Kristin Ashe: A Safe Place To Sleep Part 11

Chapter 10.

"That must have been hard on you," I said when we got back to her house.

We were comfortably seated on one of her sofas. She'd started a fire a" three logs which looked like toothpicks in her ma.s.sive fireplace a" and served us drinks. Tea for her, Dr. Pepper for me.

"No problem." She grimaced. "Actually, it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"That's saying a lot. You've done some pretty hard things."

"None that compare to this."

"For a minute there, I thought you were going to start crying."

"Who me? Never!"

I looked at her, my eyebrows raised.

"For a second, I did feel like crying, but I couldn't. Not in front of her. Not when I didn't know her."

"She is your grandmother, Destiny. Maybe you could have comforted each other."

"I don't think we could have. It's too late for that."

"Maybe so," I agreed reluctantly.

"Can I ask you something, Kris?"

"It's not about Gallagher, is it?" I asked, my guard up.

"No," she laughed. "Not this time."

"Okay, then."

"What made you decide to take this case? Why did you want to help me?"

I didn't answer right away. When I did, I started with the easy, obvious reasons, hoping to avoid the harder ones.

"Well... you were a friend of Mich.e.l.le's...."

Long pause.

"... and I've always admired you from afar."

That made her laugh.

"No, really," I protested. "The work you're doing is important."

"Is that all?" Her eyes seemed to bore a hole through my thoughts.

"Er, no," I fumbled for the right words. "I wanted to give you back your childhood, Destiny... and I'm not sure if I should say this...."

"Go on," her gentle voice pushed me.

"I wanted to get back my own, too." I let go of her steady gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any memory either a" not of the first seven years of my life, anyway." I was starting to sweat.

"Why not?" She reached out to calm my fidgeting hands.

"I don't know."

"Did something traumatic happen to you when you were little, Kris?"

"Yes! No! I don't know!"

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened! Everything happened!" I screamed, startled at the anger in my own voice.

The exhaustion of the past month was starting to catch up to me. I was on the edge and I knew it.

"When you started helping me, the memories started coming back for you, too, didn't they?" Her words were as soft as her touch.

"How did you know?" My voice quivered.

"Every time I see you, you look like I feel: more tired and more scared. Are you sleeping at night?"

"Not much."

"What's scaring you?"

I shook my head violently.

"Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is." I nodded my head vehemently. "Every night, I close my eyes, but I never sleep for long. The images... they're awful. How could such horrible things happen at night after a little girl closes her eyes?"

"What things?"

"Oh, no, I can't say." In a monotone, I started to chant, "No way, can't say, no way, can't say a""

"Kris, please, let me in just a little. I trusted you a" trust me!"

"No way, can't say, no way, can't say a""

"Try!" she implored. "Try!"

I stopped my chant, but for the longest time, I couldn't say anything. I just clutched the loose jean material near my right thigh, then let it go, clutched it and let it go. Finally, there was the crystal clear sound of a voice, a voice that cracked and shook as it learned to speak.

"I think I was abused when I was young."

She didn't say anything.

"s.e.xually abused," I added.

Still, she was silent. Perhaps she knew that if I stopped speaking, I'd never start again.

"By my father." There. After a lifetime of silence, the words were out. Life-changing words that could never be taken back.

I breathed for the first time.

"I'm so sorry, Kris. I'm so sorry for you." Destiny began to cry.

"I can't sleep anymore because every time I close my eyes, I'm afraid someone will attack me and he does, in my dreams. I'm so tired, so utterly, completely exhausted from the terror. All I want, more than anything else in this world, is to have a safe place to sleep. I want my own bed, in my own room, to be a safe place, but it's not."

Destiny s.h.i.+vered but didn't say anything.

"I've never slept well, but I've never had night terrors like these. I hate the darkness. Most nights, I'm awake half the night. I try to think about work. It's the only thing that makes me happy. I plot how much money I'll make and try to forget about what woke me up. The next day, I can barely work. I go home early to nap. It's only safe for me to sleep when it's light outside and I'm on my couch in the living room."

"I'm so sorry, Kris. I'm sorry if I brought this on," she said between tears. My own eyes were as dry as the crackling fire.

"You didn't," I snapped. "He did. My father did. When I took your case, I was scared to death something like this might happen and it has, but I had to do something."

"Does Mich.e.l.le know?"

"No. No one knows. I don't have proof, just flashes of memories I can't accept. For a long time, on some level, I guess I've suspected something happened because of what I can remember, how my father used to walk around in his underwear, how he wasn't affectionate with my mom, but was overly affectionate with us kids, things like that. But I've never had a conscious memory of the abuse. I blocked it too well. Only at night do I get my clues, in my dreams. I know it's him in my dreams. It has to be him.

"Don't you see, Destiny, my memory loss is the most incriminating evidence of all against my father. I've blocked the horror from my mind, and everything else, too. Last year, my grandma told me about the first time my brother David had an epileptic seizure. He was three then and I was six. We were all in a restaurant and he slid off the booth, writhing and convulsing. At the time, they had no idea it was epilepsy. They thought he was dying. They called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. I was there the whole time, and I can't remember one bit of it. Neither can my sister Ann, and my G.o.d, she was eight years old. Whatever he did to me, he must have stopped when I was seven, because that's when my memory starts."

"What do you think made him stop?"

"I don't know. Maybe my mother caught him a" that's right around the time she started spending so much time in bed. It's all so vague. Unfortunately, my only clues come from these horrible dreams."

"Is there anyone you can talk to when you have these dreams?"

Wearily, I shook my head.

"I can't. Who's awake at 3 a.m.?"

"I am."

"You are not!"

"I'm an insomniac."

"Mich.e.l.le told me you sleep like a log."

"Okay, so I lied. I'm not usually awake in the middle of the night, but I could be. You could call me."

"I couldn't, Destiny. I just couldn't. What if...." I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

"What if what?"

"What if my dream's graphic? Wouldn't that make you sick?"

"Not at all."

"And you're not just trying to even things up? I helped you and now you'll help me?" I asked, regretting the question even as it left my mouth.

"This may be foreign to you, Kris, but I'm trying to be your friend," she said with a trace of anger.

"I'm sorry, Destiny." I started to cry.

She came closer to me and held me, tentatively at first, then more tightly.

The tighter she held me, the more I cried.

"Please call me. If it happens again, promise you'll call me."

"I will," I said. "Or at least I'll try."

"I called you about my dream. You were the first one to hear me cry. A historic moment. You owe me, Kristin Ashe," she joked.

"I'll call," I said, not really sure I would.

All the way home, I thought about what it meant to be a "victim of incest." I hated both those words. Victim. Incest. I hated people who saw themselves as victims. I would not be one of them. I hated the thought of incest. How could it have happened to me? Over and over again, I tried on the words for size, hoping they would fit, praying they wouldn't.

Chapter 11.

When I got home, I called my sister. Every ring seemed like an eternity until I heard her voice.

"Ann?"

"Hi, Kris."