Page 22 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Videotaped?”

Something tinged his voice with an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint but couldn’t care about because she was caught in her memories. “At first I didn't understand why there were these holes in the wall. I later figured out they were for cameras.” Anger flashed red-hot. “Guess what he did with the recordings? He uploaded them to the internet. Our faces were never visible, but him raping me was as clear as day. I kept hoping someone would see the tapes and report it to the police. God, Jake, it was sick. Guys put in requests for things he could do to me.”

A sharp inhalation. “What happened to the tapes?”

“Since Lester was dead, the police saw no reason to confirm the existence of the tapes. But I live in constant fear of them being disclosed.”

“That's why you're concerned about your story being revisited.” Empathy echoed in his voice, acknowledging her fears.

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “All it’d take is one police officer to say something, and everything could be exposed. You know the theory about once something is on the internet it can never be deleted? That's my worst nightmare. All my father's lawyers wouldn’t be able to put that genie back in the bottle.”

“What can I do?”

“The fact you ask is enough.” The pain in her chest lessened. He hadn’t judged. “All I ask is for warning if it looks like my secret is about to be revealed.”

“I can do that, but why not get a legal injunction?”

Pressing her fingers to her brow, she swallowed down the impotent rage and volatile frustration. “Right now, they’re just tapes of anonymous rapes. The sick people who downloaded them have no idea what they have. If we get a legal injunction, that’d be acknowledgment the tapes exist.”

“Why tell me this now?”

Good question.

“Maybe I thought you needed to know. Maybe I was afraid you might hear about it from someone else.”And I want to hear your voice—to have you reassure me.

“I'm grateful you trust me.” His tone was quiet—his words sincere.

“Here’s the thing, Jake—I’m not sure whether or not I do.”

He huffed. “Yet you called me.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. Making the call had been good in theory, but much harder in reality. Digging deep to find the words because she wanted to help him, she forced herself to remember. “Olivia is facing a world that doesn’t understand her—that she can’t relate to. The human contact is hard. Dealing with people after many years of solitude, of isolation. That's why Olivia's having trouble adjusting. Too much noise. Too many sights. Too much light. Too many scents. After years of being deprived of those basic things, it’s overwhelming to have them. Hell Jake, I hadn't seen the sun in seven years. I still find myself standing in the sunlight, marveling at the warmth and brightness.” The blinding light of Lester’s kitchen flitted through her mind, and she ruthlessly forced it away.

“Wow.” He said the word quietly.

What’s he thinking? Does he understand how hard this was for me?She opened her mouth to ask.

He continued. “That’s rough. Yet, you still cope. You work at the library dealing with people every day.”

“I do, but doing it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.” She faltered, nerving herself to venture further into her past pain.You’ve come this far. Go for broke.Taking a fortifying breath, she continued. “I’ve been there four years. I started out as a volunteer and eventually secured a paid position. Not that money is important.” She rushed to clarify. “My father’s no fool. He set up an annuity for me for the rest of my life. I never have to work.”

“But you choose to.”

“I do.” Suddenly, this became easier because she wanted him to appreciate what it cost her. “I found a little library in a smallish town where I was a stranger. I’m taking correspondence classes, and eventually I'll earn my bachelor’s degree. If I had the guts, I’d go back to school to do my Master’s of Library Science, but that involves me going out in the big, wide world, and I'm too much of a chicken to do that.”

“Marnie, you are the leastchickenperson I know.”

His words did something deep in her belly. Warmth and gratitude suffused her. “I got lucky. The librarian trained me, and I'm willing to work for barely more than minimum wage.” She offered him a small smile he couldn’t see but could hear. “It's been a mutually advantageous arrangement for the past four years. I won't pretend it’s been easy. That's one of the reasons I pushed myself.Heused to bring me books. Some were contemporary, but mostly the classics. Anytime I was alone, I read. Since he left me alone most of the time, I got a lot of reading done. It's ironic, because he had no interest in literature.”

Jake said nothing.

“I escaped through those stories.” The vortex of memories pulled her back into the dark-and-damp basement. She didn’t fight. “I craved to share the love of literature with others. One of the things that got me through was novels. He gave me a dictionary to help me discover language. The books…” Her voice broke, but finishing was a necessity, so she swallowed convulsively and continued. “Those books carried me away from my reality.”

She swore she heard him curse under his breath. Had she gone too far? The rapes, the videos…andthiswas the breaking point? The books? Every instinct in her said to hang up the phone and to forget this call had ever happened, but she didn’t do that. She took one lungful of air and let it out slowly.

Finally, there was a shuddering breath on the other end. “I…” He cleared his throat. “Olivia hasn’t been in school since eighth grade. They enrolled her in a high school equivalency program, but I have no idea how it’s been going. I figure she probably wasn’t seeing any tangible results, given that she dropped out several months ago.”

“She needs an education.” This topic was safer for Marnie, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts. She flashed back to the library in her father’s house. As a child, she'd spent precious little time there, but it’d been her refuge the year after she escaped. Hounded by the media, running from her demons, she used that room to immerse herself. In that room she studied to get her high school equivalency. In that room she plotted her escape from the city she despised. Olivia needed a comparable space.

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