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Jennifer

A Victim of Henry

By Bekah JimenezPublished 3 years ago 8 min read
1

Jennifer hunched over her aching belly on the hard bench at the bus shelter and breathed the cold, damp air carefully against the pain in her ribs, trying to focus on the autumn leaves skittering by her shabby sneakers, but the image soon blurred.

Twin tears dripped onto the pocket of her hoodie, leaving darker spots on the Carolina blue. She felt the warmth of the hot tears on the backs of her hands as they seeped through the fabric. They were soon joined by more and more. Jennifer tried to stem the flow by squeezing her eyes tightly closed until she saw fireworks burst, but they continued to flow in spite of her efforts.

And why shouldn’t they? She was sad – so sad that the tiny word could never contain the depths of her misery. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t even have the energy to draw the deep breath that would require.

Henry had gone. He was the only one who would ever love her; he had told her that often enough that she believed it to the depths of her broken soul. The pain in her shattered spirit dulled the pain in her body.

Again, she wearily traced over the events of yesterday, trying to see what she had done wrong. She harshly judged every word, every tone, every look, every expression she had emitted, yet she still couldn’t find her mistake. Jennifer had carefully schooled herself over the past four years so that she could keep him happy. Things had been so peaceful of late. It had been two weeks since he had hit her last.

But last night!

The second they had walked into their motel room, he had shoved her onto the bed. He half tore her clothes from her body until he had access to what he wanted and hurt her savagely, then he beat her afterwards, leaving cuts and bruises everywhere. The most frightening thing about it all had been his silence; she begged him to tell her why, what sins she had committed, but he said nothing the whole time, until she finally blacked out. When she awoke in the morning, he was gone.

Fortunately, he had dumped her belongings from the car before driving away, so she was able to retrieve them from the parking lot. However, he never allowed her to carry money or have a bank account, so she didn’t have even a penny to her name.

She had had to leave the warm motel room because she couldn’t afford to stay another night. She had pocketed as much as she dared from the complimentary breakfast buffet, not knowing when she might eat again. Then she wandered out into the frosty October morning’s weak sunshine. She was hurt too badly to walk far, so she had settled herself on this bench to rest just a few blocks from the motel.

Jennifer needed someone to tell her what to do or where to go. Henry had done that for the last four years. Everything and everyone else had slowly been shut out of her world until the two of them were all that was left to her. Even her mother and her sister had stopped calling. Henry had made it plain that they were not welcome in their lives. She had no one to help her.

The tears had dried into stiff tracks of salt on her cheeks, the wet whisked away by the wind, but she still sat there. Idly, she wondered how long she would have to sit there before she died and how long it would be before someone noticed that the huddled body next to them was a corpse.

Suddenly, a cry rang out and a body thudded to the ground at her feet. She started violently, cowering away, her blackened, swollen eyes widening in panic. Jennifer was unable to move for a few moments until she realized no harm was coming to her. An elderly man in a nice green trench coat lay before her, his legs sprawled over her suitcase he had tripped over, a broken pot of golden marigolds shattered under his age-spotted hands.

“Are – are you OK?” Jennifer asked him hoarsely, realizing he hadn’t tried to get up.

There was no movement or sound from the figure on the ground. Wincing as she moved, Jennifer reached forward to prod the man’s shoulder, but it elicited no reaction from him. She slowly stood and shuffled to the payphone she had noticed on the corner, then punched in 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” said the voice on the other end.

“Hello. I’m not sure where I am, but this old man fell at the bus stop and now he’s not moving,” Jennifer said. “I hope he’s not dead.”

“OK, I’ll track your location and send an ambulance,” the efficient woman on the other end of the line said. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated a moment before answering. “Jennifer.”

“Last name?”

“No.”

“Ma’am, you’re not in trouble, I just need to put it in the record that you called,” the woman explained a little impatiently.

Jennifer sighed. She was getting tired and dizzy. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. “Norton,” she answered slowly. “My last name is Norton.”

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

Black spots were swimming before her eyes. “Not really.” Her own voice sounded far away. She tried to steady herself on the wall of the phone booth, but she sank to the ground and the world faded away.

When she woke up, there were bright lights and loud noises all around her. People were clamoring, using phrases like “severe concussion,” “deep contusions,” and “rape kit.”

