"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will." - Mahatma Gandhi
Tommy's head feels like a ten ton slab of pure dumb-ass as he slowly rouses from his drink-induced black out. He has no idea where he is, he can hardly open his eyes without the light in the room coming in and making his head pound harder. He doesn't recognize the smells of wherever he is. Is that strawberry?
Yeah, now he knows where he is. It figures she would come to his rescue, right? He vaguely remembers hearing Brendan's voice at some point recently but he can't remember what was said. He tries to sit up but his body isn't co-operating in the slightest. The pounding inside his skull increases with every movement and the pain reaches a point where all he can do is moan. He hears movement in another part of the nearby space, then the squeaking of a door opening. Footsteps approach and even the slight shuffling sound of them is enough to make him whimper in pain.
"Hold out your hand, I have some ibuprofen for you." It's Heather speaking lightly. Her tone is low but the words sound stiff. She's pissed, why wouldn't she be? He was pretty nasty to her last night, was it last night? He holds out his hands and feels two pills drop into his palm. He places them in his mouth and then feels her press a glass to his lips as she lifts his head gently from behind. Swallowing takes effort, more than it should. His throat feels scorched and blistered. How much had he drank in that bar? Enough to forget, at least for a little while, he thinks to himself as the medicine travels down his throat slower than it should have.
"Take your time getting up and don't be surprised if you puke. There's a garbage can to your left. Please try to direct it into there." The directions sound cold and clinical and all he can do is blink his eyes in answer. He hears the footsteps retreat and the door closes again.
Tommy feels like shit and it's more than the hangover making him miserable. He'd unloaded on Heather and it was a shit move. She'd only ever tried to help him, had never asked for anything in return for what she was trying to do for Penny. Hell, she'd even offered up her own savings to get Penny into rehab. But for what reasons? Tommy figures he'll never know now, she sounds pissed enough to throw him out the fucking window as soon as he's walking again.
As much as he'd like to force his way up off of whatever he's lying on and make the walk of shame to his own place across the street, he just can't. She was right when she said that he would puke, he knows it's coming but he tries to chew it back until the medicine kicks in and helps with the headache. No such luck though; only a couple of minutes pass before he has to roll off into the floor and blindly find the can. Torrents of bitter bile and undigested alcohol makes its way out of him and the smell of it causes additional vomiting. At some point Heather makes her way back into the room and lays a cold cloth on the back of Tommy's neck as he purges the last of his stupidity from his system. She grabs him underneath his arms and helps him back onto what he now knows must be her bed. She feeds him another two tablets and some water and props him up on pillows before taking the can from the room.
Tommy realizes that he must have dozed off again because when he opens his eyes the light isn't coming through anymore and his headache is gone. He slowly sits up on the edge of the bed, his toes making contact with the garbage can which no longer smells like bourbon and stomach acid. He feels even worse knowing that Heather has taken care of him and cleaned up his sick even after the way he treated her. Score another one for Asshole Conlon, Jr. Looking down he realizes he's in his boxer briefs and nothing else. He glances around the room but doesn't see his clothes anywhere. Standing is a slow process, his balance is shit and his head swims as he takes some tentative steps to the door. Opening it a crack he sees Heather sitting on the couch, her feet curled underneath her body, her face distant and lost in thought. There's a manila folder in her lap; he can tell that she'd been crying not too long ago and he feels even more like a cad.
"Heather," he calls lightly so as not to startle her, "I, um, I can't find my clothes."
"I'll go get them, they're still in the dryer. I didn't think you'd be awake yet. Sorry." She's terse with her words and her body language as she stands, tossing the folder onto her coffee table. She disappears down a hallway and is back in a couple of minutes with his belongings. They're folded neatly and they smell a lot better than they ever do after he does laundry. His wallet and the keys for the gym he'd left her at are sitting on top. She passes the stack to him and closes the door in his face before he has a chance to thank her.
Tommy takes his time getting dressed. He owes her an apology but he's not good at them. He can't seem to ever say sorry without it ending in tears or an argument. Sitting on the edge of her bed he rubs his face roughly and realizes his hands still smell faintly of bubble gum. He can't help the smile that crosses his lips briefly. It had started out so good that night. But he'd choked a man with those bubble gum scented fingers and had drank enough to kill a normal man in a seedy dive since then.
Looking at the bedside table he sees a framed picture of a dark haired woman. The picture is a candid shot, the woman is smiling, her head thrown back and a very familiar smile gracing her face. There's no doubt whoever this is, she's related to Heather somehow. Not willing to stall anymore, Tommy stands and walks slowly to the door, ready to do his best to convey just how shitty he feels about everything.
Heather isn't on the couch, instead she's at a little four seat dinette in the kitchen area. She has the folder in front of her, her hands are clasped together and she looks beyond grim.
Walking over Tommy opens his mouth several times before the words actually start to come out. "Heather, listen. What I said was…"
"Shut up and sit down Tommy Conlon. You've said enough, now it's time for you to listen and you'd better hear me." She turns her face to him and there's no doubt from the look on her face that she means business. He doesn't even think of not doing exactly what she says; he meekly walks to the table and pulls out the chair directly across from her and sits.
