A fear of men, heterosexual men, came from my last night in New Jersey. After the accident, the State arranged for me to go into foster care once I was released from the hospital. I didn’t have any family other than my parents, they were orphans too. I was in a daze when the whole process happened. Eight days after waking up in the hospital, I was turned over to state custody. I would have been handed over sooner but they were monitoring me to make sure I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore. I was placed with a husband and wife who already had two foster girls. Brittany was seven and her sister Leslie was five. The State was apparently so bogged down with foster kids, that they weren’t as picky with foster parents as they should have been. I had to share a room with the two girls. They slept in one bed and I slept in the other. Though I already was a high school graduate, the State and the foster parents insisted that I attend public school. The teachers were nice, but I was bored and depressed.
Two weeks into living with the foster family, I started taking complete care of Brittany and Leslie. Dean and Amber, the foster parents, if you can even call them that, wouldn’t bother with me or the girls. They both drank, neither worked, watched TV the majority of the day unless they went out, and it was clear that they were living off of the foster care money. I wondered if the social worker who placed me with them knew that Brittany and Leslie needed me.
I stopped talking since the day I woke up in the hospital, but that didn’t seem to hinder me from assuming a motherly role for the two girls. They were young, sweet, and never a handful. Since I wasn’t really sleeping either, and I was up before the girls from the nightmares, it was easy to make sure they were dressed and fed before walking them to their school which was right across the street from the high school. At the end of each school day, they would wait for me until my school was let out. We’d walk home, do homework, and then I’d take them out to play for an hour before going inside to cook dinner. The brutally cold winter weather was much more palpable than the storms of Amber and Dean. After dinner, we’d play some more in our bedroom before I got them bathed and ready for bed. Since I didn’t speak, the girls would pretend to read books and would describe a different adventure each night from the pictures. They were able to make me smile a few times.
Our daily morning and evening routine for the week spilled over into the weekends. I would take the girls out of the house for the whole day to avoid Dean’s and Amber’s drunken fits and rages. We didn’t have any money, but we always had fun everywhere we went. I was determined to distract them and myself from the miserable house we lived in. Since the foster home was a brick row home in Hoboken, we did have some nearby places to go to other than the park when the days were too cold from the winter gloom. We’d venture around town going into the local bookstore and some of the shops on the block. One of the restaurant owners would invite us in to rest, warm up. They even started giving the girls and me food every time we visited. The owner, Martin, was even nice enough to invite us to the Christmas and New Year’s feasts he and his wife would host in their home above the restaurant. I made sure we attended. It was a pleasant distraction. They even gave the girls and me a few gifts, mostly clothing, but we accepted graciously.
On one particularly dreary day, towards the end of January, Dean saw us from across the street. He was picking up his weekly secret ration of liquor that he hid from Amber. Spotting us in the window, he stormed into the restaurant shouting and cursing. Dean accused me of stealing money and sneaking the food we were eating as he grabbed me by my still injured right arm just below my shoulder. One of the restaurant staff members quickly ran to get the owner.
Martin intervened by placing himself between Dean and me. “She didn’t steal money from you, Dean!” Martin shouted loud enough to make his point to Dean while trying not to scare Brittany and Leslie. “Get out of my restaurant. You are not welcomed here. The girls are, but you aren’t.” Martin nodded to Conor who was behind the counter and Conor picked up the phone.
“Don’t you tell me what to do,” Dean slurred.
“I gave the girls the food. Let them be and go home,” Martin insisted taking a step closer to Dean.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Dean blurted out with a breath that reeked of whiskey that I smelled from six feet away.
“This is my restaurant. Get out before I call the cops,” Martin demanded.
“Fine, but they’re coming with me,” Dean barked as he reached to grab Leslie’s left forearm, but Martin blocked him.
“No. I’ll bring them home later after they are finished and you’ve calmed down,” Martin sternly commanded.
Dean glared at Martin with rage. Suddenly, Dean went to strike him but missed as Martin easily moved out of the way, causing Dean to fall to the floor.
I wondered if he saw the punch coming.
“That’s it,” Dean muttered as he tried to stand up straight several times.
He repeated his attempts to strike Martin; each time Martin ducked and Dean fell.
The police station wasn’t far, so they arrived just after one of the times Dean got to his feet, still stumbling from intoxication.
Once the police removed Dean, the girls huddled on my lap. Martin and Conor cooperated with the police and gave statements. The police tried to get me to talk, but Martin told them that I was mute. So instead, they just asked questions and I nodded or shook my head.
