Page 11 of Knot All Is Lost: Part 1

Biting on her bottom lip she struggled with the knot but finally worked it free, then slowly she undid each button. In an interesting turn of events, it almost seemed by taking control of doing this helped her gain more confidence. Her hands steadied, shoulders straightened, and while she wouldn’t look at either of us she wasn’t turning away or trying to hide.

Survivors of abuse tended to respond in a few different ways, either feeling they will always be a victim or the other end of the spectrum, where they become fighters never allowing themselves to be a victim again. Now I hardly knew Cambrie or her story, but something told me she wasn’t a quitter. She might not be a fighter per se, but I don’t see her becoming a doormat either. The fact that she was standing before me now showed me just how tough she was.

When the jacket slipped down her arms and dropped to the ground Nixon and I were faced with all the evidence we would need to know her life had been anything but loving. Covering her arms and legs in an array of colors from deep purple to a sickly lime green were bruises. Around her one ankle were signs she’d been chained, and the cuff had rubbed her skin raw. The mark that nearly sent me over the edge was the shadow of fingerprints on her neck from someone either trying to strangle her or pinning her against something.

After you got past the marks on her the other glaringly obvious problem was how skinny she was. Her bones were clearly visible and I could only imagine what her body must look like under the dress being that malnourished. She was the poster child for abuse victims, how had no one seen this or done anything about it?

“Cambrie, I noticed your hands were pretty scuffed up, did you fall?” Nixon asked.

Just as she was about to answer, the office door opened making her scramble to hide behind one of the desks. Spencer froze looking at us both for direction. I waved him in, knowing that dealing with things like this would be a common occurrence in the near future. It was going to take time for her to believe she was safe and for us to learn her triggers. Dealing with PTSD took equal work on the victim and those around them.

“Spencer has come back with water to wash your feet, Cambrie,” I shared. “Take your time, come back and join us when you feel ready. There shouldn’t be anyone else coming to this office tonight.”

Cambrie peeked over the desk finding it was indeed just Spencer. After a moment she came around the desk, eyes cast to the floor as if she was ashamed of her reaction. A sharp intake of breath from Spencer had me giving him the side eye ensuring he didn’t say anything about her appearance. The last thing she needed was to feel guilty about how she looked, even though none of it was her fault, but abuse victims didn’t always have the ability to view things in the correct light.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Spencer apologized. “I should have announced it was me before just walking in and surprising you.”

Worrying her poor lip, she glanced at Spencer and nodded, then turned to Nixon. “I jumped out of the car.”

Nixon frowned, cocking his head to the side. “I’m sorry, you did what?”

“I didn’t fall, I jumped out of the car,” she repeated, lifting the dress just enough for us to see her knees.

There was asphalt gouged into them and little trickles of dried blood down her legs. Just when I didn’t think things couldn’t get worse, she told us something new.

Spencer set down the bowl of water and pulled out a folding chair for her to sit on. “Cambrie, will you sit here for me? I need to get some more rags but I want to soak your feet so we can clean them without it being too painful for you.”

Dropping the fabric she’d been holding she shuffled over to the chair and tugged it so her back was to the wall and she could see the door. The amount of conflicting feelings coursing through me left me at a loss of how to act. One side wanted to hunt the man down who dared lay a finger on this girl, while the other just wanted to wrap her up in my arms, purring for her. Clearly, there was no way I would leave her to go after this man so I had to content myself with finding another way to take care of her.

“Are you hungry at all? As I mentioned earlier dinner is just about to be served so I can bring something back for you?” I offered.

Glancing up at me she nodded slightly, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“All right, you soak your feet like Spencer asked and I’ll be back with food. Nixon will be here with you to make sure nothing happens,” I explained, wanting to drive home that none of us were going to leave her alone, and if we had something to say about it she would never be alone again.

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