Opening the manila folder she pulls out a picture and pushes it across the table to him. Glancing down he sees an emaciated looking girl. Her body is covered in scratches and bruises, both of her eyes are blackened. At the bottom of the picture a piece of white paper has been glued to it. In typewritten words it says Hunter, H. Case 14789 evidence. He leans in closer and realizes that it's Heather. She's obviously much younger in this picture and had been brutalized by someone. He feels his anger flare up and he looks up at her. Her expression has hardened exponentially.
"I was fifteen. I'd been to a party, I was high on Oxycontin and I ended up getting passed around as the party favor without my consent or my knowledge. When the rape kit was done there were 34 distinct DNA fingerprints that came from inside of me. Thirty four guys had their way with me that night while I was passed out on painkillers. There hadn't been but ten guys at the party when I got there but they had so much fun with me that they'd decided to call some friends, then they called some friends. And they didn't just rape me, they punched me, slapped me, shoved other things inside of me… just for the hell of it, because it was funny to them to inflict pain on me and for me to be so out of it that I didn't even react, well at least not until I came around as the last three were having their turns."
Tommy opens his mouth but she raises her hand to silence him. "I said you're gonna listen and I fucking mean it. This isn't easy for me so let me get through it. Then you can say whatever you want or say nothing at all, but you're going to listen to me and there's a reason you need to hear what I have to say." Tommy nods and Heather takes a deep breath before continuing.
"You might wonder why a fourteen year old girl would be on such a powerful painkiller," she stops and digs another picture from the pile, passing it across the table to him. He's afraid to look but makes himself. It's a picture of the same woman who was in the bedside table photo. Only in this one she's obviously angry, her brows furrowed and pointing her finger and a lit cigarette at whoever is holding the camera.
"That's my mother. That's Olivia Hunter on a bad day; a day where there was no Motown or dancing in the living room. No, this is the kind of day where the demons were talking in her head and she drank cheap vodka straight of the bottle through a straw. One of those days when she would grab whatever was handy and try to beat out the evil she saw in me. I took this picture because she never remembered those kinds of days once they had passed, never really believed it was her that had left the bloody marks all on the back of my body. She's the reason I ended up on painkillers. You see, I'd gotten so good at rolling my twelve year old body into a tiny ball that she didn't have enough places to hit, so one night she decided to pick me up and throw me down a flight of hardwood steps. I ended up with a back that was broken in two places , multiple other breaks in my arms and legs and in a full body cast for nearly a year. The pain was so intense that I was prescribed pain killers during my recovery."
Tommy feels sick again as she relays what happened to her but he's determined to hear everything she has to say, he owes her that much.
"I was placed in Holston Home which is an orphanage for all intents and purposes for a year after the hospital released me but was placed back in my mother's care when I turned fourteen. I was sent packing with a script for Percocet and one refill after having been on it for nearly two years. When it ran out, I ran off with some other displaced kids from Holston. Drugs were abundant in the crowd, someone always scored something somehow, whether it was from robbing or bartering with their bodies. That had never been an option for me as far as I was concerned, but I couldn't shake my habit. One night a couple of the oldest kids broke into a pharmacy and came back with Oxy's. I'd never taken them before but after the first one I was hooked. After that, trading my body for drugs didn't seem like such a big deal. I lost my virginity to a Sheriff's deputy who fucked me in the back seat of his cruiser for some Oxycontin he'd stolen from evidence. Less than a year later I was in the Laughlin Hospital ER, being tested for every kind of STD imaginable because of the drugs I was on."
Heather passes another picture to Tommy, this one is of Heather and another woman. They have their arms around each other and are smiling. Heather looks a little older and much healthier.
"That's Karen Tilson, she's the nurse who took care of me in the ER after the rape. She's the woman who saved my life, even if I didn't know it or appreciate it at the time. She got me into a drug treatment program, was there every step of the way, even when I left the first time after 14 days. She tracked me down, talked me into going back and finishing. Not just that time but the three other times I left before I completed the program. She paid for it out of her own pocket, each time. When I asked her why all she would tell me is that she believed everyone deserved another chance at a happy life." Tommy looks up from the picture and sees a single tear slide down Heather's cheek. His heart is breaking for her; he wants to hold her but he knows this story isn't over.
"You see, I was Penny. And after talking to Brendan last night, I realize that I was YOU too. I was angry at the world, angry at my mother, angry that life had dealt me such a shitty hand. But I was so busy being angry that I didn't see that I was responsible for all my decisions after I ran away from home. I put myself in danger, not the universe. I chose to medicate myself instead of seeking help. I let anger and hate consume me and it cost me dearly. But then someone stood up for me and made me see things clearly. It didn't happen overnight but it did happen and I'm blessed to be alive. I'm blessed that I was given another chance, blessed that I wasn't given a disease the night that all those men took advantage of me. I was blessed to have my eyes opened by an angel here on earth. Karen gave me a place to live while I finished high school courses and started college but more than that, she gave me hope. She never asked me for a single thing in return other than to be happy and to stay clean and flourish."