The girls and I finished eating slowly out of sheer amazement and shock at what had just occurred. I cringed at the thought of what would happen when we would get back to the house. I prayed that they would keep him locked up until morning.
When Martin and his wife Celia dropped the girls and me off at the house, they parked the car and followed us in. The house was dark and empty. They hugged us goodbye and Celia gave me their phone number just in case anything should happen. I nodded in understanding and appreciation.
I picked up Brittany and Leslie and carried them upstairs. I knew they were exhausted and scared from what had happened with Dean, so I only had them change into their pajamas. Instead of tucking them into their bed, I climbed in gesturing for them to join me. I sat up against the wall as Brittany and Leslie fell asleep with their heads on the pillow I had placed across my lap. Nervous about Dean coming home at some point, my eyes stared at the wall across the room.
The need to leave was evident. Once the girls were asleep, I quickly and quietly snuck out of their bed. I stuffed the rest of my things into one of my bags and then took them both to the backyard to my bike. I strapped one to the front of the bike and left the other one next to it. It would be on my back when I was ready to leave. Then I returned to the girls.
The sound of a door being slammed roused me and my head jerked up. I blinked my eyes rapidly to clear them as I listened. I slowly crept off of the bed trying not to stir the girls in desperation to know who had arrived. I tipped toed to the door and cracked it open slightly. I heard Amber mumble something and my heart settled a little.
As I closed the door quietly, time stood still as the roaring sound got closer. His boots stomped up the stairs as Dean took them two at a time.
“What the hell Dean?” Amber shouted after him.
The door swung open just missing my back by a few inches, and before I was able to turn all the way around, his cold, rough hand was around my neck. My feet lifted slightly off the floor as he propelled my body into the bookcase behind me and held me there. My eyes, wide with fright, got even wider when the girls screamed in terror. Dean's right arm hooked and caught me in my stomach. I clawed at his hand on my neck, gasping for air, Brittany suddenly jumped at his free hand as he swung back to give another excruciating blow. He flicked her off his arm like she was an ant, and during that brief moment of his attention not on me, I was able to clip him in his groin with my right knee.
He slumped to the floor wailing in pain. Still gasping for air, I saw Amber standing in the doorway frozen and watching. I stumbled to Brittany to help her up when one of Dean’s hands seized my right ankle and yanked it, swiping my feet out from under me. I fell onto my still healing right shoulder with a thunderous sound just missing Brittany by an inch or two. The pain in my arm subsided, most likely due to the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I quickly rolled and shoved my left food into Dean’s face.
I ran to the doorway and shoved Amber out of the way who just stood there like a statue. I stumbled downstairs to get the phone. Before dialing, my eyes were drawn to Amber’s body that plunked down the stairs followed by Dean staggering in delight. My eyes searched for things to throw at him as I pressed 9-1-1-send. I tossed the phone towards Amber’s limp body at the base of the stairs just as Dean lurched for the wrist of that hand. Suddenly, pain pulsed in my head, I was on my back on the floor. Dean towered over me and my eyes flickered to see Brittany grabbing the phone from behind him.
“You fucking bitch!” Dean howled at me. “You fucking bitch! I’m going to kill you.”
He hovered over me as I tried to shake the dizziness from my aching head. When our eyes locked, he said, “But first….“ A sinister cackle revealed itself from his mouth. “I’m going to have a little fun with you.”
As he lowered his body over mine, I scrambled to get away and kicked furiously at him almost clipping him in his manhood again but he deflected my attempt. He pinned both of my hands above my head with such force that I felt the rug burning my skin. I screamed out in horror.
“That’s it. Scream. Fight. It will make this all that more enjoyable,” he professed his intent.
Trying to unbuckle his pants in his drunken stupor, my left arm broke free and I jabbed my thumb into his right eye. He yelped in pain as both of his hands shot to his face. Feeling me scurry away, he swung his left arm as he tried to focus and find me with his only good eye. I swiftly kicked him again in the groin and down he went.
I took a few steps back to give myself distance from him as I plotted my next attack. Brittany caught my attention and nodded, waving to the phone as she and Leslie embraced each other. I nodded back. She pointed to the closet at Amber’s back and my eyes sprung up remembering the baseball bat.
I grabbed the bat and handed the girls their coats and boots as I escorted them to the front door. I unlocked it for them to leave but rushed around when I heard Dean trying to crawl.
