Part 2: All the Pretty Birds

My dad is taking us to the property he wants to build our new house on. It’s out in the country. I hate the country. There are too many bugs, and trees. We are riding in his old beat-up truck that has no shocks, every bump feels so awful. My mother looks so beautiful though, with the wind in her hair from the window. She’s so carefree. I hope to be as happy as she is someday. We arrive at this huge gap in between an endless forest. My dad starts walking around in the grass, explaining where each part of our house is going to be. “This will be the kitchen, this will be the back porch, and this will be the living room”, he says. I don’t see it, but I just nod in agreement. He’s so excited about this build. It’s something he and my mom have been dreaming of for a long time. It will take a year to build the house, and I’ll be seventeen by then. I doubt I’ll even get to live in this dream house. I’ll be off to college by then. My mom and dad are wandering around the property, discussing the flowers they will plant. I am ready to leave. I’m sure Wesley has called the house at least a dozen times by now. He and I are going on a date tonight. I still can’t believe that he likes me. Wesley is the most popular guy in school, and I’m just… well… me. Wesley is the only person that has told me I’m beautiful. I think I’m so weird. I have black hair that I wish I could dye, and these weirdly shaped green eyes. All the girls I see as pretty are blonde. I don’t come close to what they look like. He says I’m beautiful, so I suppose I’ll go with it. I can’t bear the thought of not being with him.
We head back home three hours later, and my mom seems ready for the house to already have been built. She stares out the window on the way back, softly singing along with the radio. My dad is so in love with her. He has trouble keeping himself from getting lost in a trance from her singing. When we arrive back home, there are thirteen messages on the answering machine from Wesley. He seems more and more anxious with every message. He’s honestly worried that I will stand him up for our date. I don’t understand why, but it kind of makes me feel a little less insecure. Wesley arrives at my house at seven sharp. My dad watches him closely as he walks into the foyer to wait for me. When I come down the stairs, I see them both staring at me. My dad looks at me lovingly, while Wesley looks at me in pure awe. I smile, apparently I clean up well.
Wesley takes me to The Golden Lobster, a restaurant just outside of town. We walk in and it’s virtually deserted. There are maybe ten or so tables, and only two other customers in the entire place. I suddenly get an uneasy feeling, but suppress it just as quickly. Wesley Gardner is here with ME. That is all that matters right now. Our waiter comes to the table, his name is David, and he seems incredibly nervous. I notice his nervousness increases each time he looks at Wesley. I wonder why. Does he know Wesley? David takes our order and walks away, and we are left alone. It is so quiet in this place. Normally restaurants have music playing in the background, at least all the one’s I’ve been to. But in this restaurant, you could hear a pin drop.
I try to think of something clever to say, but before the words can escape my mouth, Wesley starts to speak. “So Andrea, why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?” I’m stunned for a second. I was certain that I had told him my family and I were going to look at the property for our house, but he seems sincerely clueless. “My dad took us to our new property today. I wasn’t home”, I say. He looks at me puzzled and somewhat disbelieving, “Oh”. I am immediately uncomfortable. It makes no sense. Does he really not remember me telling him about my plans? David returns to our table with our entrees and leaves the table as soon as he sets our plates. What is with him? Wesley isn’t that intimidating. Both of us eat our food in silence, and my discomfort becomes stronger. There is something that isn’t quite right, but I can’t figure out why.
