Page 8 of Bones

It takes us a few minutes to wind our way through the crowd and make it to the bar, the guys doing most of the work, acting as a plow. The guy’s order our drinks to make sure there’s no “funny business” as they put it. By the time we get a few drinks in us we are ready to make our way to the dance floor.

I sway my hips as I dance to the beat, enjoying the blissful freedom. Here I’m just another girl. I’m not the girl with all the trauma and baggage, the girl who was trafficked and doesn’t even know her own family. I’m just another teenage girl, looking to have a fun time and it’s a goddamn relief.

Most of the guys at the clubhouse have a vague idea of the shit I went through, and I still catch pitying looks from them occasionally when they don’t think I’m looking or when something triggers me. But here I can almost pretend that that wasn’t me, that it happened to someone else, and I’d just heard about it. Just a sad story I watched on dateline, and not actually experienced.

Elana giggles as she smiles down at me, her heels giving her the added height as her arms flail around in the air as she dances. This is the side of her I love seeing. The silly free spirit who lives in the moment and has no regrets.

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I catch someone that looks vaguely familiar, but by the time I turn my head fully it’s gone. I slow down for a moment as I look around the rest of the club. My body tightens instinctively as fear trickles back in. Is it one of my old masters?

“I have to pee.” I shout to Elana, and she gives me a thumbs up. I turn to make my way to the bathroom, knowing one of the guys will follow close behind. I just need a moment to gather myself. I open the door and walk in, leaving Jax out by the door as I pant, trying to catch my breath. I head towards one of the stalls, glancing to my right, and stop dead as I see her. She looks so familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. I swear I’ve seen those eyes before. Her gaze flicks to mine in the mirror and hers eyes widen like saucers.

“Beth?” She breathes in what I can only describe as shock missed with a gut obliterating pain. Although I don’t know how she could put that much inflection in one word, or how she could possibly know me.

“Y-yeah… I’m sorry do I know you? You look so familiar.” I squint as if that will somehow give me the answers. Her eyes turn sad for a moment before she forces a smile on her face.

“I’m Angie.” Her voice is so soft I can barely hear it over the sound of the music raging just outside the door. That name… Angie. I say it to myself a few times in my head before images start playing rapidly behind my eyes like watching a movie in fast forward. A little girl in a yellow dress, a tea party, dancing under a willow tree.

Angie!

My hands fly to my mouth as it all comes back. She’s the little girl who used to come to me in my dreams.

“Angie!” I pull her into my arms, I have no clue why but knowing that little girl I used to dream of is a real person heals something in my chest. Knowing that the little girl who held me together when I was alone and in my darkest hour, is here, causes tears to drip from my eyes. She sniffles into my shoulder. “You’re real.” I whimper, barely able to contain my emotions.

“I…I’m so sorry.” She breaks, her whole body sagging against me as she wails into my ear. “I’m so so sorry, Bethy.” She pulls back slightly, her face crumbling in utter anguish.

“For what?” I ask, confused as to why she’s apologizing. She saved me and she doesn’t even know it. It was thoughts of her that kept me holding on. Clinging to a life beyond all the torture and pain, a life where I was once an innocent little girl just playing with her best friend.

“I had no clue he was doing it to you, to. If only I had been brave enough to tell someone sooner. To say something anything then maybe it wouldn’t have happened to you to. When I was finally able to tell someone, no one believed me.” Big fat tears roll down her cheeks causing her mascara to run but she doesn’t even bother trying to wipe it away.

I stiffen at her words. Him. Dane. He was doing it to her too? Needing more information, needing answers, I pull her deeper into the bathroom. “I can’t remember a lot from…before. But I remember you and a tea party. I remember a yellow sundress and your brown curly hair.” I smile sadly as I finger her Sherly Temple curls.

“M-my father.” The words comes out forced like she was having trouble getting it past her lips. Omg her father was Dane. Images reform in my mind, the tea party, but now I remember his house in the background. The Willow tree in his backyard that we always used to play under during the summer.

“Oh God.” My hand slams against my mouth as my eyes close, pain ripping through me. We were best friends just as Dane and my father were. They were business partners, father trusted Dane with his life… and mine. The pieces filtering in, just needing that little spark to trigger the memories.

“H-he,” I pause not sure if I can even speak the words.

“Groomed you. Yes.” Her eyes close as if in physical pain, as if she to, is reliving it.

“Then he sold me…” My words break, the truth in the words still sting even though I know he never really loved me, never really cared for me, just pretended too. Her eyes spring open as her mouth drops, horror on her face.

“W-what?” she stutters, her brain not able to process what I’m saying. “He told everyone you ran off. We looked everywhere for you, for weeks! It wasn’t until we found one of your sweaters out in the woods with your blood all over it that we assumed you were dead and had your funeral.” She bows her head, tears dripping from her face to the dingy ground. “Oh my god. Your parents!” She starts to pace, tugging at her hair as thoughts fly through her mind at light-speed. She finally stops in front of me, her hands gripping my shoulders as I stand there in shock, the numbness taking over as I work to process all I’ve just learned. “I’m so glad you’re okay. That you’re alive.” She tugs me back into her arms, squeezing me tightly, the tears never ending.

I don’t know what to do with this information. I know I have more questions and that I need answers but at the moment my brain can’t handle anything else. I feel like all the progress I’ve made over the last few years are slipping away from me with each passing moment. I stare blankly at the wall, my body and mind fracturing under the weight. Is he still out there? Will he come for me if he knows I’m still alive?

She must see that I’m struggling with all this because she says, “Can I get your phone so I can give you my number so if you have any more questions you can call? I’ll do my best to answer everything I can.” She strokes my hair back from my forehead gently as I blankly reach into my pocket and hand her my phone. Unable to say a word.

“There you go.” She smiles gently, handing me back my phone. I want to know what’s happened to him. I want to know if he’s still alive, but I can’t bring myself to ask. The little girl inside me still scared of the man who had once been her everything.

She turns back to the mirror attempting to fix her makeup with a tissue.

“Why…” I shake my head, the sounds working over my throat like I just swallowed a handful of gravel.

“Why, what?” She stiffens as if she’s scared of what I’m going to ask.

“W-why did he do it to you?” It might not be the most appropriate question, but I guess a part of me understands how he could do it to me. But his own kid.

She shrugs. “I don’t really know, honestly.” She blows out a breath, and I can tell this is just as hard for her as it is for me. “It’s taken me a long time to even remotely heal, but if you need anything please. Please call me. I’ll always be here.” The fierce look on her face tells me she isn’t kidding. Her hands land back on my shoulder like she’s trying to anchor both of us somehow. “I’m so sorry.” She says again before she leaves me alone in the; thankfully; empty bathroom.

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