“Get back here, you bitch!”
I raised the bat above my head, poised to whip it down into the side of his head. “Emma?!” Leslie meekly uttered.
I looked back, not realizing until then that Brittany and Leslie were still in the house. Lowering the bat, I thrusted my foot into the side of Dean’s head. He was out cold after that.
Compelled by a devious thought, I went over to Dean’s hidden liquor stash and found eight bottles of whiskey, five bottles of tequila, and four and a half bottles of vodka along with several boxes of cigarettes. Dean doesn’t smoke. I never saw him and I never smelled it. Picking up one of the boxes, I was surprised to see wads of money stuffed in them. I opened one box all the way and it was packed full of one hundred dollar bills. I took all of the cigarette cartons that were hidden at the bottom.
I rushed back to the girls who were still standing in the front door while Dean and Amber lay unmoving. Without saying a word, the girls knew my intentions and hugged me. I could hear the police cars in the distance. I gave Brittany four of the six packs of money along with a piece of paper. Brittany hung up the phone on the police dispatch. I punched in the number for Martin and Celia and held it to her head.
“Martin,” she said more confirming than questioning as the phone rang on the other end.
I nodded.
We embraced, and for the first time since the accident I spoke, “Take care of each other.”
They sobbed as I lead them out front before I turned away.
I snuck out the back on my bike after grabbing my coat from the closet. I hoped that the police would handle the situation at the house for the next few hours and not bother looking for me right away. With the pain seeping back into my bones, I rode to the Hoboken station, getting on the just arriving train, and took it to Union City station that was near where I had lived with my parents. The neighborhood was dark and motionless at four o’clock in the morning and an empty feeling crept into my heart.
The house was lifeless when I found the spare key under the back step and unlocked the door to let myself in. Nothing had changed. Nothing had moved. The state hadn’t done anything to it.
I went into the house only to collect a few things. I knew that I couldn’t stay. My eyes stayed dry the entire time as I went throughout the house grabbing what I needed and wanted. I switched out some clothing, grabbed some no perishable food from the kitchen, and opened the safe my parents had hidden in the wall of the closet at the top of the stairs that no one would be able to find unless you knew to look. The safe was there for emergencies. This was an emergency.
My parents weren’t rich, but they were smart and they made sure to pass that on to me. There was five thousand dollars cash, our social security cards, birth certificates, and even passports that we never got to use. I grabbed it all before fastening it closed.
I left the house with nothing else other than a few family pictures, a few of my mother’s books, my laptop computer, mom’s natural first aid kit to help with my injuries, and never looked back as the door closed. A single tear found its way down my face that night, but it was the only one.
I headed back to the train station that let me off eight blocks from the house. I knew I had to get away, far away, or else the state would thrust me into another unpleasant situation. This time I went to the Newark station and bought a one-way ticket to California. It was several hundred dollars more for a private room, but I didn’t care. It was a small price considering the amount of money I had on hand now. I stopped in the 24-hour convenient store that was across the street to pick up a few minor things before I hid in the restroom of the station. I vowed to remain there until I was allowed to board, needing to stay out of police view. While in the restroom, I cleaned myself, and used some of the stuff from my mom’s first aid kit. Then, I ate some of the food I had in the bag.
I looked in the mirror and knew that another step needed to be taken before leaving. When I stepped out to board the train, my naturally dirty blond hair that flowed just below the middle of my back was now jet black and shoulder length. I blended with the small group of passengers easily. The sling for my injured right arm would stay hidden under my jacket until I got to my room.
The journey went smoothly. I stayed in my car for most of the ride across the country, only exiting my room to eat a little a few times or use the restroom. After my first round of sleep and food, I counted the money Dean had hidden in the cigarette carton several times. I was shocked to find out that I had sixteen thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight dollars with included the five thousand I had gotten from my parent’s safe. I rolled up the majority of the money in small wads and hid them inside my bike frame. No need to have that much exposed to be stolen. I had some buying time to find a place to stay and get a job. Unable to sleep consistently, I would eat or read when I was awake.
A weight was lifted from my heart when I stepped off the train and breathed in the sunny, cool air of California. Though I didn’t know where to go or what to do at the moment, I didn’t care. I felt free.
That’s when I met Jared. He is not just a friend. He has become family. He has become my brother. Other than my parents, he and Maggie are the only two people who have my heart and who can break it.