“Jennifer, do you know where you are?” a kind voice asked her.

Jennifer tried to speak, but she couldn’t make her voice work, so she just shook her head.

“You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital,” a red-haired nurse appeared in Jennifer’s field of vision. She was smiling comfortingly, but she looked worried. “It looks like you were beaten pretty severely and possibly raped. We’ll take good care of you, though.”

“Where’s Henry?” Jennifer was able to spit out.

“Henry? Is that the older man you were brought in with?” the nurse asked.

“No. I don’t know who that is. He fell over my suitcase. Henry is my…” Then she remembered. Henry was gone. She started to cry.

The red-haired nurse looked over her shoulder and said, “Henry must be the one who attacked her.”

A man in a rumpled suit with a stain on his tie leaned in next to the nurse. He yelled, “Is that right? Did Henry do this?”

Jennifer flinched at the man’s loud voice, but bravely answered the question. “I – yes, but I probably upset him somehow. He gets upset easily. I know I’m not supposed to upset him.”

The two looked at her with expressions of great pity. Jennifer’s cheeks burned with shame. They could tell what a horrible girlfriend she was. Of course Henry had left her. He always told her that he would if she couldn’t keep him happy.

“Sweetheart, no matter what you did, you couldn’t deserve this,” the nurse said gently. “He nearly killed you.”

The man nodded gruffly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Jennifer just looked away. They didn’t know how wonderful Henry was. They didn’t know how awful she was. They didn’t know anything.

“Is that old man OK?” she said, still not looking at them.

“He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be fine,” the nurse replied. “I think he was more upset about his marigolds than hurt from the fall.”

Jennifer smiled tightly, then closed her eyes. She was so tired.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was in a sunny room with a big window that showcased a stunningly red maple surrounded by naked trees and piles of leaves half covering a few dying shrubs and flowers.

“Jennifer,” a deep voice said behind her.

She turned her head on the pillow and saw a tall, thin man with hands and feet too big for his frame standing in the doorway. He moved into the room awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure how to maneuver himself through the space, and sank into the chair next to her bed.

“I’m Dr. Reece,” he continued in his deep voice. “I have a story to tell you.”

Jennifer stared at him for a few moments. He was a little strange looking, but his blue eyes were kind under his unruly black hair and bushy eyebrows. “Um, OK.”

“In another town, not too far from here, there was a boy. He had been taken away from all his friends and family and driven halfway across the country by someone who was really mean to him. They beat him up no matter what he did, no matter how much he tried to do what they wanted, and eventually left him on the side of the road with nothing.”

“That poor kid!” Jennifer exclaimed. “Is he all right? What happened to him?”

“I’m looking at him,” Dr. Reece answered.

Jennifer took a moment to comprehend what Dr. Reece was trying to say, then she became very upset. “You don’t know anything about me! How dare you judge me!” she shouted.

Dr. Reece pulled a paper from his pocket with his big paw. “Is this you?” he asked, offering her the page.

Jennifer’s hands were shaking with rage as she took the paper from him and unfolded it.

“Missing! $10,000 reward for information on the whereabouts of Jennifer Norton,” the page declared over an old picture of her holding a bouquet of lilacs. She remembered that picture. It was the day she had gone to prom. Before she had met Henry. She was smiling radiantly; her braces had been taken off not two weeks prior.

Jennifer touched her shaking fingers to her lips. She met her own eyes, hollow and troubled, in the mirror across the room. Her face was puffy and discolored from the savage beating she had endured. A couple of the teeth she showed off so proudly in that picture were gone now. When was the last time she had smiled like that? When was the last time she had been happy? Certainly not with Henry.

She looked down at the flyer. Under the photo was a familiar name and phone number.

Slowly, as if she were in a dream, Jennifer reached for the phone next to her bed and took it from the cradle.

“Dial 9 for an outside line,” Dr. Reece prompted her.

A couple of rings later, a warm comforting voice came on the line.

Jennifer drew a deep breath. “Mom?”

fiction
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About the Creator

Bekah Jimenez

I love writing. I've been writing since I learned how. I'm currently working on three novels - two fantasies and a psychological thriller. I can't wait to find a publisher!

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