smile but had seemed to pick up on the sadness and questioning Ione had opened.
"Mom," Ione's voice was quiet.
"I'm not going to be going to the hotel with you guys," she started quietly. "And we're not going home...we're not going to go back to the apartment ever," she said with finality. Her voice shook as she looked back and forth between the two girls. Both were staring back at her with vastly different looks on their faces. Rachel swallowed and pulled both their hands into her lap. "You're going to go back to the hotel with Nana and Papa...and I'm going to stay here..." she whispered.
"But...Mom..." Ione's voice shook as realization seemed to dawn. She curled her fingers tighter against her Ione's to try and comfort her. Rachel took a deep breath and turned to look at Ione fully for a moment.
Rachel weakened when she saw the tears in her eyes. Ayla's response to what she had said was much quieter - she was already humming a song under her breath. "Ayla, why don't you go see if you and Nana can take my bag to my room? Papa says they signed up for cable so maybe..."
"Maybe I can see if Jessie is on!" she squealed. She stood up with a flourish to her movements and squealed. She leaned over slowly and pressed a kiss to Rachel's cheek. "I'm gonna make sure your bed is super bouncy Mama! Just like the one at the hotel!" were her parting words.
Rachel turned her attention back to Ione as they heard Ayla passing on the information she had just been given. She waited until they had gotten her duffle bag out of the trunk before she turned to look at Ione again.
"I know this wasn't what you were thinking was going to happen Ione," Rachel started quietly. Ione sniffled in response. Rachel took that as her answer. "I know you want more than anything for me to come home, for us to be together again. I promise you, that I'm going to come home. We're going to make a new home very soon. But that day isn't today," she continued. She watched as one, silent tear rolled down Ione's cheek. She continued to look forward instead of looking at Rachel and she felt her heart sink. "The doctors, Nana and Papa think it would be a good idea if I came here for a little bit. They're going to help me here, with my leg and my arm and help me..."
"... But what about me, Mommy?" Ione's voice came out slowly, with a slight crack in between the words. "What about me? And Ayla?" her voice was lower. "What about me? I need you Mommy..."
When her voice trailed off, Rachel felt her own resolve break. "You're going to be okay sweetheart. I just need you to be my strong girl for a few more days...everything is going to be better sweet girl, I promise. And what happens when I promise?"
It took Ione a few quiet seconds to respond. "It comes true."
Rachel allowed a small smile to pique on her lips. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ione's head. "I love you so much Ione..." she pressed a second kiss to her forehead as Ione leaned into her. "We're going to be fine one day sweet girl, you'll see..." Rachel promised as she pushed her fingers through Ione's hair. "We're going to be just fine..."