Chapter 14: Chapter 13: Release
Friday January 18th, 2013 - 7:00 A.M.
Hospital
"Are you sure she's able to leave? Leave? Leave?" that last word echoed through Samantha's brain as it throbbed angrily. She recognized it instantly as her best friend, Layla. Never would she ever not know who her best friend was, not only because of the southern accent, but because her voice was so angelic. It always reminded her of her mother, whenever she'd try to pass on some last bits of advice, before a date or to tell her to study hard. Samantha's heart ached at the thought of her deceased mom; the only thing keeping it relatively okay was Layla.
She couldn't see anything in that room at all, due to the blurriness of her eyes as they tried to adjust to the light. Two figures could vaguely be made out, one was unmistakably the golden hair of her best friend, and the other was her personal physician, she figured. "I know what you're thinking. Thinking. Thinking," the doctor replied. "But her vital signs are good. Good. Good." "I wish the echoing would stop." Samantha heard her own voice this time and somehow, that was magnified even worse than the other ones. "Why are my ears ringing so much?" It took all of her energy not to burst out into tears. A reassuring hush and Layla's fingertips across her arm, calmed her nerves.
"She's totally unfit to leave ma'am. I mean, look at her! Her! Her!" "Please stop yelling," Samantha groaned. The pain in her head was nearly unbearable, as if someone had been hacking away at her skull and touching her brain with white hot blades. "He… He needs t-to be r-released…" even she knew her words sounded grabled and jumbled together. This time, Ellen spoke up and Samantha detected the hint of worry in the background. "Who needs to be released?" Finally after a few more seconds, Samantha saw her doctor come into full focus.
Had she been dreaming, she would've thought Ellen would be singing Sweet Escape and Akon would be harmonizing behind her. But alas, all she had received were the worried expressions of those two around her bed. It took some energy, but Samantha found the strength buried down deep and focused her words. "Corey Smith. He was the man who raped me back at my old college. I'm…" She felt her belly squirm as the morning sickness was kicking in. "Are you feeling nauseous?" Without even expecting an answer, Samantha saw the bedpan slide under her nose.
It took only a few moments before vomit was escaping her. Her belly ached and her throat was throbbing and burning from the acid. It felt like she was puking for hours, until finally, nothing but straight acid was coming up. She felt the sweat on her back, and groaned towards the ceiling. She had to close her eyes, even if it was just for a short while. As her hands caressed her semi bulging belly, she saw the room disappear in front of her eyes. All she could see now was the light show that her eyes produced whenever the lids would close.
That's when she heard the voice of Dianne off just to her left a few feet. "Are you okay honey?" Samantha couldn't find the will to respond; she could barely even try to look for the woman she admired so much. A hand caressed her left shoulder followed by a subtle, "Shhh." The part of her skin that Dianne was touching felt warm, which began spreading throughout her entire body. "Tell them why he needs to be released. Not that you want to harm him, but you learned to turn the other cheek. We'll help you track him down from there. Klyde and I both promise you that you will get your revenge and justice will be served."
"Layla?" Samantha uttered the name without opening her eyes. She couldn't take another ransacking headache that the overhead lights produced. "Yes Sammie?" Samantha felt those slender fingers as they wrapped around her right hand. This was more than enough to get her to open her eyes. And when she did, her heart broke at the sight of her friend. She saw the bags underneath Layla's eyes and her hair had been frizzed and frayed all over the place. "Oh Jesus, girl. Why haven't you gone home to get some sleep?" Her friend just shook her head in return, still rubbing her own hand.
"I-I spoke to the police earlier today. I told them that you did not want Corey Smith processed, even though the pig deserves it." She saw the anger in her friend's face and felt that fire burning in the pit of her stomach as well. Though that could also still be the morning sickness. I'm sure it's the fury as well. Samantha heard her own voice ringing through her head, mixed with the slight hushed, yet loving voice of Dianne, as she was singing in her head. "Be quiet little child, and do not be afraid. Do not feart what is not there; I'll protect you day by day."
"Your voice is amazing." Samantha felt her eyes shoot open, just realizing she said these words out loud. "Who's voice?" Layla replied. Shit! I gotta recover; gotta recover… Ummm…. Ellen spoke up this time, as she checked over the charts. "Samantha may be a bit delirious from the seizure, so she'll say a few random things from time to time. Most of it won't make sense to us, but they will to her. Just nod along and be there for her. I'll go get the release papers." Ellen left the room, drawing the curtain back around the bed. Samantha saw the concern in her friend.