Wesley pays the check, and we leave the restaurant. On the ride home, he pulls over onto a gravel road that I don’t recognize. I ask, “Where are we going?” He ignores my inquiry, which makes me a little frightened. As we ride further and further into the darkness, I become more anxious. Wesley begins to drive a little faster, as if he’s feeding off of my anxiousness. “Wesley, where are you taking me? I need to be home before eleven”, I say. Again, he ignores me. This is getting to be very strange. I am unsure as to what I should do. Finally, we arrive at a camper, deep into the woods. It’s dark all around, except for one dusk-to-dawn light next to the tiny camper. I ask, “What is this place?” He looks at me and says, “Do you ever shut up?” Stunned by his rudeness, I immediately look down at my shaking hands in my lap. He reaches over and grabs my hands, “Stop shaking. I hate fidgeting.” I use all my strength to stop my hands, but it’s not working as well as I would like. I look up at him and I notice something in his eyes that causes me to shake even more violently. I’ve never seen an expression like that before; he looks carnivorous in a way. I don’t understand it. Wesley gets out of the truck and comes around to open my door. He tells me to get out, and I clumsily fall out of the passenger’s side. I’m looking down at the ground, afraid of what I will see if I look up, and he grabs my chin to pull my face towards him. That look he’s giving me right now, I wish I could decipher what it means. I am usually better at reading people’s emotions, it’s one of my strong suits, but this is something I’ve never seen before. Is it anger, frustration, hatred…? I have no idea. Wesley grabs my hand and leads me over to the door of the camper. My pager begins to ring, and he pulls it from the outside pocket of my purse and throws it into the woods. I’m shocked, “What are you doing?! That was my dad! I was supposed to be home an hour ago.” He ignores me and continues pulling me into the camper. I fight him, pulling my hand back. I need to find my pager. My dad’s going to kill me if I don’t call him back. Wesley pulls harder on my arm, almost dragging me up the tiny steps. When I’m inside the door, he quickly throws me to the floor and pulls the door shut. My arm is hurting. He looks down at me, and as I start to get up from the floor, he slaps me across the face. “Ow!” I scream. Wesley ignores me and walks over into the tiny kitchen. I begin to cry, “What are we doing here? I need to get home. Please.” He comes over to me and holds out his hand for me to place my hands inside. I reluctantly do so, and he begins to tie a shoelace around my wrists. I begin crying harder. What is he doing? What is he going to do? I just want to go home. After securing my hands, he slaps me again, “Stop crying. I hate that bullshit.” The pain radiates through my face, but I can’t stop the tears. He slaps me again. More pain, it’s spreading all the way through my body. I finally find the strength to stop the tears. He leans over and lifts me from the floor. He carries me into a little bedroom at the back of the camper. It smells like urine, and the smell makes me start to gag. He throws me onto the bed in the room and the smell becomes stronger. I start gagging, and he slaps me again. “Stop slapping me. That hurts!” I exclaim. He looks at me, “Good”. He grabs my tied hands and pulls the shoelace around a post at the top of the headboard. I start kicking. I know what is about to happen. Why didn’t I see this before? I should’ve seen this coming. Oh God. He grabs my kicking feet and ties each of them, and attaches them to a post on either side of the bed. I begin to cry again, “Please, Wesley. Don’t do this. I beg of you”. He looks at me with a satisfactory grin, and my blood turns cold. “I like you this way, Andrea. You’re almost perfect”, he says. He walks away from the bed, and then returns with a plastic grocery bag. He balls up the bag and stuffs it in my mouth, so I can no longer speak or scream, and barely breathe. “Now, that’s just right”, he says. The tears begin to pour down my face. Why me? I don’t understand. His phone begins to ring.
