Selling the Drama (17 page)

Charlotte smiled in agreement and hoisted
the big bag out of the bin, tying it off at the top. Slipping out
the back door, she wound her way up the darkened path towards the
back of the building where the dumpsters were kept. Lugging it over
the edge, she let the lid fall down with a bang, taking a moment to
wipe her hands off onto her dress. Thank goodness it was black and
you could not actually see any of the smears on it. She shuddered
to think what was all over it after tonight. Heading back up the
path, Charlotte breathed in the cool night air, enjoying the feel
of the chilled concrete under her feet. It was monstrously hot
inside the building.

He hit her with a force that left her pinned
against the wall of the building, one of his arms held tight across
her throat, the rest of his body locking her into place roughly.
Her eyes began to water as he applied more pressure against her
throat, her breath now shortening out painfully. Looking right into
her eyes, he smiled, a leer that made her feel physically sick.
Sweat trickled down her body, her stomach lurching with every
difficult breath. Her panic magnified when she saw his other hand
rise, the glint of metal catching her eye. His smile widened, her
fear evident and subsequently pleasing for him to witness.

"I have thought long and hard about what I
was going to do to you. There were so many options. And then it
came to me. The perfect way to get back at you for ruining my
fucking life. The perfect way for you to remember me." His face
loomed closer, his breath washing over her in stale hot waves. She
flinched, unable to pull back from him, the wall directly behind
her head. She wanted to scream out in terror but her voice had left
her, the fear so intense within her, his arm constricting her
throat in a way that made it difficult to even breathe, much less
contemplate making a sound. He pressed his mouth against hers and
bit down on her bottom lip, hard, his teeth breaking the skin, the
taste of her own blood hitting her tongue. She struggled against
him then, unwilling to yield to him, to just allow him to have his
way with her, whatever that way was going to be. But he was
stronger and had her pinned to his advantage, not her own. She
found her voice though as she felt the point of his knife break the
surface of her skin just below her ear. Screaming with terror more
than pain, piercing the night air with its sound, adrenalin
propelling her to kick out at him with renewed vigour. He slashed
at her, tearing her neck open from the base of her ear down to her
collarbone, the pain of it blinding and rendering her mute once
again.

"Not so fucking pretty now. You have ruined
my life you stupid bitch and I am going to cut you to-" Porter
slumped to the ground, releasing Charlotte immediately. She put her
hands up to cover the bleeding cut along her neck, the pain as rich
as the blood that was pouring out. Ellie stood in front of her, a
large rock with jagged edges held up almost delicately in her hand,
her eyes wide with terror.

Without hesitation, Ellie dropped the rock
and launched herself at Charlotte, putting her own hands up over
the wound, her eyes filling with tears, loud screams for help,
somebody to help, emanating from her lips. Charlotte fell against
Ellie, crying uncontrollably, unable to hold herself upright any
longer, terror having turned her legs to liquid. Ellie's hands
stayed firm against her neck all the while, her presence a
reassurance Charlotte absorbed with a neediness that was
visceral.

Footsteps could be heard running up the
path. Ellie turned in that direction, her voice cutting out,
"Somebody call an ambulance! Hurry!"

Charlotte wavered a little, Ellie's face
swimming in and out of focus, her body feeling heavy and light all
at the same time. Another pair of arms caught her around the waist,
scooping her up firmly and while she could no longer see anything
in front of her, she could smell it was Toby, could feel it was him
and it calmed her, the knowledge that he had her. She would be
alright now, as long as he had a hold of her, she would be
alright.

Toby would never say it out loud, but out of
the four of them, Ellie was by far the best one to have done the
deed. She was the only one with no connection whatsoever to the
arsehole, merely a girl who had happened upon him holding her best
friend at knife point, panicking, picking up a rock and braining
him, all thoughts and motivations channelled only towards helping
her friend. That she had actually managed to kill him in place of
only knocking him out, well, that was a stroke of dumb luck like
nothing else. Toby had no fear of Ellie being held accountable; he
had the tape with Porter's threat on it to provide to the police
and had in fact already offered it to one of the officers
questioning Ellie, who was so innocently innocent in her
statements, someone blind and deaf would be able to tell she had
acted entirely without malice.