She wanted desperately to tell her about those two she met in the past, and how they would help her exact revenge. But even as she sat there, pondering about saying it, she knew it was for the best that she kept her mouth shut. Shortly thereafter, Ellen returned, with the papers in her hands. "All you have to do is sign at the bottom of this sheet here, and you're all set. Shakily, she grabbed the pen and signed her name. As her hand went across the page, she saw just how much her hand was shaking. "I-I'm sorry about this." "Don't be honey, it's not your fault," Layla assured her.
She underlined her entire name from the last letter of her name, and then she was done. "Right," Ellen muttered. She flipped the other pages down and set a bag down at the end of her bed. "Just get changed and I'll send for a wheelchair." With that, her doctor was gone. Resting in that weird plastic bag was all of her wears. Her jeans, tank top and even her cellphone. It glistened under the bright hospital lights, almost like a beacon to her as she ripped the bag open. Despite all that has happened, she still turned the screen on, hoping she'd have a missed call from her parents. Though she knew they were dead, part of her wished they'd reach out to her from the other side.
"I'll give you some privacy Sam. Tell me when you're done," Layla said before disappearing behind the curtain. She saw her friend leave out of her peripheral, but never took her eyes off that black screen. She set it aside, took off her hospital gown and just as she was about to slip on her pants, she caught a glimpse of her stomach. It was bulging outward, making her look like she was bloated. She kept running her hands over it, feeling the warm skin underneath. From time to time she pushed to see if there was any give, and there was some. But deep underneath the bit of fat and skin, she felt the slight firmness.
Disgust was all she had deep in the pit of her stomach. The baby in her womb was a bastard seed that embedded itself deep within her. Though she had hatrid for Corey and the pregnancy, she never at all felt angry towards the infant. "It's not your fault baby," She muttered. Her hands rested on her semi bloated belly; she couldn't take her eyes off of it. For the first time ever, her heart actually felt warm. She could just imagine being eight months along and having that little angel kicking under her hands, instead of resting.
A short bit of time passed and her shirt was sliding over her. Were my boobs always this big? Wow. "Yeah, you're looking pretty good there, girl." Klyde's voice broke through the back of her mind. She decided not to engage the two in a conversation, then slid the phone into her left pocket like she always did. "I'm good, Lay," she muttered through a muffled mouth. Her friend entered as she was tying her hair up into a ponytail. "I have the police on the phone," Layla started. Samantha saw it; the screen was illuminated. It felt like another beacon to her; a lifeline she could reach out for in the middle of this ocean of madness she was in.
"Do it." She heard Klyde's voice deep in the back of her mind. Before she knew it, the phone was in her hand and she heard a deep, raspy voice. "H-Hello?" "Is this miss Hive?" The man sounded very old to her. She was running her free hand over her belly as she sat on the edge of her bed. "Yes, this is Samantha Hive. I wanted to verify what my friend Layla stated earlier. I want Corey Smith to be released. I do not want to press charges because I figure it's a turn the other cheek, let Jesus sort him out, kind of thing." There was silence following this statement, and what sounded like the old man sighing.
"If that is what you want miss Hive, then we will release Mr. Smith today. I hope you get well, and if he ever bothers you, be sure to give me a call." Samantha saw the wheelchair entering her area, and the curtains were pulled back. A tall, lanky guy with long brown hair and a beaked nose helped her down into it. "Thank you Chief Bale. I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but I have my reasons, okay?" She watched as the nurse's station went by, and the doorways of the elevator opening.
"That is quite alright miss Hive. I already have my deputy heading outback to get mister smith out. You have yourself a good day ma'am." With that, she hard the other end hang up. The brightness of the outside world hit her like a tsunami wave, blinding her instantly. Her eyes were stinging like hell, and all she heard were the constant apologies from the male nurse who was helping her. "It's fine. It's fine," she kept replying. Her eyes teared up a bit, but they quickly adjusted. The Cortland Regional Medical Center had this semi-big parking lot outside the emergency care center.