I am lying on the bed, bound and gagged for what seems like hours. Wesley has been outside on the phone, and has just left me here. My parents are probably so worried. I wonder if they have called the police. Will they find me here? Will they find me before he carries out whatever sinister plan he has in his mind? Wesley walks back into the room, “Ah. Nice to see you haven’t ran away”. He laughs, “Oh, right. You can’t run away”. He comes over to me and puts his face above my face. His breath smells of the shrimp he ate for dinner, and I don’t know which is worse, the urine or his breath. He begins to whisper, “My, my, Andrea. You are so beautiful. I love your hair. It reminds me of the night. Ah… the night”. He continues to breathe into my face as his hands begin their way down my waist. I start to clinch my abdomen, anticipating his movements. He begins to run his fingers along the top of my jeans, and I begin to shake. “Hmm, these are bothersome”, he says. He swiftly hops up and goes to untie my feet one at a time, in order to remove my jeans. I am shaking uncontrollably. He removes one leg, and immediately secures my foot, and then he does the same to the other leg and foot. When he’s finished, I am completely naked from the waist down. It’s so cold in here, and I can feel the disgustingness of the mattress beneath me as it absorbs into my skin. He starts to make little breaths along my skin as he works his way up my left leg, as if he’s enjoying this in some way. All I can feel is fear and disgust. Why did I want to date him? I am not popular. No one even knows my name. I should’ve known there was something wrong with his attention that came out of nowhere. I am so stupid. He continues up in between my thighs, “Mm you smell so sweet”. I shudder with anxiety. I wish he would stop. The tears begin to pour again. He lifts up from my body and I can see him remove his pants and boxers on the side of the bed. I start trying to clinch my thighs together, but it’s impossible. He climbs atop me and stares. I can see that strange carnivorous look in his eyes again. He leans over and puts his mouth to my throat as he forces himself into me. “Ahhh…!” I screech. He ignores my cries and continues, over and over, each thrust hurting more than the last. I cannot stop the tears. This hurts so much. Why is he doing this? What did I do? What’s wrong with me? I would’ve slept with him if he’d asked. He didn’t have to do this to me. I begin to drift off into a dream. My mind and body are unable to comprehend what is happening right now. I’m on our new property, swinging on the swing-set in the back yard. I can see my beautiful mother drinking iced tea on the screened-in porch. She’s smiling. I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is and how much I love her. The pain stops and I am taken from my reverie. Wesley lifts from my body, and I realize where I am and what has happened. I can see his face, he’s smiling. Why is he smiling? Did hurting me so badly really make him happy? I don’t understand.
I am lost in the endlessness of the street lamps as Wesley drives me home. I jump out of his truck as quickly as possible and he pulls away. I stand at the end of our sidewalk, afraid to go inside, yet longing to feel the warmth and safety of my bed. But how can I go inside? I’m so ashamed. How could I let this happen to me? My parents will be so ashamed of me. I know that they will. I begin to slowly walk towards the house, and before I reach the steps, my mother comes running out of the door. “Andrea, where have you been?! We’ve been so worried. You should’ve been home hours ago!” I collapse at the end of the steps. I cannot move. My entire body is in excruciating pain. I can’t bear to tell her what happened. Please, let me die God. Please, just let me die now.
I awake and I am in my bed. I don’t recall how I got here, and it matters little. I am relieved to be here. My mother comes into my room. “Sweetie, you shouldn’t drink so much. You shouldn’t drink at all, but I know how kids your age like to experiment. I hope that this was a lesson to you”. I am suddenly confused. Was I drunk? I know that I wasn’t. I remember what happened. I’ll never forget, but for some reason it’s much easier to let her believe I was drunk. I reach out to her, “I know, mom. I’m sorry. I’ll never drink again.” She grabs my hand and smiles at me. “It’s alright, love. It happens to everyone”, she says. I want to grab her closer to me. I need her to hold me, but I stop myself. She will know something is wrong if I do that. She walks away towards the door, “Breakfast is on the table downstairs. Food is usually good for a hangover”. I turn my head as she walks out of my room. I can’t eat. I’m disgusted with myself. Food will not make me feel better. There is nothing that will make me feel better.