Wiping her eyes, Heather pulls out a newspaper clipping and slides it across to Tommy. The headline speaks of a 'local woman' losing her life in a car accident.
"About a year after I graduated from the community college with my RN degree, Karen was killed in a car accident. She was hit head on by a guy who was out of his mind, high on meth. She was ejected from the car, thrown headfirst into a retaining wall and died instantly. You know what my first instinct was when I found out? To steal Oxy's from the meds closet at work. I was so hurt, so angry, so mad at God for taking the only stability I had from me that I wanted to overdose on my drug of choice and never come down. But I heard Karen's voice in my ear, clear as day, and she begged me not to give up, not to dishonor her that way. So I kept myself clean, not just for her but for myself. I never knew all the people she had helped the same way that she helped me until her funeral. There were dozens of us there. So you going out last night and drinking like that, you think that hurt your father? Did it hurt Penny for killing herself? Did it bring your mom back or your friend who died in Iraq? Did it get you revenge for anything that ever happened to you or did it only serve to make you sick and for me to have to clean up after you?"
Reaching across the table she lines up everything she has passed over to him and slowly points at each of them.
"This story, with a few minor changes, could be Penny, it could even be you Tommy. We all have our demons, everyone does. Your father lives with the consequences of what he did to you and your family every day. My mother lives with Bipolar disorder and a greatly revised history; to this day she would never admit that she used to beat me and especially now that she's "found God" she never drank to hear her tell it. Penny lived with the memories of what was done to her and I live with mine. You live with the idea that you should be Superman and that you've let people down somehow because you're a human man instead. It's just not true!"
Heather stands and starts to walk back and forth behind the chair. She's agitated and speaking quickly, her hands fly out in front of her, gesturing wildly as she paces.
"I was wronged so badly by my mother and by strangers at a party. Hell, if I wanted to throw myself a pity party I could say that the system failed me too by sending me back into an abusive environment. But I choose to be someone different than what I was set up to be by my past. I choose not to be bitter, to live every day to the fullest. I choose to forgive my mother because she's sick. She's mentally ill and it's beyond her control because no one ever convinced her differently. She never had anyone like Karen to lend her a hand while there was still time to make a difference. I forgive those men at the party that did what they did to me. I knew if I were to carry around that kind of anger it would consume me so I laid it down. Forgiveness doesn't absolve them of their guilt, it doesn't mean I will ever forget it but I forgive them. Don't you see Tommy? If you continue to let what your father did to you back then define who you are today, he wins! The mean, abusive drunk from your childhood is still pulling your strings and that man doesn't even exist anymore!"
Heather looks almost deflated as she sits back down in her chair and begins to gather the papers and pictures off of the table. Quieter now, she puts them back into the folder and closes it before she speaks again, "I wanted to save Penny because I saw so much of my old self in her and I knew that even as far gone as she was she could still come back. I wanted so bad to see her overcome her past and to become the person she was meant to be before all the fucked up shit came and changed her path. I wanted to be a part of giving her a happy ending to a sad story. She's gone and I feel responsible; not for her death, but for what's going to happen to you now. Who's gonna make you see that you're a man of worth, someone who deserves happiness and a life free from the demons of the past? Who's gonna save you Tommy?"
Standing again, she puts the folder under her arm after taking out the picture of her and Karen. She smiles at it sadly and places it on the table. Walking over to the stove she turns the burner control and lights the gas stove top. Putting the edge of the folder into the blue flame, she holds it there until it catches fire and then drops it into the cast iron double sink, watching it burn into nothing but ash.
"That's the last time I will ever tell that story," she whispers. Turning to Tommy, she folds her arms and stares at him defiantly. "So now you know my sordid tale. I told you because I want you to see that it doesn't matter what your past is. You have control now and you can choose to either let it continue to control you and rob you of any chance at happiness or you can tell it to fuck off and live the best life you can. I've only told this story to three other people and all three of them ran once they knew that I used to be a drug abuser and that I was gang raped at a party. It didn't matter that there is a million miles between the girl I used to be and the woman I am now. What's it gonna be with you Tommy? Am I too damaged, too ruined for you? Or can you look past all that and see me for the person I made myself into?"
Tommy answers her by crossing the distance between them and taking her into his arms. Carrying her to the couch he sits down, pulling her into his lap and holding her as closely to his body as he possibly can. He kisses the top of her head and the back of her neck lightly as she cries into his chest; she's letting go off all the tension and stress of reliving her past one last time.
"You're so strong, so brave," he whispers to her, his voice shaking with emotion. He pulls her tightly against him, refusing to let her slide even a centimeter away from him. "Teach me how to be strong like you. You're right, I don't want to be like this anymore, I can't live like this, I just don't know any other way. Help me… help me."
"I've got you Tommy, I won't let go until you tell me to. I promise."