She could vaguely make out Layla's truck off in the distance. It gleamed bright red; it was like another beacon. Why do I keep thinking these random ass objects are beacons of hope? She hadn't even realized that Layla was gone, and that the truck was pulling up to the loop around. "It's safe to assume that you're reaching for some sort of sign, honey. You've been through such a traumatizing situation and you want to anchor your mind on something." Dianne's voice was reassuring, but that didn't seem like the right answer.
She heard the door of the truck shut, jarring her back to reality. "How the fuck did I get up in here?" Layla laughed to her left and they were pulling away. As they continued to drive, her friend went off about getting them some real food, and that they'd make a day out of today. Samantha felt relieved that she wouldn't have to go back to that old apartment building/house of hers, at least not for quite a long time. Her brain began to blank out; Klyde's voice kicked in. "I don't think it's so much as looking for an anchor. I think the poor girl's fuckin' delirious."
"Thank you! That makes much more sense," Samantha replied in her head. She felt her lips spreading to a smile, and turned her attention back to that little bulging belly of hers, before letting her mind float completely off.
* * * *
7:30 A.M.
Corey sat in the very back of that holding cell. His ribs were aching and he knew a couple of them were probably broken. His nose was definitely broken and he had dried blood leaking from his mouth. Not only that, but his ass was burning and bruised. It took all of his willpower to not cry, though he felt them stinging. His lips trembled a bit, but he kept his composure. All of the guys that were there before had been released and it was just him in that huge, cold room.
"I'm so sorry, Jesus… And to Samantha… I cannot take back what I did to you and I now know how it feels. I'm so, so sorry." His legs were caressing his face like the hold he used to receive from his mother. The way his ribs ached only gave him flashbacks of when his father was alive. Those nights that he'd sit there, gazing at his television screen. A bottle of beer would be in his hand, and numerous amounts of others lay strewn across the floor. He could still smell that putrid stench of sweat, mixed with the smoke from his cigars.
He wasn't too big of a man, not standing more than five foot, eight. Corey saw his father standing in that doorway leading to the living room, gazing down upon him with anger in his eyes.
The man reminds him of a hawk, with his long nose, small ears and those beady eyes of his. The way his father would look at him before he'd begin to beat him. Some days he'd get lucky and his father would pass out from the alcohol and yet, some days he'd be super unlucky. His father would drink more than just beer, he'd drink whiskey and rum mixed with it. Those nights, Corey knew he'd be going to bed with giant welts all over his back. His father would use his hands, a belt and even an old iron bar that he would heat up.
Corey winced, as he still remembered being touched by that bar for the first, of many times. "You have to know what it feels like!" his father would always shout, as he kept poking and prodding him with that white hot metal. "Feel my pain, son!" Corey saw his father's hand swatting him across the face; he jolted, as he was brought back to the present. Standing before him was that tall, dark skinned man who arrested him. "Jesus!" the loudness of his voice made the officer jump. "Whoa, calm down man. All of those criminal are gone."
Don't trust this guy. He's the one who locked you in this room. It's because of him that you were raped! A voice rang through his head, but not his own. No, it was the low, crackly voice of his father. "But I deserved it father…I'm a fucking rapist!" Corey used all of his remaing strength to silence the violent man's voice, and allowed the officer to help him to his feet. Even standing caused his ass to ache, and he could tell there was blood in his underwear as well. When they began walking, he damn near collapsed, from the pain in his ribs, and the stiffness in his legs.
"Whoa there buddy. Let me help you to the cab, okay?" They had exited the back cell, and were walking down that long hallway, heading to the front entrance. Chief Bale was standing there, with a mouth full of chewing tobacco. He stopped the officer from escorting him out of that precinct. The old man had his nose pressed against his, and he could smell the nasty rotting breath of that man. Instantly, Corey saw the images of his father in his head. After he would be smacked around a bit, the man would spit in his face, and kick him in the stomach.
That was when he felt the warm saliva from the chief hitting his skin. "Chief, was that absolutely necessary?" Officer Alan asked. Corey saw the old man gazing away from him, and wiped the spit from his face into his free arm. That was when he realized that this officer released his handcuffs already. "You could punch the bastard right now! Do it. Do it or else you're a pussy!" Corey fought his father's commands and unclenched his hidden fist. "Take this piece of shit out of here." Chielf Bale immediately pulled out of his view, and he was welcomed with a bright, sunny sky.