Charlotte had thirty two stitches in place
from the spot where her ear connected with her jaw running in a
long line down to her collarbone. She had also needed a blood
transfusion and was currently in recovery while Toby sat in the
emergency waiting room, Jake beside him holding fast to Ellie's
hand, who looked so shocked Toby wondered if she might need medical
attention for herself. The police officer who had been questioning
Ellie informed Toby he had reached Iris and Royce at their
accommodations and they were returning first thing in the
morning.

Toby looked up at him. "Thank you. So, what
happens now?" He indicated in Ellie's direction with a sideways nod
of his head.

The officer glanced over at her briefly
before shaking his head. "Nothing. It's pretty clear what happened.
I file my report, and from there an inquest will be held where
Ellie gives her account of the events, and Charlotte too if we
require it; but after that, the case will be closed. End of
story."

Toby nodded. "Okay."

"I will get that tape off you tomorrow. Just
to seal it all up."

"Sure thing." He looked at Jake who was
focused on Ellie with a look of intense relief on his face. The
officer took his leave of them and walked away, a doctor taking his
place in front of them only moments later.

"Come on, your girl's all ready to go." He
motioned for Toby to follow him, winding around a corner to enter a
curtained cubicle. Charlotte was sitting up on an examination
table, still in her beautiful dress, the front of it set hard with
her blood. Her neck had a padded adhesive stuck over the wound
awkwardly. The medical staff hadn't let him stay while they worked
on her, fearing, he expected, the worse on account of the
substantial amount of blood she had lost. It had been the worst
wait of his life to date, and that was saying something, because he
was no novice when it came to waiting on the injured.

Toby rushed to her now, pulling her against
him carefully, his lips falling onto her head as she clung to him.
"Ssh, it's alright. It's all over now." He turned to the doctor.
"Do I just take her home now?"

He nodded. "That you do. I would recommend
she see a trauma counsellor, just to talk through what happened.
She's been through a very frightening experience. She has a
prescription for some pain medication and antibiotics that needs to
be filled on your way out. Other than that, you're good to go." The
doctor swept his arm to the side, his signal to apparently get the
hell out of there.

Toby helped Charlotte off the examination
table and steered her out toward the main area where Jake and Ellie
were still waiting. Ellie started to cry as soon as she laid eyes
on Charlotte. Toby let go of her so she could be embraced by Ellie,
the pair of them clinging to each other with a desperation that
spoke volumes about the current wellbeing of each of them. Toby
nodded to Jake, holding up the prescription.

"I need to get this filled before we
leave."

"I'll get it." Jake took it out of his hands
before Toby could protest, heading to the pharmacy counter.

Toby turned back to face the girls, his
hands falling immediately onto Charlotte's waist. He needed to have
her within his grasp. The closeness of that cut to her jugular. She
could have bled to death. Focusing on the practical aspects of what
needed to be done, in preference to falling apart at the seams and
being unable to do anything on account of being paralysed by the
fear of having nearly lost her, had so far worked for him. But now,
the sight of her, with all that blood, Ellie's hands pressed firmly
to her neck; it returned to him with an intensity that was
blinding. Shit. Here it was. He was going to vomit. Right now.
Taking a step back from Charlotte, he scanned the waiting area,
making a dash for the small metal bin over in the corner, reaching
it just in time. As the sweating and shaking began to set in, he
hurled for an immeasurable time until there was nothing left, just
the heaving motions he was unable to quell. It had been a long time
since he had been hit with an episode such as this, so long, he had
hoped he was over it.

Charlotte appeared beside him with a handful
of tissues and cup full of water. He sank boneless into the seat
nearby, accepting the cup with a shaking hand. Charlotte used the
tissues to blot at his face, mopping up the sweat that was now
drenching him. He looked at her, the injured one, taking care of
him because he was completely unable to hold it together in a
crisis. Fucking hell, what a loser.