It’s Monday morning, and I have to go to school. I don’t want to. HE will be there, waiting for me, smiling that carnivorous, satisfied smile. I go out and wait for the bus, as I get onto the bus, I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. Do they know? Did Wesley tell everyone that I am his latest conquest? As we pull up in front of the school, my anxiety becomes unbearable. I walk off the bus and walk as fast as I can to the girls’ bathroom. I’ll be safe in there. No one can see me. I go inside the bathroom and hide in the last stall all the way against the back wall. I can’t bear to go to class. What if he’s there? What if he’s waiting for me? I sit there for a few hours, in constant worry of what awaits me outside. “Andrea, is that you?” I hear a voice say. It’s Carly, my best friend. Oh, thank God. “Yea, it’s me Car”, I say. She comes over, and I reach up to unlock the stall. “Are you okay? Period cramps?” she asks. “No, I’m just not feeling very well today”, I say. “Well, why don’t you go home? You want me to give you a ride?” she asks. “Yes, that would be great”, I say. She helps me off of the floor, and we head out of the building and into the parking lot. She drives a little yellow beetle. It’s so small and cute, and so Carly. We get inside the car and she starts to drive back to my house. When we pull into the driveway, my anxiety subsides. I get out of the car and thank her for the ride. I go quickly into my house and up to my room. I climb into bed, and drift off to sleep. I want to forget. I need to forget.
I can see a bird on a branch outside the window. The nurse is coming over to me, and I really wish she wouldn’t. “Andrea, you need to take your medicine”, the nurse says. I turn to her, grab the little paper cup, throw the pills down my throat and swallow them dry. She smiles and walks away. I am eighteen now. I don’t remember turning eighteen, but the counselor told me yesterday that that is how old I am, so I suppose he knows better than I do. I continue watching the bird out the window. It looks so peaceful. I want to be peaceful. “Andrea, Andrea! D...do you wanna play checkers?” a voice says. It’s Tommy, the most annoying person I’ve ever met. “Andrea…. Come on…. Please play checkers with me”, Tommy pleads. I ignore him, continuing to stare at the little blue bird. “Leave her alone, Tommy”, the nurse says. Tommy looks disappointed and walks away. I don’t want to play checkers. I don’t want to move. Pretty little bird, how peaceful you are. The sun is starting to go down, and I am sleepy. I wander off down the hall to my room. My roommate, Sarah, is gone. I wish she was still here. She was nice, but all that’s left is her smell. She’s gone off to some foreign land. I hope she’s happy there. I really really hope she’s happy. I wish I were strong enough, I would join her there. It’s too quiet to sleep, but I am falling to sleep anyway.
“It’s time to get up! Everybody Up!” I can hear a voice shouting from the hall. I open my eyes. The sun is out, it must be breakfast time. I don’t remember falling asleep last night. I look over at the empty bed next to me. Sarah, I miss you. I get up and make my way out of my room. Everyone is lining up down the hallway towards the cafeteria. I wonder what we’re having for breakfast this morning. I’m sure it’s eggs and sausage. It’s always eggs and sausage. I wish they would make French toast. I miss French toast and syrup. “Andrea, come sit with me. Please, Andrea. Please”, Tommy says. I think he likes me, but I’m not interested. I ignore his request and sit at the far end of the cafeteria. Breakfast is the usual, a mixture of runny eggs and cheap breakfast sausage. I eat it anyway. The nurses will hassle me if I don’t. I finish and bring my tray over to the sink area. The cleaning ladies always smile at me. I don’t know why. I ignore them and walk over to the door of the patio. I like it outside. I feel free outside. I go and sit at a bench under a big oak tree. No one else sits here, and no one bothers me. I can sit and watch the birds in peace. “Andrea, you have a visitor”, the nurse says. A visitor? Who is visiting me? Why? I get up from my spot and walk back inside. She leads me to one of the visitor rooms next to the counseling area, and I walk inside the room. Carly is sitting in a metal blue chair on the far side of the table. She makes a strained smile at me, even though she looks as if she wants to cry. “Hi. How are you?”, she says. I look at her indifferent, “Okay, I guess.” She looks down at her feet, “Everyone has been asking about you. They all really miss you.” Yeah, sure they do, I think. That’s why they’ve all been breaking down the door to see me. “Oh, really? Well, tell them I miss them too”, I say. She looks up at me and makes a half smile. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want her to hurt, but I can’t stop my own pain, much less hers or anyone else’s. She’s lying. No one misses me. They feel sorry for me. Poor Andrea, right? Pssh! I just stare at her. “When do you think you’ll get to come back?” she asks. I continue to stare at her. As if it’s my choice, umm… not so much. I say nothing, and she starts to get anxious. “I really miss you, A”, she says. I still say nothing. I get up from my chair, avoiding her eyes and walk over to the door. The nurse comes over to let me out of the room and I go back out to the patio to watch the birds. Her visit is the first I have had in a year, I think. I’m not sure. My parents stopped coming after I was here for two weeks, and well… there’s no one else. They all miss me? What a laugh. I can hear the nurse announcing lunch, so I get up and make my way back to the cafeteria.
I hate counseling. I don’t want to talk, especially not in a circle with all of these other people. I’m not crazy like they are. I’m broken. Somebody broke me, and I can’t be put back together. That’s all, it’s not rocket science. Why won’t they just leave me alone, and let me watch the birds? I just want to watch the birds. There is a woman who is talking about selling herself for crack, and how she did that because her daddy beat her. She always talks, and it’s always the same story, over and over. When she stops, the nurse asks if anyone else has something to share, and the next usual talker begins. He’s a skinny little kid, named David. I think he’s maybe twelve or thirteen. He tells how his parents divorced and he became a different person. His parents sent him here, because he attacked his dad, even though he doesn’t remember the incident. He seems lost, angry… very angry. I wonder what the rest of his story is, but he never delves any further. Finally, counseling time is over and it’s time for dinner. It’s spaghetti night, which I’m thankful for. Spaghetti is the best meal they serve here, and it reminds me of home. I miss home, but I can’t go back. It’s not home anymore. I am not me anymore, much less the girl who deserved that home. After dinner, we go into the common room to watch television. I don’t like to watch television, so I sit in the chair in the far end of the room and stare out at the stars. I look up at the clock, it’s nine o’clock. Good, time for bed. The nurse comes in and announces five minutes to lights out, and everyone files out into the hallway and into their rooms. I lie down in my bed and look over to Sarah’s bed. I miss her. She was nice. I wish I could be where she is, and I drift off to sleep.
Today is my nineteenth birthday. I am sitting in my usual spot, eating my runny eggs and sausage. No one bothers me anymore, not even Tommy. He’s found another girl to annoy. After breakfast, I go out to my bench to watch the birds. I look away from the tree and I see someone standing in the distance. Someone I recognize, but don’t remember. I hear the nurse, “Andrea, you have a visitor”. I look over at her and reluctantly leave my spot. She leads me into one of the visitor rooms, and as I walk into the door, my blood turns cold. It’s him. Why is he here? I start to turn back towards the door. I don’t want to see him. Why is he here? “Andrea, wait. Please. I want to talk to you”, he says. Feeling unusually brave, I turn to him, “Why? What could you possibly have to say to me?” He looks down in shame, which catches me by surprise. I walk over to the table, refusing to sit in the chair. “Look, I’m so sorry. I was messed up. I will never forgive myself for hurting you. Please, forgive me. I am getting help. I was so messed up. I’m so sorry”, he says. I look at him in disbelief. Huh? He’s sorry? He’s messed up? Are you kidding me? I become angry, “How dare you? I can’t believe you. You honestly believe that apologizing will make this better? What the hell?” He looks up at me and I notice his eyes beginning to tear. “Andrea, please. I’m so sorry. That was who I used to be. I would take it back if I could. Please. I’m so sorry.” I feel like vomiting in his face. I cannot believe that this is happening. Am I having a delusion? This can’t be real. It just can’t be. “Please. I have a family now and a baby on the way. Please forgive me, Andrea. I don’t feel like I can get on with my life until you forgive me for what I’ve done to you”. I am stunned. This man, who was once the teenage boy that raped me, is here begging me for MY forgiveness. I begin to cry. He destroyed me. What he did to me destroyed me. And now, he has a family? He’s been free and happy. In the outside world, making a family? While I have been locked inside here? “I can’t forgive you”, I say. His face turns red, “I wish that you could. I can’t forgive myself”. I look at him with pure hatred, “You destroyed my life. You destroyed me. I am no longer and will never again be the person that I once was… because of you. And you have the audacity to come in here and ask ME to forgive you?” I move away from the table and towards the door. “I am so sorry, Andrea”, I hear him say. The nurse comes to let me out and I walk to have lunch in the cafeteria.
I am counting the electric poles from the car window. I can hear my dad singing along with ZZ-Top on the radio. “Sharp Dressed Man”, is the name of the song, I think. He’s taking me home. I had hoped that he and my mother would’ve moved into their dream house, but they had to sell the house and property to pay my hospital bills. We arrive in the driveway of our same old house. I am scared to go inside, scared to face the memories. My dad comes around and opens my door. I get out and before I take two steps, my mother has her arms wrapped around me. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much”, she says. I don’t have the energy to hug her back, and she lingers, holding me for what seems like forever. She finally lets me go and begins to lead me into the house. When we get inside, she leads me to the kitchen to show me what her and my dad has done for me, to help me start over. She has a packet on the counter laid out for me. The packet has a key to an apartment, a key to a car, and the information for a job as a mail-clerk at a local newspaper. My mother cannot hold back her excitement, “So, what do you think?” I look up and force a smile, “It’s great, mom… dad. Thank you.” My dad smiles and walks out of the room, leaving my mother and me alone. My mother comes over and grabs my hand. She leads me out into the garage to show me my new car. It is an older model, dark blue Subaru sedan. I smile at my mother. She blurts out, “Well, get in. Start her up.” So I do as she says and make my way around to the driver’s side and climb in. I put the key in the ignition and start the car. It starts with no problem and my mother says, “Yay!” As if she’s surprised, even though I know they wouldn’t have bought a car that didn’t start. I smile at her again, and she suggests that I drive it to my new apartment as she climbs into the passenger’s side. We go three miles down the road to a small apartment complex. I pull into the parking lot and we get out of the car. “It’s over here”, she says. I follow her as she walks down a little corridor to apartment 112. I take my key and open the door. When we walk in, it smells of mothballs. The walls are an eggshell color and the carpet is eggshell as well, with what looks like urine stains. There is an eat-in kitchen and no dishwasher. The bedroom and bathroom are down a tiny hall to the left of the living room. There is only a shower in the bathroom, but I don’t mind. I never take baths anyway; they make no sense to me. My mother is smiling and giddy, “Andrea isn’t this perfect for you?” I look at her and nod in agreement. We leave the apartment and head back home to pack up my things.
It’s my first night alone in my new apartment, and it’s surprisingly quiet. I like the quiet. I lie down in my new bed with my freshly cleaned sheets, and close my eyes to sleep. I hear a beeping noise. I sit up. What is that? I realize it’s a notification on my new cell phone that my parents gave me. I get up and go into the kitchen to see why my phone is beeping. There is a message on the screen. “Do you know what happened to you dad’s house?” sent by Unknown Number. I am suddenly confused. My dad’s house? My dad lives in his house. What are they talking about? I pick up the phone and hit reply, “Umm, no I don’t. What are you talking about? Who is this?” A few minutes go by; the phone beeps again, “The house your dad built. Have you heard from Carly lately? There have been a lot more than you.” I stare at the message. Carly? No, actually I haven’t heard from or about her in a long time. I am immediately intrigued, “What about Carly?” The phone is silent for at least thirty minutes before I give up and go back to bed. Maybe it was a prank. What does Carly have to do with anything? The house my dad built?
