Page 19 of Saving Tracey
I didn't dare try to touch her. I didn't want her to pass out again. "Tracey, you're in the hospital.”
She snapped her eyes over to me and then snapped them onto my mom and the social worker. "Kaleb, what in the hell is going on?" Fear coated her words, making her voice come out squeaky and high-pitched.
"Tracey," Mrs. Freeman spoke up, coming around to the side of the bed, but not coming too close since she realized that Tracey was panicking, "your parents are currently being hauled off to jail as we speak.” Tracey’s eyes widened in shock. “I've done a home evaluation, and I have enough evidence between your body and what I and the police discovered in your room to send them away for a very, very long time."
Tracey's mouth opened and closed like a fish, no sound able to make it past her lips through her shock. Mrs. Freeman continued talking. "Tracey, I have a feeling I already know, but could you please tell me why there was blood on your bed? I am recording everything in this session so that you do not have to face them in court." Vomit rose in my throat at the mention of blood on her bed. I wasn’t naive. I knew what that meant.
Tracey's eyes filled with tears, and her arms wrapped around herself. I felt something tug in my chest at the sight of her. It was heartbreaking.
“H—he . . . raped me." Her whisper was broken, and it ripped my heart to shreds.
My mom clutched my hand tightly. I squeezed hers back, desperately needing support at this news. Not only was she beaten, but she was fucking raped.
I wanted to throw up, and this shit hadn’t even happened to me.
It had happened to the broken, shattered girl laying in the hospital bed in front of me.
"How many times?" Mrs. Freeman’s face remained impassive, though I saw a flicker of rage and sadness flicker in her eyes.
A sob ripped past Tracey's lips as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I—I lost count."
I swallowed vomit.
"When did it start?"
"I think I was nine," Tracey whispered.
A sob ripped from my mom’s throat.
Tracey opened her eyes, and she instantly looked up at me. Slowly, she reached forward and grabbed my hand. I didn’t dare move in fear that it would scare her, and I was right. "Please don't make sudden movements." Her plea was filled with pain and fear. "I just . . . you're the only person I trust right now, and this is really hard." She sobbed. "I hate feeling like this."
"The doctor noticed self-inflicted wounds on your thighs and wrists, and he also noticed some drugs in your system, such as antidepressants. Tracey, did you ever try committing suicide?"
Fuck.
Tracey nodded after a moment, and my heart broke. “Every day.” Fucking hell, but she always seemed so damn strong. "I just wanted it all to end. He scares me so much, and I knew that he would kill me if I told someone. I wanted to die by my own hand, escape it all with it being my choice, not his. It was the only thing I had any kind of control over.”
I forced myself to not drag her into my arms and hold her tight against my chest. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to help her.
I hated that she had tried to commit suicide. If she had accomplished what she had set out to do, the sad part was that no one would miss her. Tracey didn't let people close. She didn't talk to people.
I had a feeling that was her biggest reason for never wanting to make friends.
She didn’t want anyone to miss her when she finally left.
"Do you have any friends, Tracey?"
Tracey shook her head at Mrs. Freeman's question. "I didn't let anyone close. I didn't want them to hurt when I finally died or be worried if I suddenly didn’t show up to school for a while.”
She continued to throw questions at Tracey, to which Tracey gave honest answers. I could tell the strain it was putting on her to tell someone what had been going on her entire life, how bad she felt.
The shit that happened to her was sickening.
Mrs. Freeman left after the doctor came in, letting us know the extent of Tracey’s injuries and how best to take care of them. Afterward, Tracey was released. My mom sighed softly, letting her eyes meet Tracey’s green ones. "Until I get a room set up at home for you, you can sleep in Kaleb's bed, okay?" I sure as hell didn’t have any complaints.When was the last time Tracey had comfort?There was no way in hell I would let Tracey sleep on the couch or an air mattress while she was in this condition.
"I don't have any clothes."
My mom shook her head at her. "That's okay, sweetheart. I'm an abuse victim myself.” Tracey’s eyes snapped up to hers, wide with disbelief. “Not to the extent you are, but I still know how you feel. I had to throw almost everything out and move into a whole new house on the other side of town to even begin tostart healing and moving on from what happened to me. So, this weekend, we'll go shopping for all new clothes, and we'll get you some brand-new furniture and other things that you want, okay? A fresh, brand new start will help you heal, Tracey.”