Leaning toward him, she pressed her face
against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his body, holding
onto him tightly, a shaking emanating out of her small frame that
fell into time with his own trembling. Closing his eyes, he pressed
his face into her hair, the smell of blood and antiseptic strong in
his nostrils. He could not allow himself to think on the 'what if'
of this situation. He needed to focus on the 'what is'. And he
needed to get himself the fuck under control.

Charlotte stared into the mirror at the long
line running down her neck, shiny and raw, thirty two black
stitches neatly knitting her flesh together, marring it further,
yet necessary for healing. This was the first time she had been
able to have a look at the damage Porter had done to her; it was
glaringly confronting, a slice from one point to another, long and
straight, vicious in both its appearance and his intent. She pulled
her hair forward, arranging it to fall over her shoulder,
effectively covering the mark completely. It was going to drive her
crazy though, having her hair down all around her neck, sticking to
her, heavy like a blanket, all day, every day. But, it was that or
have the horror on display and she wasn't going there. No way.

Porter had known what he was doing alright,
cutting right into her vanity with his knife. She supposed she
ought to be grateful he had started with her neck and not her face.
Yet, vanity was not the only thing fuelling her desire to keep it
covered. She hated the sight of it because it reminded her of him,
of what he had done, of what she had done to motivate him. Just as
he had intended. She wished like nothing else she had not put in
that complaint against him. She wished in all truth she had not
even told Toby about what he had said to her. If she had just kept
her mouth shut, he would still be alive, she would still look
normal, and Ellie would not have years of therapy ahead of her
because she had killed a man with a rock at a disco.

If only she had just kept her mouth
shut.

If only she had just sat in the car instead
of in the stands at football practice.

If only she had just never worn her gym gear
in front of Porter those few times.

If only she had just been born ugly in the
first place.

If only.

Iris looked up from her place at the head of
the table where she was standing dishing up the dinner onto their
plates. "Here she is! Ready for dinner?"

Toby, already seated, watched Charlotte as
she pulled out her chair, slumping into it wordlessly. She would
hardly be down here if she were not ready for dinner, would she?
Toby reached out, his hand lifting the hair she had so carefully
arranged, exposing the very thing she had wanted most to keep
hidden. She pulled back, mortified at his lack of intuition, yet he
would not release her hair, seemed intent rather on inspecting the
damage to her neck, completely oblivious to her distress over his
actions.

"Let go of my hair," she hissed, distraught
at having to point out the obvious to him. He pulled back with
surprise, connecting his gaze with hers, seeing at last how
desperate she was for him to not see the wound, for everyone to not
see; for it to not be the spectacle it was inevitably going to be
for a time. He gently arranged her hair back over it, saying
nothing, his attention turning toward his dinner which had been
placed by Iris down in front of him.

Iris came around the table to put a plate
down in front of Charlotte. She lingered, depositing a kiss onto
the top of her daughter's head. If only she had left it at that,
but no, she then did the very same thing Toby had just done, not
only inspecting the wound, but delicately touching her finger to
the stitches. "Well, at least they did a neat job of the stitches.
That's something, I suppose. It's still going to be a wicked scar
though." Tutting, she dropped Charlotte's hair, not taking the time
to arrange it forwards as Toby had done, moving swiftly back to her
place on the other side of the table.

Charlotte sat frozen, knowing instinctively
that her mother had not intended on being cruel in her perusal, yet
unable to accept her casualty with ease. Toby reached out once
again to tuck her hair forward, tender with his hand, brushing it
against her undamaged skin lightly with a gentleness that proved so
overwhelming Charlotte was immediately undone by the gesture in the
face of her mother's lack of empathy. She reached blindly beneath
the table, seeking him out, grateful when his hand slipped into
hers, pressing it down firmly onto his thigh where it seemed it
would remain for as long as Charlotte wanted it to.