The next morning, I wake up to find five new messages on my phone. “Carly is missing and he knows where she is. So does his wife.” The second, “He bought the house your dad built. He lives there with his family.” The third, “There are a lot more. He is still raping women.” The fourth, “You have to do something. Find Carly.” The fifth, “You are the only one who can do something.” I stare at the phone. What? Carly is missing? Why didn’t my mom tell me that? He… Wesley bought my dad’s house? He’s still raping women? I’m mortified. I feel paralyzed. I grab my keys and go out and get in my car. I drive to the local police station and walk inside. There is large woman sitting at the front desk. She has very defined frown lines, as if she has been miserable for the better part of her life. I look at her and smile, “Um, hi, I would like to check on a missing person report.” She looks at me puzzled, “What’s the name?” A lump comes up in my throat; it’s so hard to say her name. “Carly McKinley”, I say. She opens her log book and flips through the pages. “Yes, her status is still missing”, she says. “How long has she been missing?”, I ask. She flips through a few more pages, “It’s been thirteen days since she was reported missing. Do you wish to make a statement?” I look at her and shake my head no. She says, “Okay. Well, that’s the only information I can give to you. Did you know her?” I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes, “Yes. She’s my best-friend.” The lady looks down, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Hopefully they’ll find her.” I force a smile and walk out. Where could she be?
I am sitting in the park and watching the birds, thinking about what I should do. What can I do? How can I find Carly? How can I stop Wesley? I’m the crazy girl. Who would believe me? I start to think about the other part of the message, “He bought your dad’s house”. I decide to drive out to the property. I think I remember how to get there. I would like to see what my dad built, even if nothing else comes out of the trip. I arrive at the limestone driveway and begin driving towards the house. As I get closer to the end, I see this monstrosity, turquoise blue and shiny metallic. I pull up in front of the house. It’s amazing. I can’t believe my dad designed this. I get out of my car and start to walk up to the porch. I can hear a woman laughing as I walk up to the front door. I reach the bright red door, and firmly knock. I can hear footsteps getting closer, until finally a woman opens the door. Wow. She has the most beautiful eyes and she’s pregnant. I’m stunned and suddenly forget what I wanted to ask. “Can I help you?” she asks. “Uh, yes. I am Andrea. My… uh... Dad built this house” I say. She smiles, “Oh, of course.” She turns and yells, “Honey, Jack’s daughter is here to see the house. Come and meet her.” I hear footsteps coming towards us and when I look up, I am immediately paralyzed. It’s him, Wesley. He bought my father’s house. He comes over to me and reaches out his hand, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. What is your name?” I try to hide my amazement. Seriously? What is my name? “I...I... I’m Andrea.”, I stutter. “Oh, it’s very nice to meet you. I am Susannah, and this is my husband, Wesley.” I start to shake, and turn around to leave. I say nothing more, even though I can hear Susannah calling for me, asking me not to leave. I can’t bear to stay here any longer. I get into my car and drive back to my apartment. As soon as I get in the door, I lock it behind me and head straight to my bedroom to lie down. I can’t believe what just happened. He’s there, in MY father’s house, with a beautiful pregnant wife. He destroyed me and I stayed locked away in that hell-hole because of what he did to me, and he’s happy… with her… What the hell? I close my eyes. I just want to sleep. I need to sleep. This was just a bad dream. I hear a beep. I open my eyes, it’s still dark. What time is it? Three in the morning? I look over on my nightstand, my phone is lit up. I pick it up, there’s a message, “They found Carly. He murdered her. You have to do something.” I sit up. What? They found Carly… murdered? I dial my mom’s number, it rings five times, she answers, “Andrea, what is it sweetheart? Are you okay?” I can’t bear to say it, “Mom, they found Carly.” I begin to sob. “What, dear? What happened to Carly?” she asks. The tears start pouring, “She was murdered.” “What?!” she exclaims. I hang up the phone. What is happening? I don’t understand this. He has to be stopped. I have to do something.
I am staring out the window at the birds. They look so peaceful. I wish I could be a bird. I have come back to this place, which is oh so familiar. The memories of that night are a blur, and I am becoming convinced that I should’ve never left here. He was a monster. I destroyed the monster. He killed Carly. I had to do something. The judge says I will be paroled in a year. I don’t know if I should be. I am obviously never going to be okay. I hate her, his wife. She knew. She had to have known what he was doing. He raped and murdered so many women, and she let him. She should be stopped. Someone has to stop her.