A sudden warmth spread throughout him; he was free. He was untied from his proverbial leash and set out into the open vast wilderness. Even though the wilderness wasn't there, and instead of tress there were tall buildings. "I took the liberty of calling your mother…" Officer Alan whispered in his ear. He was flipped around and face to face with the man. Despite the anger in the pit of his stomach, Corey knew he deserved all of what he was given. "I believe you should get jail time, but for what you endured in that room, I'll let this go. Especially since miss Hive gave the go ahead."
Just then, Corey heard his mother calling out his name from behind. There she was, a tall, semi-old woman with a brand new Hybrid convertible. The bright yellow color gleamed nicely in the shining sun. She held out a big bottle of Root Beer and his favorite snack, Zingers. He could just taste the raspberry flavoring in his mouth now, and couldn't help but grin at her. Though, once inside the vehicle, as he was consuming his snacks, he saw that cold stare she was giving him.
They had already pulled out of the parking lot and were passing the old age home. He saw, off in the distance, the spot where he was arrested. His old apartment building could just vaguely be made out, before they turned right. "You know you deserved more time than that Corey." He heard his mother's scolding voice in his left ear, but kept staring out the window. They had passed the old fountain and then by the church, before continuing straight on. She took a left, and then another right, then another left. They were driving by P&C, then Subway and all the other fast food restaurants. "Why are we entering the highway, mom?"
He couldn't help but ask this question, as they pulled into I-81. "I need to get you under the radar for a while. What you've pulled has given me nothing but trouble, Core." His mother stole a glance at him, this time a look of worry rested in her eyes. He just realized that she was wearing a dark blue suit, and a matching skirt. Her hands looked somewhat wrinkly, but those brand new golden bangles shined brighter than the car. "The bitch went and bought herself a set of golden bangles?! What the fuck?!" Corey shook his head, trying to rid himself of his father's angry voice.
"Is everything alright?" They have long but passed Cortland and were heading towards Syracuse. All he could see was long stretches of road, and numerous glistening cars. "Where are we going?" He had to look at that woman now, feeling that infuriating confusion burrowing inside of him. She wouldn't even give him the common courtesy to glance for a split second, not even with her eyes. They had just passed by a sign that said: Syracuse Next Exit. The car took that exit and they were pulling deep into the very heart of that massive city.
"I paid those cops a shitload of money to stay quiet about your release. So far, the public thinks you're serving your time for the rape, and that's how I want it to appear. So, I'm taking you to the family's old cabin. He realized that they were already driving towards the edge of the rural Syracuse and into the more suburban area. "We have an old cabin, out in the woods on a mountainside, that overlooks one of the main highways. I've already stocked the fridge with your favorite food and drinks. The water, electricity, cable and internet are paid in full for the next couple of years. If you need anything, just send my personal driver out, and he'll get it for you, okay?"
They were back on another highway, but this time, Corey could see a vast amount of woods off in the distance. Sure enough, the wilderness rested over a tall hill. "You see that thick amount of trees there? That's where we're going." His mother's voice sounded so enthusiastic. "But you're the one that has to pay the piper, right? While that bitch keeps thriving, her own son is rotting away in the woods." His father refused to get out of his head.
Though he knew it wasn't actually him, Corey couldn't shake the man's voice. They had already pulled off the main highway, alongside a street that passed by an old trailer. The state of which was horrible. It had rust forming all over the side, and the lawn seemed very unkempt. They took a right; he saw an old dirt path leading off the main road just up ahead. Sure enough, they were pulling up a steep hill, and within minutes, the main highway was lost behind the woods. Off in the short distance, he could make out a cabin which looked somewhat run down, but no too bad.
A rough patch of grass surrounded it, giving him a small yard to work with, and a chopping log sat off to the right. "This old cabin is a family heirloom. It belonged to my mother and father and it's the place where I grew up." His mother's encouraging words weren't enough to detour the fact that he'd be in total isolation. And this would go on for the next two years or so, so he'd be very lonely. "Tell the bitch that you won't do this. Tell her that you'll run away!" "Fuck you." He just realized he said this out loud, after seeing that scolding look his mother gave him. He figured it'd be best not to talk anymore, until after she left. So he followed in her wake, up the stairs and through the front door of what would now be his new jail cell.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone